Page 49 of Bad Habit
Mac
My cock was so hard my robe felt like sandpaper as I walked out the bedroom door.
I wanted Faith more than I’d wanted any woman.
Was it the chase? The forbidden fruit? The fact that I’d never gone so long wanting a woman before having sex?
Or was it more? I’d never met anyone quite like Faith, and even with her lack of experience, I felt challenged by her, challenged to question my choices, challenged to be better.
If it was only about the chase, then fucking her would be the cure. That’s how it typically went for me. Attraction, then infatuation, then hope, followed quickly by boredom. I wasn’t proud of this pattern, but it was the truth.
And usually the girl I was wanted wasn’t a nun. I’d done a lot in my life I wasn’t proud of, but I suspected these few days and nights would give me enough guilt to last for the rest of my life.
Screw the guilt.
I’d already made my reservation in Hell.
I dimmed the lights and cast off the robe. I wanted Faith to feel safe. I wanted to let her see me, maybe touch me—on her terms, with her in control.
Crossing to the window at the end of the dining area, I leaned my hands against the glass, which was still warm from the recently set sun. Widening my stance, I assumed a position like I was ready to be frisked, then I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And through it all, the temptation to deal with my raging erection was overpowering, and the more I thought of touching myself, the worse my discomfort.
Could I finish before she came through that door? Was she even coming? For all I knew, she’d returned to the bathtub or decided to go to sleep for the night.
About to give up, I pushed back from the glass, but then I heard the click of the bedroom door. I resumed my previous position.
She gasped, and I resisted the urge to turn.
“I want you to see me,” I said. “You’ve never seen a naked man before, right?”
“Just statues. Paintings.” Her voice was soft and breathy. “And only a few of those.”
“I’m not going to touch you,” I said. “I won’t even move, unless you ask me to. My hands and feet will stay still. I promise.” Keeping anything else still was a promise I knew I couldn’t keep.
Her reflection appeared in the glass, her eyes focused on my body. One of her hands skimmed the backs of the dining room chairs as she slowly moved past them toward me.
“Can I…” She paused so long, I wasn’t sure she’d finish her question.
“Ask me anything.” I closed my eyes.
“Can I touch you?” Her words came out quickly. “No. That’s not right. No…”
“I’m all yours, Faith. Touch me. Do whatever you want.”
I heard a quick inhale.
My dick heard it, too, and bounced in response.
Her hand landed soft on my back, and I hissed in a breath through my teeth.
Her hand flew off me.
“Don’t stop, Faith. Your hand felt good.”
