spilled from her sports bra beneath her tank. Yes, fuck yes, that was hot, but it wasn’t her tits that made me curse out loud with enough volume that everyone in the room could hear. It was that devious little smile, that wicked look in her eyes as she’d done it that had me growing harder than stone.
My cock found it’s apparent new permanent residence in the waistband of my shorts as we finished up the class, Astrid’s workout resembling more a private recital for me than just an aerobics class. And then she’d bent into that forward fold just as I sat down to take a breath, my head seeming to grow light since all my blood had flowed to my dick, and the world stilled. It completely stopped spinning as I saw the subtle but right there in my fucking face spot of wetness centered along the seam of her black shorts, turning the material an even darker shade of black than the fabric surrounding it. And I knew, my God how I knew, she was wet for me.
And then she ran. And all that did was set off the beast inside me that wanted to chase her down and take what I know we both want.
Then the towel, because she was clearly embarrassed by how wet she felt she was, not wanting to leave the evidence on my seat, when really, I’d want her everywhere, marking everything with her essence, combining with mine to mark it as ours.
And finally we got home, and I now realize I still haven’t heard her come out of her room to make her way to the smaller guest bathroom she claimed as hers even though I told her she was free to use mine. I pause, listening closely, expecting to hear… I don’t know, some kind of movement. But nothing. And I grow worried, wondering if today had been too much too soon. She’d conquered so much today. I’d seen more life in her eyes than in the past year combined. She went out in public, exercised, been around a group of strangers, made conversation with people she didn’t know… kissed my neck like it was a brand that claimed me as her territory when that women had brushed against me, and I pray she’s not now up in her room, having a panic attack after taking on so much in one day.
I move over to and up the stairs, climbing stealthily so I can hear what’s going on behind these walls. Silence makes my ears feel numb, until I reach the carpeted floor right outside her room. I hear… something, but I can’t distinguish what it is. I put my hands against either side of the doorway, leaning forward until I press my ear to her door. And there’s that sound. A buzzing. Interrupted in intervals by a rocking noise. I close my eyes and listen more closely, trying to put an image to the sounds filling my head.
And then a muffled voice, as if her face is buried in her pillow.
Crying?
No.
Not crying.
Moaning.
Moaning into her pillow to hide the sounds of her…
Rocking noise.
Her hips, grinding so roughly it makes the bed squeak just enough to be audible through her door.
And the buzzing?
I’ve spent enough time in my BDSM club to know what that buzzing is.
A vibrator.
A vibrator as her hips rock against where her hand presses it to her wet pussy.
Her wet pussy that’s soaked that way because she’d performed for me.
And as I hear a whimper filter from beneath the door, something in me snaps, and I take hold of the doorknob.
Locked.
Locked away from the goddess inside who’s trying to make herself come after showing off just for me.
The thought to give her privacy never crosses my mind. Not once.
It’s been a year. An entire year. A full twelve fucking months since I kissed her and knew I’d never let her go. A year of living with the woman who fills my thoughts during my every waking moment. Who fills my dreams when I’m no longer awake.
I thought I could handle it. I thought I could be strong. Like last night, when I believed she wasn’t ready for me, wasn’t ready for us. That she had more healing to do before I finally took what is mine.
But I can’t. I can’t wait any longer. Not when she’s behind this door fucking herself to the image of me, when I’m right fucking here. I’m right on the other side of