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Sweet, delicious moans.
The first taste of my new addiction.
I press an ear to the door, listening intently. When I hear the evidence of her wetness, a sheer confirmation of what I already knew she was doing, my knees tremble, quaking with restraint. Blood rushes straight to my cock, painful and throbbing, before I do the only thing that'll keep me from kicking the damn door down.
Slip a hand beneath my waistband.
SEVENTEEN
JULIANA
I keep asking myself how I got here.
But all I have are piss-poor lies.
My pajama bottoms pool around my ankles as I lie in the empty bathtub, rubbing my clit in slow, slow circles. In defiance, I keep my eyes shut, ignoring the alluring photo on my phone, which sits on the lip of the free-standing tub. But it's as if Hayden's burned into my retinas, like a permanent tease in the back of my mind.
When the traitorous thoughts take over, I flick faster and faster, sway my hips harder, and soft moans breeze past my lips. I'm torn in two with an all-consuming pleasure, my every touch dripping away at my shame—
No.
I snap my eyes awake, clamping down on a moan as I cease my ministrations. An aching throb beats between my legs, begging for more, while I force any and all thoughts which start with an H and end with an N out of my headspace.
For the tenth time, I scan the bathroom, looking for a distraction. My bathroom. Mine. A fact I'll surely never grow to accept, maybe because it's double the size of my old apartment, with floating, modern countertops, a shower fit for three people, and a wall of solid glass, overlooking a view I'd only see in my dreams.
The city lights stream in through the windows, faintly illuminating the marbled floors, walls, the evidence of my touch beneath my panties—and my phone. I whip my head away, after peeking for no more than a split second, but it's far too late.
Lust pours over me, branding my vision with rock-hard abs above a boner that's so large it has to be fake.
Or rather, that was my initial reaction.
There I was, minding my own business after a long day of work, getting ready for bed, pj's and all, brushing my teeth—then boom. A raunchy, dirty, obviously fake photo pops up on my phone. Just another spam bot on social media, I thought. Highly edited—no man's abs look that good, and that dick, even though shrouded in cloth, is clearly one only destined for porn. Again, probably edited. A scammer phishing for dangerous clicks.
That is what I thought. Truly.
Until I went to delete the message and saw it wasn't from social media or even a random number, but from someone I had saved in my contacts...
I squeeze my eyes shut once more, harder this time, mentally replaying the first porn scene that comes to mind, over and over. Or fantasies I've had about classmates. Anything at all, except the thoughts that led me here, which are embarrassing and unfathomable and polished with a thick coat of denial.
My most outlandish rationalization I've devised is that I'm not actually in my body right now. Maybe I'm hypnotized. Or—okay, hear me out, I've watched enough Sci-Fi to know this could slip between the realms of possibility...
I've fallen victim to an intelligent host.
No, wait, really. I'm serious.
Someone—or something—has taken root in me. A life-form close to its animalistic origins, who's controlled by its primal urges, is using my body as some kinky outlet. The important bit being that it's NOT ME. Want to know why?
Because that complete absurdity is more believable than me masturbating over my brother's best friend. It would never happen. Not in a million years.
So, no. I have not, in fact, lost my mind. I'm just thinking of... someone else right now. Yeah.
Eyes fluttering, I sink a finger inside myself and stare out the window, letting my head rest and hair crane over the tub's ledge. I suck in my bottom lip, all but failing to quiet a whimper as I pump in and out.
If truth be told, I've only ever used one finger, but that doesn't stop me from imagining that I'm stretching around more. Another pair of fingers, entirely. Not belonging to he who shall not be named, but to Reid. A crush from college, who oftentimes, was the object of my fantasies, although I haven't thought of him in over a year.
But now's as good a time as ever.
Charging into an empty classroom on a dirty steed of distraction, Reid bends me over my desk roughly, lifts my skirt, and finds me drenched.
