Jesus, I didn’t care about her tattoos. I just needed to get some sleep. The more ground we covered tomorrow, the sooner I’d be rid of her.
I needed to be on my own. I operated best that way. All this time spent in close quarters with her was fucking with my head.
Or rather, with my dick. My head knew what was best for me. The aching erection in my pants did not.
I decided a quick shower was in order. I’d wash off the road and take care of this biological overreaction so I could get some fucking rest.
The hot water felt good, calming my nerves and soothing my knotted muscles. I washed, half expecting my erection to go away on its own.
It didn’t.
Fine. Bracing myself against the shower wall, I took my cock in my hand. Just pressure at first. A squeeze at the base. An answering pulse rippled through me. God, that felt good already. Apparently I needed this.
Closing my eyes, I took deep breaths as I started to stroke. The image that came to mind was only half real—I hadn’t actually seen her like this—but was there any point in fighting it?
Not when I knew it was going to get me off fast.
I could practically feel my fingers digging into her ass. See her pussy on display for me. It wasn’t her—didn’t have to be her. It was just a fantasy. Just my imagination. Just some girl bent over in front of me, ready for me to fuck her dirty.
Stroking harder now, I kept that image in my mind. I needed to get this over with. Needed release. My cock was thick, throbbing in my fist, white-hot tension building fast.
I held the groans I wanted to unleash locked in my throat as I rubbed it out. That was it. Just a little more and I’d come all over that hot ass.
Fuck yes. My teeth ground together, my jaw tight, and the muscles in my back clenched. The tension in my groin skyrocketed as I raced to the edge, and I rolled with the fantasy in my head, picturing the come hitting her ass. Claiming her. Marking her as mine.
My dick pulsed hard and I barely contained a throaty growl. I started to come and, oh god, sweet relief. I stroked it out while my cock throbbed in my hand, over and over. Fuck, that felt good.
Pausing for a moment, I kept my eyes closed, basking in that brief moment of post-orgasm bliss. I was breathing hard but the aching tension in my groin was appeased.
There. Better. I was sated.
At least for now.
I finished cleaning up and got out of the shower. Now that my erection was gone, exhaustion swept through me. I dried off and tugged on some underwear and a t-shirt. Hopefully I’d be warm enough, although at this point, I didn’t think it would matter. I was past the point of needing comfort to fall asleep. I’d be out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Fiona was in bed when I came out, curled on her side beneath the covers. She hugged the edge of the bed, like she’d tried to leave room for me. Which was kind of sweet in a weird way. I’d told her I’d sleep on the floor.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t sweet. Maybe she was trying to keep as much space between us as possible.
Didn’t matter.
I got into my makeshift bed and closed my eyes. Clean, relaxed. The hard floor underneath me wasn’t so bad. Any second now, sleep would overtake me.
But it didn’t.
I waited, trying to clear my mind and accept sleep. To slip into oblivion. But I still couldn’t.
Then she moved.
Sheets whispered across her skin and my eyes flew open. I was thinking about her ass again. Was she wearing those pajamas to bed? I never thought I could be so preoccupied with blue plaid shorts, but here I was.
Not sleeping.
Fuck.
She moved again, and this time it sounded like she’d turned over. Maybe turned toward me. Was she having trouble sleeping?
An instinct I thought I’d suppressed flared to life. I had a sudden urge to ask her if she was okay. Maybe even climb up in that bed with her, hook an arm around her waist, and pull her next to me.
That was a good way to get punched in the throat, even if I’d wanted to do it.
Which I didn’t.
I turned away from the bed and adjusted the pillow. This was fine.