Page 34 of For a Goode Time Call…
Wrap her hand around me. Small, soft, quick hand. Sliding up and down, in no hurry.
I clenched my teeth, pretending my hand is hers.
Fuck.
I let my imagination take over and pictured her pressing her body against me, touching me, touching me in a way I hadn’t been touched in a very long time.
You’d think after so long it would be quick, but it wasn’t. Now that I’d allowed myself to think about Cassie like that, I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.
I realized, belatedly, that I hadn’t thought about where the mess was going to go. It’s not like I kept Kleenex next to the couch.
I stumbled awkwardly into the bathroom, leaned back against the door, snagging a handful of toilet paper off the roll. Killing the mood, sort of, but I was out of practice doing this, and I felt dirty enough as it was, like I was taking advantage of her somehow, like I was using her or insulting her.
But I couldn’t stop, not now.
I felt myself shake, curling forward, reached my release and groaned through it, pouring into the wadded toilet paper.
Finished, I groaned, feeling dirty. Feeling…ashamed.
Which was also not healthy, I knew. But I’d used the mental image of a friend to jack off. Classy shit, right there.
I threw the mess in the toilet, flushed it, washed my hands.
Left the bathroom…
And found Cassie on my couch, the drawing pad in her hands, looking at the drawing I’d done of her.
I stopped dead in my tracks. “Um. Hey.”
She looked up at me, and I couldn’t read her expression. Was she mad? Disgusted? Curious?
I just couldn’t tell.
“I, um.” She set the pad on her knees. “I probably should’ve knocked.”
I laughed. “I mean, it is kinda customary.”
“What I mean to say is, I did knock. You didn’t answer. I thought you were at the shop. I went around the back way instead of through the front door, in case you were doing a tattoo. I didn’t want to disturb you. I…” She glanced at me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d sayshewas nervous. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”
Yeah. Thirty seconds earlier, you’d’ve seen something you probably wouldn’t be able to unsee.
“I—” I glanced at the drawing pad still balanced on her knees. “About that…”
Her eyes went to mine. Fixed on mine for a moment, then slowly slid down. Over my bare torso, which was probably still a little swollen from my futile efforts to alleviate the tension. Down further, to my shorts.
Which, I realized, were still slightly tented from my not quite fully subsided…issue.
She set it aside. “About what?”
“The, um. The drawing.” I wanted to adjust, but didn’t dare draw any more attention to it. “Of you.”
Her eyes went back up to mine. “It’s amazing.”
I blinked. “I…” I swallowed, shuffled. “You…what?”
She touched the paper, delicately tracing a fingertip over the lines. “It’s an incredible drawing.”
I was not expecting that. “I…”
