t-shirt, kicked off the rest of my clothes and stepped under the steaming hot water.
And as soon as I closed my eyes under the stream of water, I saw Brooklyn’s face. I always saw her face when I closed my eyes. She was spread out naked, tangled in my sheets. The morning sun lighting up her face.
I tried to ignore the image of her as I soaped myself up. But I could feel myself getting hard just thinking about her. Fuck. I pressed my forehead against the cool tile. Yes, I saw Brooklyn when I closed my eyes. And whenever I thought of her, I either got angry, mopey, or…desperate to have her. I found it best to get her out of my system as quickly as possible, despite how I felt. When I was angry, I’d go for a run. When I was mopey, I stuffed that emotion down by focusing on work. And when I wished she was beneath me?
I wrapped my soapy hand around my cock, picturing her hand instead. No, her mouth. God, her perfect little mouth. Her looking up at me innocently. Because I was the only person she’d ever sucked off. I was her first and only everything.
Seeing how hard she made me used to get her off. The first time she spread her legs for me was because she knew how badly I needed her. I pictured that first time. In her skirt that was too short. In her blouse that was cut too deep, showing off the tops of her large breasts. I’d been doomed since the first time she’d walked into Empire High. She’s been mine before we ever spoke. And we both knew it.
I stroked myself faster, picturing her here with me in the shower. Her back pressed against the tile. Her tits against my chest. Her screaming my name.
I should have tried to think about anyone I’d fucked over the past few months instead. The girl from the café down the street. Or the random woman stalking me at my games.
But all I saw was Brooklyn. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Her fingers buried in my hair. Her trying to stifle her moans so we wouldn’t be caught.
Fuck. Stream after stream of my cum landed on the tile floor. My breath was ragged as my hand stopped. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to leave the image of her alone in the shower. I didn’t want her to disappear.
That was the other thing about thinking about her when I was hard. As soon as I wasn’t, the mopey shit started. My arousal gave way to guilt. If I’d protected her, she’d still be here. I could still touch her. Hold her. Kiss her.
I was sick. I was lusting over a ghost. I pictured her when I was alone. I pictured her face when I closed my eyes with other women. I saw her everywhere.
I felt my stupid tears mix with the water falling down on me. I knew I needed to stop thinking about her. But I couldn’t.
I just needed to focus my energy on something else. I’d call my real estate agent. I’d find a new place to fix up. A smaller place with less room to grow, or just another flip. And I’d get back to work. MAC International didn’t grow itself. I took a deep breath as I rinsed the soap off myself. That was the best part of owning an international finance firm. You could work all night.
Chapter 7
Saturday
I looked out the window at the city speeding by. All my friends had personal drivers, security, the whole shebang. I had the money to live their lifestyles. But I preferred to take a taxi or drive myself. I preferred to do a lot of things differently than my friends. And the thought of someone following me around all day, watching me unravel more each day…I couldn’t stand it.
“Matt?”
I shook my head. I’d spaced out while listening to my real estate agent, Bill, go over some details on the phone. “Yes?”
“Are you sure you want to sell?” Bill asked. “I was under the impression that you were fixing it up for yourself. I didn’t realize you’d be looking again any time soon.”
I kept my eyes glued out the window as the taxi sped up. “I outgrew it.” I found myself scanning the people walking along the sidewalk. Looking for…I didn’t really know what I was looking for anymore.