Chapter 13
6 Months After The Choosing
Imani
Now that Parker and I have finally admitted our feelings for each other, we are like little kids, just giddy around each other for no reason at all. Sneaking around, making out in closets and “accidentally” brushing up against each other when reaching for things. It’s out of control!
I’m constantly horny and trying not to act like it. Parker is having a harder time, even more so than me. It feels like his affection is a dam that’s breaking, everything flooding out at once, like he just can’t stop himself from touching me constantly now that we’ve decided to go for this. I’m floored.
We could have been like this the whole time?! What the hell were we doing?
Until we can come up with a workable plan to leave this place together, we are trying to be less obvious about our feelings for each other. In case this goes south somehow, or the government catches wind and steps in to force us apart.
We brush everyone’s comments about our accidental public flirtiness off with a, “Well, duh, we’re besties,” or a “We’ve always been like this. What are you talking about?” Some housemates are suspicious, for sure, and I’m having a hard time finding the will to care.
After a truly agonizing bit of teasing in plain sight, I retreat to his bunk to work off some sexual frustration. I don’t know what led me here, of all places, but it smells like him in here—so hot—and it’s the middle of the afternoon, so nobody’s around. I should have at least a tiny bit of privacy to get this out of my system.
Suddenly, the sheet concealing the bed from the rest of the room, hanging from the bunk above his, is swept away. Right as I am feeling an orgasm building, my hand firmly wedged down my pants, my face buried in his pillow. I quickly pull my hand away and retreat, covering my face at the sudden bright light streaming into the bunk.
“What the hell?!” I stammer, trying to get my bearings.
“What the hell yourself, Imani,” Parker breathes, leaning down and resting his palms on the mattress on either side of me. “Now, just what exactly did you think you were doing, masturbating in my bed, without me…?”
I swallow, blushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. This is probably really weird. I’ll go.” I shuffle to the edge of the bed and prepare to scurry away and pretend this never happened.
“That is not what I meant.” He stops me by placing his large body between me and an easy escape. “I find you in my bed, pleasuring yourself, and you think I want you to leave?” He raises his eyebrow, making eye contact and slowly dropping the sheet curtain behind him as he piles in on top of me. Pinning me in place.
“Oh. No?” I say, the heat quickly building between our bodies in the small space.
“No,” he agrees as he slowly peels off my top and then gets to work sliding off my pants. “I would much rather you let me take it from here.”
I fight the urge to cover myself. He’s still fully clothed, and the shame of him catching me is overwhelming, even with the heat in his eyes.
“Parks, you really don’t…” I trail off as he interrupts.
“I really do,” he insists. Kissing me gently and pulling me back to reality. Reminding me it is just us. I have no reason to be uncomfortable around him. He knows me better than anyone.
I relax into his touch, laying back on the pillow and letting him finish undressing me. He really takes his time with my bra and panties, letting the fabric drag across every sensitive part of me on the way to the floor. By the time I’m naked, I am breathing heavily again, fumbling at his clothing.
He shakes his head. “You first, dear.” And before I can even respond, he’s trailing kisses down my body and carefully avoiding all the spots where he knows I’m ticklish.
Damned adorable man. Of course, he would think of that. Why does that minor detail make this even hotter? That he knows my body so well without ever having seen me like this.
I arch up to meet his mouth as he moves lower, and he laughs, startling me. “Can you just let me lead for once, Imani?” he jokes, his broad shoulders shaking as he tries to contain his amusement.
“I was just helping!” I insist, smiling and trying to relax and let him spoil me, as he so obviously wants to.
“Do I look like I need help?” he teases, laving his tongue over my pubic mound, just far enough from my clit to drive me wild, but close enough to stoke my desire even higher.
“Nope, no, absolutely not,” I cry out, writhing under his attention.
“That’s what I thought. Now be good and let me take care of you. That orgasm you had going before I interrupted has got to be here somewhere in hiding, don’t you think?”
I groan at his ridiculous joke and his ridiculous timing.
Of course, this man can’t even be serious in bed.
“Parks, I swear if you don’t…” I choke abruptly as he circles my clit with his lips and sucks. Hard. I nearly come off the bed at the riot of sensations.
He releases me with a wet sounding pop, looks up and then says in a low, gravelly voice, “You were saying?”
“I don’t care what I was saying! Don’t stop!” I yelp, grabbing his head and pushing it back down. He snickers and goes back to working my clit with his full mouth.