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7
Addilyn
Iknew what Gideon did the second I caught sight of him lying back on his bed, and I stared a few seconds too long at his hand, slick and glistening in the lowered lights. He took advantage of my pause to tease me. Wrapping my panties around his length and jerking off in them.
Jackass.
My pulse thrumming in my ears, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, my hands in a white-knuckle clench on the vanity’s edge.
He used my panties—dirty ones from the basket behind me.
Totally gross, and yet my core pulsed at the thought.
I’d never seen a guy masturbate before. Never saw a guy’s penis outside of drawings in my health class and a few pictures I’d peeked at on my new cell when Jenny had slept over the night after Christmas.
Red fused my cheeks, and I cupped them in my hands, quietly cursing myself, cursing Gideon.
I hated that he made my insides ache with longing Mother said only older women ought to feel.
I hated how the way he bit his lower lip churned up my mind over breaking my determination to wait for my sweet sixteen kiss too.
I hated that Mother showed him as much attention as she did me and thought she could earn his appreciation and respect with gifts.
Lips tight, I yanked open the top vanity drawer and grabbed my brush. A few harsh strokes straightened a bit of the natural curl to my hair, and I once again cursed—but this time at Mother for not allowing me to cut my hair into a short bob like I’d always wanted.
Long hair was beautiful, she claimed. Feminine and graceful when pinned up for special events. Classy rather than whorish.
Chit’n Chat never said anything like that about hair styles, and her words made me wonder what Mother had been taught as a kid—not enough to ask though. The last thing I needed was more “woe is me” bullshit from the woman who was supposed to love me unconditionally.
All but growling, my eyes stinging over the relentless knots, I tossed the brush away and finished with my nightly routine. The temptation to keep Gideon locked out of the bathroom had me nibbling my lower lip while studying his door, but in the end, I relented and unlocked his before scampering back to my bedroom—and locking mine from the outside.
Heart once more pounding, I stared at my door and waited, knowing he would want to wash up the mess he’d made.
I remembered hearing his moans the first night he’d moved in. Jenny and I had been wide-eyed and staring at one another as he’d taken care of himself in the shower. We had giggled afterward, but I’d never been able to rid my mind of the image I’d conjured. Every time my ears caught the hint of him doing it again, that night came to mind.
And now I have the real thing to imagine.
Blowing out a heavy exhale, I turned down my lights, shook off my robe to leave at the foot of my bed, and crawled beneath my covers. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, knowing I wouldn’t ever be able to sleep.
Jenny was a night owl, so I grabbed my cell off my bedstand.
Me: Awake still?
She called rather than texting a reply. “Did you give it to him?”
I rolled my eyes. “Never, but I caught him jerking off,” I whispered, biting back a giddy smile.
“No. Way.”
“Seriously. With the panties I wore yesterday.”
“What?”
“He must have gotten them out of the dirty laundry.”
“Oh my God,” she moaned, and I could see her flopping back onto her bed as an oomph noise filled my ear. “Tell me. Vivid details, please. How thick, how long. Veins and all.”
I tried to fulfill my best friend’s fantasy but couldn’t find the right words to adequately describe the vision of his hips lifting, abs flexing, the small noises rumbling in his chest as his hand made a wet sound while sliding up and down his length.
