Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Zedediah
When voices in the hallway wake me, I roll over to check the time.
I got in a little bit later than I’d hoped after dropping the rental car off and catching a Lyft back to my hotel, but I was okay with it, thinking I’d be able to sleep in an hour or so.
I run my hand over my face and let out a groan.
This was the last time I didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn, but the sound tells me the group in the hall are probably drunk and just now getting in.
I rub the sleep out of the corner of my eyes as I throw the blankets off and drag my feet out of bed before heading to the bathroom to shower.
I grab the soap and hotel provided loofa, working up a lather. The water trails down my body, the steam covers the glass door, but it’s the thought of her, and my hard dick, that’s suffocating me.
Catarina.
Her name rolls through my mind. Every syllable curls into the corners of my thoughts and there’s no escaping it, not that I’d want to. My hand drifts down, stopping when I brush against the hardness between my legs. This throbbing is all her doing.
Wrapping my fingers around myself, I give my dick a tight squeeze as the soap lathers across my sensitive skin, leaving it slick.
I release my grip and trail my hand to my balls, cupping them before applying the same pressure, my other hand braces myself against the shower door.
The steam in the air thickens, and I can no longer see through the glass.
I let go of my balls and curl my hand around myself, starting off with slow, firm strokes.
My strokes quicken, the soap allowing my hand to glide along my shaft.
I imagine it’s her hand. Her soft fingers wrapped around me, her mouth close to my ear, whispering filthy things.
“This is mine,” she whispers in my ear, the steam from the shower feeling as if her warm breath is trailing up my earlobe. “All mine.”
The fantasy takes over, and I can feel her lips trailing down my stomach, her nails dragging down with them, leaving faint red marks in their wake.
I pin her against the wall, just like this, her body is pressed hard against mine, trapping her between the cool glass and the heat from the shower.
I grunt out, “You’ve been waiting for this. Haven’t you?” I think about wrapping my hands around her throat, cutting off her access to the stifled air around us. My hips buck forward, my hand working faster now as I chase the edge of my orgasm.
My words sound strangled when they leave my mouth.
“You want me to take you, don’t you? Want me to make you beg? Make you cry?” I do. God, I do.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, the hot water beating down on my back. I can see her kneeling in front of me, her eyes locked on mine, as she takes me into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip like she did against my hand, teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.
“Catarina.” Her name spills from my lips in a moan.
My hand moves faster, rougher, the pressure building with every stroke.
I’m so close, so fucking close, and she’s all I can see, all I can feel.
Every muscle in my body tenses, and my thighs tremble as my release spills against my hand, dripping to the shower floor.
My hand pumps over and over, drawing out every last bit of pleasure dripping out of me.
Even though my tip feels raw with sensitivity, I keep my strokes consistent until I’m empty.
The water starts to wash it away, but I can’t resist. I bring my fingers to my lips, parting them as I insert my pointer and middle, sucking them clean.
I look down, hoping the next time I’m covered in cum that it won’t be mine.
After showering and changing, I get all of my things together and make my way to the elevator knowing that Harold is probably already waiting on me.
I lean my head against the cold wall after I press F1, sending me down.
I know I won’t give them any information.
As far as I’m concerned, Rylan isn’t in Asheville anymore.
He should be allowed to keep his normalcy.
I don’t know him, and I don’t want to. The less I’m involved with anything Fenris has to do with, the better.
I spot Harold outside and step out from under the awning.
I feel the raindrops sinking into the fabric of my clothes as the drizzle makes its way down.
He unlocks the doors, and I lay my bag inside on the backseat before sliding the door and getting into the passenger side.
Harold pulls away without saying a word.
I lean my head against the headrest, letting my eyes close, and soak in my last little bit of peace before I’m back home, in hell.