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Oh, I was so going to Hell. It was one thing to dream about the man with his broad shoulders and secret tattoos and sweetly sexy eyes. That was out of my control. I couldn’t help what my subconscious did while I was asleep.
But masturbating while I thought about him? That was an entirely different sort of sin.
Eh. I was an atheist anyway, so that probably meant I didn’t believe in sins or Heaven or Hell.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I slipped a hand beneath the water and between my thighs. I was hair-free down there, you had to be in my line of work. My knees dropped outward so they rested on the sides of the bath, and I found my clit.
Closing my eyes, I imagined my hand was Zeph’s, his strong fingers rubbing my most sensitive of places. The reality was the man probably had no idea where a clit was, but in my head, he knew exactly what he was doing. He clamped one hand on my thigh, holding my legs open to him while he drank in the sight of my wet, slicked pussy.
I let out a tiny moan, rubbing my clit harder until I had to throw an arm over my face to muffle the sounds I was making. I ached to be filled. Ached for Zeph to slide into the bath with me, wrap my legs around his hips, and plunge inside me.
I made do with my fingers, two of them reaching inside to stroke my G-spot. A shudder racked my body, one desperately filled with need. I ground down on my fingers and bit my lip so I could use my other hand to go back to my clit. The two movements combined dragged every ounce of tension from my body. An orgasm spiraled up from somewhere deep inside me, and I drew it out, slowing my movement, playing with myself because in my head, it was Zeph, and I didn’t want it to end.
He’d be big. The man was huge, and I knew his cock would be too. In a bath together I’d be able to see every inch of him, every tattoo on display for me to admire and trace and lick.
I imagined his tongue tracing my tattoos, especially the one that trailed down my hip bones to swirl across my mound.
I dunked my head beneath the water while I came, so I didn’t wake the house with shouts of pleasure. The water sloshed around me as my orgasm barreled through, igniting every nerve ending, warming its way through my body like silk.
I fell asleep that night with relaxed muscles, warm tingles, and a beautiful, but completely off-limits man on my mind.
7
ZEPH
Ididn’t need to search for Lyric’s address on her employment paperwork. I’d followed her home from the club enough times to recognize the run-down apartments she called home, but I’d never gotten this close. Normally I parked down the street but today I stopped in front of the building and eyed the bottom floor, which I knew to be her place.
It wasn’t safe. That was a glaring red flag that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up straight. In the cold hard light of day, the building was in even worse state than I’d first imagined. Windows were broken and hastily boarded up. A burned-out car shell was abandoned on the sidewalk. Old mattresses and couches were piled up to the side of the door, left by tenants who probably couldn’t afford removal services.
It was bleak and made my sparsely furnished home at the church seem like a palace.
I got out of the car and picked my way across the uneven path, frowning at the complete lack of security to the building. There were no locks, no buzzers, no gates or codes. “Jesus Christ, Lyric,” I muttered, not caring that I was taking the Lord’s name in vain since there was no one here to reprimand me for it.
No wonder she was as tough as she was. She had to be to survive in this environment.
Her windows faced the street, so with a bit of mental math, I worked out which door was hers and rapped my knuckles quietly over the wood.
Noises floated out from within, including an old Elvis Presley song, the running of little feet, and an argument between two women, one who sounded suspiciously like Lyric, despite me telling her to sleep in this morning.
It was 6:00 a.m. No person sleeping in should be awake right now.
Sure enough, when the door flew open, it was Lyric standing there, her long hair pulled up in a messy bun, soft tendrils falling around her face. She was makeup-free, fresh-faced, and clearly not wearing a bra beneath her thin sleep top. Her pert pink nipples hardened beneath my gaze before I could drag my eyes back up to her face.
Fuck.
She had one eyebrow raised, zero shame that I’d caused a reaction in her, but cleared bemused by the fact I’d been looking in the first place.
Instead of trying to explain myself, I moved past her, put my sunglasses down on her kitchen counter, and barked out a question to cover the fact my cock would have liked me to stare some more. “Why are you awake?”
She shoved one hand on the curve of her hip, which I tried not to notice. The more I got to know her, the more I realized she was very different from Annie. Lyric had freckles across the bridge of her nose that Annie had never had. Lyric had curves in places that did things to me, where Annie had been more straight up and down. And Lyric had a sass and confidence about her that Annie would never have in a million years. Their hair and eyes might have been the same color, and they might have both had similar features, but beneath those surface qualities, the two women were night and day.
Except in the way I was attracted to them. Annie a long, long time ago, though sometimes it felt like yesterday. Lyric right here and right now, and just as intense, for the short time I’d known her.
“I’m not used to relying on anyone, Zeph. How was I supposed to know you’d actually show?”
I ground my molars. “I keep my word.”
