nothing to him. If I was as smart as my parents raised me to be, it’d mean nothing to me, too. But as he leads me out into the dry night air, the sounds of the band fading behind us, I have to wonder if I’m safer dodging Samuel’s attempts on my own.
Chapter 5
Ford
Last night, I dropped Lia off and drove straight home to take a cold shower. Only, the water was lukewarm and my dick could’ve cut through metal as easily as the jaws of life.
That fucking wedding. That fucking photographer and her kiss cam.
It should be called Sleepless Night Cam. Because that’s all I got after that smoking-hot kiss with Lia.
Wescott.
As if referring to her by her last name will wipe out how right she felt plastered against me, how responsive she was as soon as my mouth was on hers.
I roll out of bed and rub my eyes. I need to rub something else.
My boxers strain against my raging morning erection. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been laid in a while and I’m not used to waking up with a load that weighs a ton.
Or maybe it’s because I tossed and turned, dreaming of soft lips against my mouth and hard nipples pressing into my chest. With that dress she wore, it wouldn’t have been anything to sneak her into a bathroom stall or behind the bushes or, hell, even into my car.
But Lia’s not like that. She’s not public sex and meaningless fucks. She’s classy. Sex in the bushes at my stepsister’s wedding is not classy.
Dammit. We left before I could congratulate Karoline. I’m sure she’ll hold it against me, and it’s not like I can tell her that I couldn’t hold Lia through another dance and keep my body under control. When Lia said twerking and I pictured her ass bumping up and down, ripe enough to sink my teeth into—
Then the kiss.
I give my face one last scrub. My erection is painful now and I have no options. Okay, maybe one…
I heave my way to the bathroom. I have a full day before I work with her again. And while I’m willing to jack off in my bed like a fifteen-year-old, I can take care of business in the shower like an adult and find some relief.
I flip the water on and get in before it warms up. No help. I’m still hard enough to carve my name into a diamond.
As the water warms up, I palm myself, hissing at my own touch. I’m desperate. Giving my dick a pump, I let my mind wander to Lia’s wide eyes and kiss-plump lips… Involuntarily, I tighten my grip.
Releasing myself with a jerk, I grab the shampoo. I can’t do this. I can’t jerk off to my partner. But by the time my scalp’s scrubbed and rinsed, nothing’s changed. My erection isn’t going away.
What did I used to think about when I masturbated?
The last time was when Cass was pregnant. She felt bloated and enormous—her words—and refused to let me touch her. Before she left me and stomped on my heart—before the big ultrasound I wasn’t invited to—I used to dream about her larger breasts and the curve of her growing belly.
I hate to do it, but I wrap my hand around my dick again and stroke.
I try picturing Cass’s face, but all I can see is her pout when she tells me I disappointed her. Then the way her eyes flash when she says a manwhore like me can’t be a role model for her kid.
Her kid.
My grip tightens to painful.
Dammit.
Well, that takes care of my erection. I should feel like running a marathon the way blood’s streaming back into my body. But by the time I wash myself and do a down and dirty shave, the feather of Lia’s lips under mine fills my brain and blood’s rushing back to my groin.
Fuck.
Just get it done.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of nothing but the paltry pleasure I can bring myself.
Finally, I’m getting somewhere. As steam billows around me and water sluices down my hypersensitized skin, I pump my fist. A shock of red lips flashes through my brain. A firm ass bouncing up and down with gauzy yellow material swaying over flesh that has to be as creamy and smooth as the rest of her.
I grit my teeth and slam a hand against the slippery shower tile, my other hand working so furiously that the water makes a piss-poor lube. If