Page 41 of Theta

"I snuck out of my room, went down to the beach, waded out until the water was just below my groin, and I closed my eyes, and I pictured you in that bikini, walking toward me, reaching back to untie it, and I jerked off for the first time."

There's a fraught silence. "Killy, no. You're saying…"

"You were my sexual awakening, the reason for my first orgasm."

She lets out a soft breath that's not quite a whimper. "Holy shit, Killian."

"And every time I've ever jerked off since, it's you I picture. Even when I try to think of something else or someone, I can't. It's always you. It's always been you."

She's silent for a long, tense moment. "All this time?"

I nod. "Always. When I say you've tortured me, I mean it. It's been fucking torture. Watching you turn into this fucking stunning woman, so smart, so successful, so fucking gorgeous…but not mine. Not for me. You're all I've ever wanted."

Story nuzzles my lips with hers. "And now look. I am for you, now."

“It’s hard to believe. Hard to…to let myself believe it. I've loved you from afar for so fucking long. I don't know how to let myself internalize that this is real."

Story leans back and peels her scrub top off, revealing a taut, toned stomach and a tight black Nike sports bra. And even with the tight compression of that garment, her rack is fucking spectacular.

"Does it seem more real, now?" she whispers.

"Starting to," I answer, palming her belly.

"Keep going."

"What about—"

"Listen," she whispers.

I tilt my head, listening, and I hear it—a loud, snorting snore. A low sucking breath, and then another snort and a long snore.

"As long as we can hear him snoring, we're good." She leans into me, pressing her chest against mine, lifts up, nips the tip of my chin, and then her fingers trail over my abs, dance down to trace the waist of my jeans.

My stomach curls in on itself at her touch, and I exhale shakily. "Shit, Story."

"You want to hear my confession?" she breathes, fingers toying with the button of my fly.

"Yes."

"I've touched myself thinking about you, Killian. Ever since the summer you turned eighteen."

"You'd been gone a long time."

“Yeah. Med school. Kind of demanding, y'know?"

"So I've heard."

"You grew up while I was gone. Last time I saw you before that summer, you were still this gangly not-quite kid. And then suddenly you were tall and buff and hot, and I couldn't stop staring at you and thinking about you. It was so weird at first, how intense the attraction was." She fiddles with the button some more, and then kisses my chin just below my lower lip, and then claims my mouth and licks her tongue along the seam of my mouth. "Your story is a lot like mine. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it. I made it three days. But in those three days, I doubt I slept more than a few hours at a time, because I kept having wet dreams about you."

“Are you for real?" I ask.

"God yes. I'd wake up sweating and horny and seconds from exploding, and when I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, all I saw was you. And unlike you, I did have experience, so I knew exactly what to picture." She tugs open the button, drags the zipper down millimeter by millimeter with a slow zzzhhrrrripping sound. "And picture I did. In detail. I couldn’t help it. I'd lay in that bed, and I'd think about you. About this…" her fingertip trails over the bulge of my cock filling the open V of my fly, and I hiss, twitching at her touch. "And I'd touch myself."

"Jesus, Story."

"Did you jerk off to me that summer?" she asks.

"Only every goddamn day," I admit.