Page 19 of Spyder
She turns around, a faint smile curling the corners of her lips, a mischievous glitter in her eye. It’s as if she’d expected me to stop her before she got away. And as her smile grows, it hits me that she knew I’d stop her all along and forced the issue by walking away. She played me. Clever girl. But hey, it got me to do what I should have done from the start.
“Listen,” I say. “How about we go get a drink sometime? I’d love to catch up.”
“I’d like that,” she replies.
She walks back toward me and holds her hand out to me. And instinctively knowing what she’s asking for, I hand her my phone. She gives me a sly grin.
“You’re well-trained,” she says.
I laugh as she plugs in her number then hands the phone back to me. Our eyes connect and it feels like my stomach is spinning like a pinwheel inside of me.
“So, I guess I’ll hear from you later then,” she says.
“Count on it.”
“I will,” she replies, her tone flirtatious.
Bellamy turns and heads off toward the parking lot, leaving me there gaping after her like a witless buffoon. Which seems to be a recurring theme with me tonight. Still, the fact that I was able to ask her out, something I was never able to do back in the day, feels pretty damn good. I’ll take the win.
Thunder crashes overhead, louder than before, reminding me that I’m on a clock here. Making my food decision quickly, I head toward the Golden Panda for some take-out Chinese food, ready to call it a night.
***
The rain hit when I was still about ten minutes from home, and it was a deluge of freezing cold water. By the time I got my bike into the carport and out of the rain, I was pretty well-soaked to the bone. Good thing my saddlebags are watertight. I pull my food out, head to the side door, unlock it, and slip inside.
I set my food on the counter, then hang my kutte on the peg by the door. My house is a small two-room craftsman I bought with a VA loan a few years back. It isn’t much, but it’s all I need. Sometimes, coming home to a dark, empty house is kind of lonely. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog lately and may have to force myself to pull the trigger on that.
Careful to not drip water everywhere—I like to keep things tidy, but I’m not the neat freak Monk is—I make my way to my bedroom and quickly strip out of my clothes. I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower, then hang my clothes in the bathroom instead of wadding them up and tossing them into the hamper where they’ll mildew. Nothing smells worse than mildewed clothing.
When the steam starts billowing out of the stall, I jump in and slide the door closed, resting my forehead against the cool tile of the wall as the nearly scalding water rains down over my body, warming my skin. As my body defrosts, so does my mind. And as it does, Bellamy’s face flashes through my mind.
She was amazing to look at, but more than that, there’s a vibrancy in her spirit that’s intoxicating. She seems a lot freer and more open than she did back in high school. That girl, way back then, never would have flirted with me the way she did. In fact, she didn’t. But the woman Bellamy is today seems imbued with a confidence and self-possession that she didn’t have before. And it’s attractive as hell.
As I think about Bellamy, the warm water seems to wake up the rest of my body and before I realize it, I’m harder than steel. Reaching down, I grab hold of my cock and start to stroke it slowly. In my mind’s eye, I picture Bellamy naked, standing in front of me. I imagine her reaching out and taking hold of my cock just the way that I’m gripping it now.
I fantasize about laying her down and running my hands up and down her tight, curvy body, then following that with my tongue. In my mind, I picture myself burying my face between her thighs and sliding my tongue deep inside of her. I close my eyes, trying to imagine the warm, wet slickness of her pussy against my lips. Imagine the scent and taste of her sweet nectar.
I grip my staff harder, pumping it faster as I visualize taking Bellamy from behind. I have my hands on her shoulders, pulling her backward as I thrust my cock deep into her. In my fantasy, Bellamy is tight, and I groan as I imagine the sound of her bare ass, so round and smooth, slapping against my skin as I pound myself into her. My entire body feels like it’s on fire and it has nothing to do with the heat of the shower raining down on my skin.
My moan echoes around the shower stall as I continue jerking myself off, thinking about having my staff buried deep inside of her. I imagine what it’s like to kiss her, have her tongue in my mouth and her hands on my body as I fuck her.
I pump my staff harder, imagining myself on top of her. I can feel her soft, supple skin beneath me and feel her legs wrapped around my waist. She clings to me tightly, her moans and gasps echoing through my mind as I drive myself into her again and again.
My breathing is ragged, and my heart is racing as I feel myself building to a climax, picturing myself sheathed inside of her as I stare into her dark eyes. And as my cock starts to pulse in my hand, I moan, Bellamy’s name crossing my lips as I erupt, shooting thick ropes of cum that are washed down the drain.
I lean my head against the tile again, letting those pleasant post-orgasm tingles course through me. And as that glow begins to fade, so, too, does the image of Bellamy in my mind. And as it does, I know I’m in trouble. I can already feel myself falling back into old feelings for her once more. Emotions that I thought were long dead and buried, that I haven’t given thought to in years, rise to the surface again.
But then, I recall the smile on her lips and that gleam in her eye as we spoke earlier and think to myself that this time could be different. That my affection might not go unrequited this time.
“This time will be different,” I vow quietly to myself.
Chapter Nine
Bellamy
The waitress refills our mimosas then hustles off to see to her other guests. I take a sip and settle the champagne flute down on the table. The storm that blew through last night had been violent but quick. The dark clouds that had socked us in last night, sending sheets of rain cascading down and spitting out blinding bolts of lightning had given way to a perfectly azure sky. Patches of thick and fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the blue, making it a picturesque afternoon.
“This was a fantastic idea, Rube. I definitely needed a little R&R, and a lot of this,” I say and raise my glass to her.
