Page 115 of Lost & Found

“Give the cards to Lisa for me,” she said. “It’s probably best she look them over first. Make sure she’s comfortable with the spice level before you all involve the group.”

Her eyes didn’t leave the box, and I wondered if she was having second thoughts about giving them to me.

“With them being unopened, I have no idea how intense they are.”

That was a lie. She knew Kinsley well enough to know they’d have some serious kick, hence the warning.

“You can shower first.”

She moved to the small table, dismissing me. I nodded once because there wasn’t much else to do. But I couldn’t help staring as she chose the one seat that would put her back to me. It was more than a dismissal.

It was her erecting a brick wall.

When she flipped open her sketchbook, it was with more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the quiet. She turned one page, then another, before settling. The silence thickened. I stood there longer than I should have, hoping she might look up.

She didn’t. Instead, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and slid her earbuds in, effectively sealing herself off. Each move left me gutted. With a quiet exhale, I turned, feeling incredibly lost.

I had no desire to go down to dinner without her. I sure as shit didn’t want to do game night with any of them. I’d rather sit in silence with her. She didn’t understand that I was only hanging on because she was there. I needed her to anchor me.

How fucking pathetic can you get, asshole?

Grabbing clothes, I headed toward the bathroom. Once inside, I put on a playlist and took several deep breaths. I would go down to dinner at least. If nothing else, that would show her I respected the boundary she’d drawn.

She needed space. I’d give it to her. At least for now. Because there was no way this was getting buried. We could talk later, and I vowed we would. I turned the shower on and stepped beneath the spray.

The heat hit first, loosening the tight coil in my shoulders. Steam filled the space. I adjusted the shower-head to pulse. The pressure thudded against my back. Water streamed down my chest, over my abdomen, and I forced myself to focus on the physical sensation—soap, heat, rinse—except an image wouldn’t stop replaying in my mind.

Her on the roller coaster.

Her head tipped back. Her lips parted and her breathing rapid. The way she had looked at me. I dragged the washcloth down my chest and exhaled hard. Her words as she begged me to touch her played on repeat.

Coupled with those thoughts and the water running down my body, my cock now stood at attention. That didn’t take long. And neither did the spiral. I closed my eyes and visualized her in the red bikini.

I reached down, wrapping my hand around my thick shaft. I tugged, squeezing it from base to tip, and hissed. Stroking myself slowly, I envisioned lubing her chest, pushing her luscious breasts together and gliding my cock between the deep cleavage, creating a nice slick channel to fuck. I picked up the speed, letting out a soft moan.

Did I lock the door? She wouldn’t come in anyway, even if I hadn’t. But fuck, what would she do if she came in and caught me?

The vision shifted from me fucking her perfect tits to her walking in on me. In the fantasy, she would stare down at my cock, mouth open. She would unbutton her shorts, sliding them off.

With an equal amount of slowness, she’d peel my T-shirt off, along with the skimpy top, watching my every stroke. Then the red bottoms would come off. She’d join me in the shower, asking if she could taste me.

I’d shake my head and tell her, ladies always go first. And I would fucking kneel for her. Kiss that soft belly of hers before delving between her legs. Just the thought of her taste on my tongue had me gripping my cock harder and pumping.

God, what I wouldn’t give for one sweet, sweet taste of her pussy.

I’d start by kissing her softly before introducing her to my tongue. Her legs would fall open like they did earlier on the ride, and I’d grab hold of her round ass and dive in. Sucking her swollen clit would have her back bowing beautifully.

In my fantasy, she would play with her nipples. With each moan she would make, I would counter it and watch as the vibration traveled through her body, intensifying everything. Warmth spread from my stomach, chest, and up my neck to my face.

My hand picked up pace as I imagined her letting go and getting loud with me. Would she beg me to make her come? How would her juices taste and what the fuck would her face look like as she came all over my tongue?

Would she grind her pussy in my face, wanting it as much as I did? The thought alone of her losing control had the muscles in my neck and chest flexing, bulging as I threw my head back and pumped my cock furiously.

Damn, it felt good.

My balls drew up tight against my body and the muscles in my stomach tensed as I thought about her screaming my name. I bit my lip to silence the roar I wanted to let loose, and then it hit. Hard. With one last tug, I opened my eyes and streams of cum burst from the tip of my cock.

I moaned into the spray of water, hoping it—coupled with the music still playing—covered the sound. The tension left my chest and neck, and I dropped my head. Closing my eyes, I let the warm water run down the back of my head.