Chapter 25 #2
Last night was groundbreaking for me and Roe. She let down her walls and apologized for abandoning me in my hour of need.
I opened up to her more than I’ve ever opened up to anyone. We needed that. We needed to not only clear the air, but to drop
the wall between us. Yes, we’ve shared a lot of ourselves with each other over the years, but if I’m honest, I know I’ve also
held a lot back from her. In wanting to be her light, be everything she needs, I’ve kept parts of myself hidden. And if I
really want Roe to love me, she needs to know all of me—especially the dark parts. And I need to know all of her, so she feels
safe with me. That I won’t abandon her either.
And my dumb ass had to fuck it all up by trying to sleep-fuck her.
I don’t even know if that’s a fucking thing. I probably belong in jail for even attempting it though.
I just hope to God she doesn’t know what I did to her. If she does, she’ll never be able to look at me the same again, let
alone consider not divorcing me when this one-year marriage is up.
Fuck.
I get dressed and shove a baseball cap over my damp hair, pulling the bill down to hide my shame. I need to get out there
and see what she knows. See if she can even look at me. One glance and I’ll know if she thinks I’m a creep, so let’s get this
shit over with.
Steeling myself, I swing open my bedroom door and my eyes swing left when I see that she is standing in the bathroom doorway
adjacent to me. Steam billows out from behind her and she’s wrapped in an itty-bitty towel, her wet hair folded up into a
towel, revealing her damn bare shoulders. My cock instantly perks up, still clearly putting in a good fight after that cold
shower.
“Hey,” she says, her eyes dancing from me to her bedroom door as she grips a wad of dirty clothes in her hands.
I clear my throat and give back a formal “Good morning.”
She offers me a wobbly smile. “I was just . . . taking a shower.”
“I see that.” My eyes drop to her legs, glistening with humidity. “I was doing the same.”
“Nice. Showering is good.” She shoots me a bizarre smile and I can’t tell if it’s weird or normal, because my brain is just
screaming at me to fuck her.
“I, um . . . you fell asleep on the couch last night,” I stammer, pulling my hat down low because I feel like she can still
see right through me.
“Yeah . . . I, um . . . don’t think I’ve slept that good in a long time.”
I smile at that, feeling happy that she got some good sleep despite my morning . . . pursuits.
“Did you, um . . . sleep on the couch with me?” Her cheeks flush red and I wince as my cock twitches.
“Yeah, um. I did sleep there with you.” I frown, wondering if she’s trying to tell me she knows. Either way, I can’t lie to
her. “Sorry about that but I didn’t want to wake you so . . .”
Her eyes soften as she stares up at me, her lips parted, breaths coming in heavier. “You slept on the couch with me all night
to not wake me?”
“Yeah,” I state gruffly and my face flushes. It’s hard to make eye contact with her when she looks at me like that. “Anyways.”
With a deep inhale, I make a move to head down the hall, and Addison apparently has the same idea as she steps forward at
the same time, bumping into me and twirling on her foot, dropping the ball of clothes in her hands.
“Shit, sorry.” I bend over to help her pick them up and she shoves me away.
“It’s fine, I got ’em.” She grabs them all with one hand while holding her towel with the other and before I can say another word, she turns on her heel and hauls ass to her bedroom, slamming the door abruptly behind her as she goes.
She totally knows I tried to sleep-fuck her.
I lean on the doorway and cast my eyes downward as I shake my head, and my lips part when I catch sight of something.
Tiny pale blue underwear that look . . .
Moist.
There’s that fucking word again.
I divert my eyes away, feeling like I’m invading her privacy by not only looking at her underwear but noticing how . . . damp
they are. Are those what she had on last night? They sure look like it.
Was it what I was doing to her this morning that caused all that . . . moisture? Was she awake for all of that? My cock thickens
in my jeans just at the idea of that. The idea that she wanted me to do what I did to her. That she encouraged it. Or that
even in her sleep, she wanted me.
What happens next isn’t something I’m proud of. In fact, it’s something that puts my sleep fuckery game to shame.
Next thing I know, I bend over and pick them up, turning to go back into my bedroom, closing the door, and locking it behind
me. My primitive, baseless, animalistic caveman comes out and like a man on fucking fire, I unbuckle my belt, ruck out of
my jeans. I bring her panties to my nose like a ravenous beast, breathing in the damp scent of her, desperate to taste her
arousal before wrapping the fabric around my cock and pumping my throbbing cock like I’ve never pumped it before.
“Fuuuck,” I growl as I hunch over, gripping the dresser with my free hand, and grind the lacy blue fabric over my length in
rapid speed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan, dropping my chin to my chest, my abs clenching as I picture her wet pussy lips dripping with arousal.
For me.
She got herself soaking wet in these lacy blue panties.
For me.
“Oh God,” I grunt, feeling my climax crest quicker than I ever imagined, and I hunch over and cover my tip with the fabric,
blowing my hot load into it.
My body quakes and shivers, jerking every last drop from my raw unit. I hiss as I wipe the sensitive tip off before pulling
my jeans back up and buckling myself back in.
I stare at the panties drenched with my semen and wonder what the fuck I’m going to do to hide this from my roommate.
My wife.
My stomach is a pit of right and wrong. What the fuck did I just do? Addison is not going to want to stay married to me if
she knows I’m a goddamn sexual deviant.
With a huff, I stuff them into my jeans pocket and stomp out of my bedroom, grateful to see her door is still closed.
There are still embers on the fire in the living room, so I toss the panties onto them and lay fresh wood over top, stoking
the fire and adding bits of kindling to get the flames going again.
As I brace myself on the mantel and stare at the lacy fabric turning black in the flames . . . I vow to myself to never tell
a single soul what I’ve just done. And if my dad is watching from somewhere up above . . . well . . . all I can say is, “Forgive
me, Father, I know not what I do.”