Page 33 of Yearn
The Fever in My Cock
Dominic
When I returned to my basement apartment, I didn’t finish jacking off, but I did take a shower.
Cold water hammered my shoulders.
I tipped my head against the tile.
Mist ghosted around me even though I’d cranked the handle to blue. I needed the heat knocked out of my body, needed to rinse off the ache that had pressed me to the glass while Teyonah had cleaned up in the kitchen.
The ache that had me jacking off and her catching me.
What is wrong with me?
I thought about taking my cock in my hand again and quieting the pulse in my veins. But that felt like feeding the animal I’d been trying to cage.
Still, when I looked down at my cock, I couldn’t ignore it.
There it was—thick, long, flushed, and wet, curved hard against my abs, pulsing. It looked heavy and obscene.
The shaft was pale, streaked with heat-flush, veins snaking in swollen ridges as the spray slicked over my skin.
The head was brutally swollen, a deep pink that glistened, dripping a slow, shameless line of clear pre-cum that clung and dragged down the length before sliding off.
I have to figure out a solution. I have to fuck her. . .
I let out a breath through my teeth.
My cock twitched.
I thought about med school—about all the women who had circled me like hawks the second they realized I was six-four, built like I lived in the gym, and came from money.
Interns who pressed too close in the lab.
Residents whoaccidentallybrushed their hands over my arm while asking for help with notes.
Girls who always murmured to me in the library that I should take a break and let them "relieve my stress."
They would’ve killed to be in this shower right now—on their knees in this steam, lips stretched around my cock, swallowing every drop of pre-cum the water didn’t wash away.
They would’ve moaned just from the thickness hitting the back of their throat, proud to choke on my length, begging for more.
But none of them were Teyonah.
None of them had her laugh that cracked me open, her curves that made me ache, her strength that made me want to worship her.
None of them could make my cock this hard without even touching me.
And that was the sickness of it—knowing I could have anyone, but wanting only her.
I clenched my jaw.
More cold water ran over me.
But. . .I do have to move on. She’s married. . .this is too complicated. . .and I don’t think she even sees me that way. . .I have to find another woman to distract me so I can stop thinking about her.
Yet, none of the other women around me mattered. They wanted my body because it was easy, because muscles and money were obvious.
