I’m not going to get uptight again. None of this is a big deal, and I’m not going to act like it is.
Damian comes back into the bedroom with the wafting scent of soap. He’s still towel-drying his hair, and his pajama pants are low on his hips. He’s pulling his T-shirt on as he walks.
I don’t let myself look for too long. I might notice the flat, tight cut of his abs. The hint of dark hair above his waistband, leading down toward his groin.
“It’s a pretty good shower,” he says casually, putting the clothes he wore today back into his bag. “Good pressure.”
“Oh. That’s good. I’ll probably take one too.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Damian grab his phone and put his earbuds back in before he stretches out on one side of the bed. He’s probably going to go back to listening to the book he’s been at all day.
I can’t imagine anything less appealing than listening to Faulkner for hours, but he told me it helps to hear the book read aloud. It gives him ideas he wouldn’t have otherwise. So I leave him to it, chatting with Steve for a little longer and then getting so restless that I give up.
I collect my nightgown and toiletries and head to the bathroom.
It’s a nice one. There’s no tub, but there’s a roomy walk-in shower. I turn the water on to get warm as I take off my clothes. Unfortunately, that makes me think about Damian taking off his clothes.
And then I think of Damian taking off my clothes.
This time I can’t control the route my mind insists on taking.
I imagine him walking into the bathroom right now. Seeing me standing here naked. Kissing me until I’m breathless and then moving us into the shower to caress my body until I’m moaning and gasping. Not that I ever make much noise when I have sex in real life, but I always do in my fantasies. Then he turns me around against the wall, bends me over, and fucks me hard, making me come again and again until I’m limp and sated.
I can’t make myself stop imagining it. I try to soap up and rinse off like normal, but I end up stroking my hands over my body with a lot more attention than is entirely appropriate. My nipples are tight. My skin is hot. I’m throbbing almost painfully between my legs.
This is ridiculous.
Damian is in the bedroom on the other side of this door, and here I am so aroused by the thought of him I’m about to scream.
There’s really no choice here. I can’t go back out in this condition. There’s no telling what embarrassing, needy thing I might do.
So, bracing myself with one hand on the shower wall, I part my legs and bend over slightly. I use my other hand to rub myself off.
At home I use a vibrator to take care of my physical needs. I have a good one, and it usually does the job in less than a minute. I haven’t used my hand in a long time, and it takes longer than I expected given how turned on I already am.
I focus on my clit for a while, but it’s not enough, so I reposition to slide two fingers inside myself and pump them hard.
That’s better. I start to pant as I bend over farther to change the angle. My vigorous pumping is making a sound of wet suction, but it won’t be audible over the shower spray. Damian is listening to his audiobook anyway. He’ll have no idea what I’m doing in here, but I suddenly imagine he does.
He somehow hears me. Sees me. Stands watching as I shamelessly fuck myself with my own hand.
My panting turns into loud gasps as the tension coils down into a deep, delicious pressure. I’m going to come. I’m so close. It’s so good.
I don’t want it to be over yet.
I withdraw my hand at the last second, almost groaning at the deprivation. I bite my lower lip to keep quiet as I rub my clit, straightening up so I can use my other hand to play with my breasts.
The sensations change. Intensify. My head falls back into the shower spray as I picture Damian watching me and getting turned on by what I’m doing to myself.
He has no idea I can be sexy. He probably thinks I’m too uptight to indulge myself like this.