Chapter 9 #2
When I was a little kid, my family had a golden retriever named Max.
Every week on laundry day, my mom would dump our laundry baskets into a pile near the laundry room.
Max would roll around in the pile of our dirty clothes, looking happier than a pig in shit.
Now, I understand why, and it’s fucking worth it.
As I unwrap myself from the sheets, I notice the small drawer in her bedside table.
My fingers curl around the bronze handle and pull it open.
My mouth pulls into a wide, wolfish grin as I stare at the items inside.
Amidst the mess of hair ties and lip balms, I find lube, a purple vibrator, and the note I left on her porch.
It’s not just the fact that she kept it that has my dick rock hard, but that she kept it here, hidden away next to her bed with her most private items. I groan, gripping my bulge through my pants.
The sudden sound of the clicking of keys in the kitchen door interrupts my thoughts.
Grabbing my jacket and boots from the floor, I quietly exit and slip into the guest bedroom.
I press my back against the wall, hiding in the shadows just beyond the reach of light from the hallway as soft noises float up from the kitchen.
My neck cranes toward the door as I try to decipher the quiet sounds.
When the familiar creaking of the stairs resonates through the empty hallway, I move quickly.
With my boots still in my hand, my feet pad quietly across the room where I flatten myself behind the open door.
Peering through the small space between the hinges, I watch as Ava thumps into the guest bedroom, her steps loud and purposeful.
She mumbles angrily to herself, “That fucking crazy bastard.” A laugh builds in my chest, but I press my lips together to stop it from escaping. I know exactly to whom she’s referring.
Her pale fingers wrap around the inner edges of the blue, polyester curtains, peering out the window.
She snorts out a frustrated breath from her nose as she yanks them shut.
She pinches her eyes shut and huffs out a guttural growling sound from between her downturned lips. She’s so cute when she’s pissed.
She spins on her heels, wrapping one ankle in front of the other and effectively tripping herself.
Her body falls forward, crashing into the door.
The force sends the door crashing into my chest, knocking the wind out of me.
She rights herself and stomps out of the room.
I stand there, pressed against the wall, slightly sore and flabbergasted as I listen to her footsteps stomp down the hallway and into her bedroom.
Reinflating my depleted lungs, I pull on my boots and stretch out on the small bed.
With my arms crossed behind my head and my legs dangling over the edge, my mind wanders.
It doesn’t go far though, just into the room next door where Ava lays in her bed.
Being so close to her makes my chest tighten with nagging need—to keep her, to possess her, to protect her.
The sound of soft snoring cuts through the silence, pulling me out of my daze.
I swivel my legs off of the bed, standing up as quietly as the creaking bed frame will allow.
My legs carry me, without any direction from my brain, directly into her bedroom.
A small night light plugged into the wall next to her bed blankets the room in a dim, orange glow.
Did she install that recently? Is she too afraid to sleep in the dark knowing that I’m out there?
My dick responds immediately to the thought, hardening painfully in my jeans.
The warmth of the tiny light falls over her soft features, making her look impossibly delicate.
Her arms are curled into her chest, pressing against her breasts and accentuating the cleavage above her thin, white tank top.
I watch her chest rise and fall with her deep, steady breaths.
The sheet is wrapped around her stomach and arms, leaving her legs bare.
Her silky, white panties are pulled high on her hips, accentuating the mouthwatering curve where they dip to meet her soft thighs.
I inch closer, until my legs are pressed against the side of the mattress.
As if controlled by anything other than my conscious will, my fingers reach out toward her.
They hesitate briefly before brushing a lock of untamed hair behind her ear.
She stirs with a small whimpering sound that forces more blood to rush to my already achingly hard cock.
The feel of her soft hair against my skin dissolves any remaining control I may have had over my actions.
I let out a haggard breath as my hand travels lower, hovering over her pale legs.
My fingers dip down, connecting with the soft skin just above her knee.
They trail upward, stroking a gentle path to the top of her thigh.
A faint moan escapes her parted lips. A jolt of anxiety coated in arousal rushes through me, knotting my stomach.
My hand freezes as I internally plead with her.
Don't wake up, little bird. I'm not ready to leave you yet.
Her eyes don't open and her breaths remain deep and steady.
But she does move; she shudders and her thighs part, opening herself to me.
A slick spot of arousal spreads along the center of her panties.
I suck in a breath and bite into my lower lip to stifle the satisfied groan building in my chest. I love how her body responds to me.
My hand clenches into a fist as the temptation to touch her more becomes irrepressible.
I give into the urge, just enough to run my thumb delicately over her panties, increasing the pressure just slightly as I reach her clit.
Her hips lift, pressing her pussy further into my hand as her back arches, begging for friction.
"Fuck," I mutter, stepping back from her bed. Every nerve ending in my body screams at me, willing me to take more. They fight against the logical part of my brain that knows it's not time yet. I need to wait.
In my life, women have only been a means to get off; a quick transaction to ease the tension in my body.
I fuck them and I leave them. I've never slept next to a woman, never held one after sex.
But looking at my little bird, I feel my resolve slipping against the overwhelming urge to curl myself around her. What is she doing to me?
I force my legs to carry me further away from her, no longer trusting my usual ironclad resolve; the one that seems to dissolve rapidly in her presence. Stealing one more glance as I backstep through the threshold of her room, a voice in the back of my head screams.
Mine.