Page 192 of Playing the Pucking Game
My suitcase lies half-packed on the floor. It’s pretty much how life is now. I just need to fill it with clean underwear and clothes, and it’ll be ready to go again.
I make quick work of stripping out of my dress, take my makeup off, twist my hair up into a bun, and walk back to my bedroom to find some pajamas. But the second I pull the drawer open, I pause.
The new items I’ve bought are all perfect. Some comfy, some sexy. But none of them are what I want.
I glance at the door, wondering if I can chance it.
“Fuck it,” I mutter before walking out of my bedroom wearing only my bra and panties.
The second I step into Linc’s room, I question myself. But it’s too late now; I’m here. And if he catches me, well…I’ll just have to deal with the consequences.
I march toward his drawers and pull one open before rummaging for something that catches my attention.
“Bingo,” I hiss when my fingers find one of his old college shirts.
I gather the fabric to my chest before I close the drawer and slip back out.
After removing my bra, I pull the old, soft fabric over my head.
Perfect.
As I walk toward my bed, I lift the neck so it covers the bottom of my face and breathe it in. His scent floods my nose, and instantly, I’m back in his arms again.
Ignoring the jobs that are calling my name, I crawl into my bed. That also smells like him.
I have a problem.
I lie there for a long time with a million and one thoughts running around my head. But eventually, I’m distracted by the sound of someone entering the apartment.
My heart rate picks up, and I begin to question my decision to steal a shirt from his room. What if he notices? What if he comes in here and sees me?
But despite those concerns, at no point do I roll out of bed and take it off.
I can’t.
He crashes about in the kitchen for a bit before his footsteps get louder as he walks into his bathroom.
He turns the shower on, and my mind runs away with me as I think about him stepping under the water. I bet he looks insane with rivulets of water cascading along the sculpted lines of his abdomen.
My temperature rises right along with my heart rate. I rub my thighs together, but it does little to quell the desire that’s getting more and more insistent between my thighs.
It’s been a few days since I pulled out my vibrator. Maybe that’s why I’m so tense. I just need a private moment to let go.
I’m about to reach into my top drawer when the water cuts off.
It shouldn’t stop me—it doesn’t matter that he’s no longer in the shower—I’ve still got a very vivid imagination, but for some reason, I don’t move. Instead, I continue lying there with my clit pulsating, torturing myself with what could be.
Linc continues moving around as I picture him in those tight boxer briefs he likes to wear that leave very little to the imagination. I bite down on my lip as I try to picture how they might look when he’s hard. There’s no way they’d contain him. Linc is packing; I already know that.
After a few minutes, everything goes silent, and I assume he’s crawled into bed.
My heart continues to race, my body begging for relief. But I already know that whatever I give myself is going to be unsatisfying.
I need more.
I need?—
I sit upright as my door opens, the bottom brushing against the thick carpet. My room is in darkness, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see his shadowed figure moving at the end of my bed.
