12. Isaac
Chapter 12
Isaac
“Come on,” I sigh. Pork Belly is taking her sweet time sniffing every tree, rock, and blade of grass. “It’s going to rain any minute.” I try to appeal to her, but she’s more interested in the bush she’s shoved her face into. Brinn told me PB found a hot dog there, and now she has to stop and check every time.
At least if I stay out here, there’s less chance of running into Brinn. And then we’ll both be stuck in our houses until the storm passes.
I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I said that. The overwhelming pride in her broke down my already crumbling barrier, and it just spilled out. Her shocked face was all I needed to see—she’s not into me. I let the lines blur in my head, and that’s on me. I hope I didn’t fuck up our friendship with my little question.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I tell PB as I grab the back of her harness to redirect her to the sidewalk. “We have to get going.” I can see the blur of rain falling in the distance, rapidly heading this way. “Should we run?” I say with fake enthusiasm. PB’s whole body wiggles in excitement. “Come on, girl!” I say as I break into a jog that she easily joins.
Luckily, we hit the porch moments before the rain starts.
I double-check that all the windows are closed before enjoying dinner while we still have power. I pointedly ignore the window facing toward Brinn’s.
The lights flicker, and I take it as a sign to break out the candles and lanterns. I hope Brinn has enough candles. I should have asked. I know she can take care of herself, but I want to take care of her, too. Even if we are just friends.
With a sigh, I decide that 8 PM is a great time to retire for an evening of reading in bed. If I sit in my quiet living room, I am going to think about how much I wish Brinn were here.
Pork Belly snores from the corner, oblivious to the storm outside. The power went out about an hour ago, but luckily, my reading light is fully charged. I bet I can get a few more chapters in before I fall asleep.
A soft glow appears outside of the window. Like a moth, I cannot help but gravitate towards it.
There is light coming from Brinn’s bedroom. A lantern set near her window illuminates her as she walks in front of the window. She pauses for a moment, and I wonder if she can see me staring at her. She must not because she continues to grab things from around her room.
I should stop watching. I shouldn’t be spying on her like this.
She stops in front of the window again, and despite the haze of rain, I can see everything. She unbuttons her cardigan and lets it slide off her shoulders.
I need to stop watching her. She must have forgotten to close the blinds with how dark the entire block is. I can see her hands go to the hem of her shirt.
I need to call her, let her know her window is open, and she should close it from prying eyes. I should close my prying eyes.
Her shirt slides up her plush stomach and over her head, leaving her perfect breasts hidden by only a small bra. One whose delicate, canary yellow lace straps were visible under her tank top earlier. I know exactly how the color glows against her skin.
I tear my eyes away from the window and reach for my phone, pulling up Brinn’s contact as she seems to wait in front of the window. It rings once before I see the glowing device in her hands.
“Brinn.” My voice is rough with need. I am desperately hoping she can’t hear how badly I want her to keep going.
“Isaac,” she breathes. Through the window, I watch her hand trail down her body to the waistband of her shorts. “Is everything okay?” she asks as I watch her fingers undo the button.
“Brinn, your window is open.”
“Is it?” she asks as she pulls the zipper down.
“Yes,” I grind out. All the blood is rushing from my brain to my dick as her shorts slide over her hips, and the yellow lace boy shorts beneath are revealed.
“Are you still watching me?”
I freeze, caught. But the tone of her voice isn’t angry. It’s... teasing. Breathy. Hot. I can almost feel her words against my skin, like she is close enough to touch.
“I want you to watch,” she says. I watch as she places her phone next to her and turns away from the window. Her perfectly carved ass is gilded in gold lace and light. “Are you watching, Isaac?” she asks again.
“Yeah,” I breathe out as her fingers pull the fabric over her ass, leaving her bare.
“I think you might have been onto something earlier,” she says as she turns back around. Even at a distance, my mouth waters at the soft V of light brown hair between her thighs.
“What?” I croak out.
“I don’t think we’re just friends,” she says as her hands come to the band of her bra, and she slowly pulls it over her head.
“Fuck.” Her perky tits are fully on display, and as she cups one in her hand with a gentle pinch to her nipple, I know they’d fit perfectly in my palms. “Do that again,” I tell her, and my voice is little more than a growl.
My cock twitches as the giggle turns into a gasp as she complies. There are so many sides to Brinn Michaels, and I think I am seeing the final one bared to me.
“Do you think about me?” she asks.
“Constantly,” I say as I finally give in and give my throbbing dick a rough stroke through my shorts. Her free hand comes to the V between her thighs, and her breath hitches. “Fuck, Brinn.”
“I think about you, too.” I’m too far away to see the finer movements of her hand, but the indulgence is clear in her airy voice. “Constantly.”
“Get on the bed and spread your legs for me,” I tell her. “I can see your bed from here.”
She chuckles softly as she turns towards the bed, wiggling her ass as she crawls into position. Her knees fall open as she lies back, propped up by pillows so that she can still see out the window.
“Like this?” she says, her hand running down her soft thigh.
“Yeah, just like that. Tell me how wet you are.”
Any thoughts of propriety, of friendly boundaries, of anything but how much I need her are gone. How could I possibly keep them in mind when she looks so gorgeous?
Her fingers dip into her sex, and I stroke my dick, imagining her hand on it.
“Soaked,” she says with a moan.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me; let me hear you.”
“Fuck, Isaac,” she says as her head falls back. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you how much I want you.” She whimpers, “I wish you were here.”
My hand stills. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Is your spare key still under the flowerpot?”
She’s quiet for a heartbeat. “Yes.”
“Don’t you dare come before I get there,” I say before hanging up.