Page 17 of Triple Play
I stroke myself once. Twice. Slow and firm because if I’m already going to hell for this, might as well make it worth the trip.
I imagine it’s my hand on her instead of whatever toy she’s using. My fingers learning what makes her gasp like that. My mouth on her throat while she falls apart. My fingers deep in her pussy, strumming her g-spot.
Would she say my name? Would she dig her nails into my shoulders? Would she—
She comes.
I hear it. Muffled but unmistakable. That sharp intake of breath followed by a shaky exhale.
The sound goes straight to my cock.
I’m gripping myself too hard now, hips rocking up into my fist, chasing friction that won’t be enough because what I actually want is on the other side of this wall.
Then silence.
I lie there, hard and aching and hating myself a little. Okay, a lot.
This is why I don’t do complicated. Because complicated means wanting things I can’t have. Means listening to my roommate come and losing my mind over it.
I shove off the bed. My dick protests. I ignore it.
I head downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water. Maybe if I drink enough of it I’ll drown this wanting.
The kitchen is dark except for the light above the stove. I flip on every other switch. Flood the space with harsh fluorescent brightness that makes my eyes water.
Better.
I grab a glass. Fill it from the tap. Drink it in four swallows that do nothing to cool me down.
I’m refilling it when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Soft. Hesitant.
Then she appears in the doorway.
Elise.
Hair messy. Cheeks flushed. Wearing tiny sleep shorts and a tank top that shows too much skin. Her eyes are bright, cheeks flushed. She looks relaxed and satisfied.
She looks like every fantasy I just had and I’m standing here with an obvious hard-on in thin sweatpants.
Fantastic.
We stare at each other.
She doesn’t know I heard. Can’t know. I’d die before admitting it.
“Can’t sleep?” Her voice is a little rough.
“Never can.” I turn back to the sink. Give her my back so she can’t see how affected I am. “You?”
“Same.”
She moves past me. Close enough that I catch her scent—something clean and warm with an undertone of sweat and sex that makes my jaw clench.
She fills a glass, leans against the counter and drinks it.
I should leave. Go back upstairs. Lock myself in my room and finish what I started alone like I always do.
