Chapter 26 Crystal
Crystal
Had I fucked him?
That lazy morning last week, while under the magical spell of Tylenol PM and listening to Neville doing his push-ups, I found myself touching myself.
Stroking my clitoris with one hand and rolling my nipples between my fingers with the other.
I was fantasizing about Neville, imagining his strong muscled body on top of me, his soft lips pressed against mine, and before I knew it I was swallowing a scream as my body shook with a thunderous orgasm!
I lay there, breathless, my body begging for more and cussing me for having slapped his hand away earlier.
I needed to be touched, caressed; shit, I needed to be fucked in the worst kind of way, so I jumped out of the bed and went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, ran my fingers through my hair, smeared some scented oil over my body and marched out into the hallway.
I was about to go toward the guest bedroom when I saw that the television was on in the living room.
“Hey,” I said softly as I approached the back of the sofa. Neville was stretched out there, watching Nickelodeon.
“Did I wake you?” he said, turning apologetic eyes on me.
“No, no, just came out to make some tea,” I said, and started toward the kitchen. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, and sat up. “But you’re the patient, let me handle it.”
He was shirtless again, dressed only in a pajama bottom, and as I watched him approach, I could swear to God he didn’t have briefs on. That big ol’ dick of his was just a-swinging!
He put the kettle on the stove and turned the flame on beneath it. Me, I sat down in the chair.
“So how are you feeling?” he said, his eyes full of concern.
“Oh, still a little sore, but I’ll be okay.”
“Hmm,” he said, and looked up at the ceiling.
I saw that I was going to have to force his hand. “I think I cleaned up the wound on my hip pretty well, but I’m not quite sure. Can you look for me?”
A quick look of surprise spread across Neville’s face. “O-okay,” he said as I rose from my chair and hiked my slinky nightgown up and over my waist. I was wearing a pair of black silk French-cut panties. “Can you see it?” I asked.
Neville hadn’t moved from his place near the stove. “Well, can you?” I pressed, eager to have more than his eyes on me.
“Um, yeah,” he said as he stepped closer.
“It looks like you cleaned it up fine,” he added as his fingers came to rest on the side of my exposed thigh.
I shuddered a bit; his fingers seemed to be shooting electric bolts.
He was on his knees now, his face close to the bruise on my hip, his fingers were kneading my flesh, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.
My eyes fluttered and I felt myself begin to swoon. Could a woman want a man more than this?
Just his breath against my skin was sending me into a sexual frenzy, and just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he stood up, patted me on the head, and said, “Looks like it’s healing just fine.”
Gee, thanks!
“You think so?” I said with as much coyness as I could muster.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll go out later and get you some aloe vera, so you can smear the jelly of the plant on the bruise. That’ll ensure that you won’t scar.”
“Oh, okay,” I said as he turned to leave. “Thanks for looking at it for me.”
“No problem,” he threw over his shoulder as he left. I heard the kettle on the stove start to whistle as he went.
Had I fucked him? Well, no, I hadn’t, but I sure as shit wanted to!