Chauncey
Iwant Rhy badly…but I’m gonna respect her pace. That’s where we are now. I respect how she’s moving—even if it takes me a minute to get back in her good graces. I earned that.
I stepped into the shower to reset, letting the water hit my shoulders and cool me off. My head dropped under the jets—then I heard the glass door slide open, and my stomach tightened.
I turned my head slightly.
Rhy stepped in… naked as the day she was born. Yeah… she’s testing me, and I knew it.
I swallowed, forcing myself to stay where I was, even though every instinct said move.
“You don’t mind if I cut in really quick?” she asked.
A quiet laugh slipped out, but it sounded tighter than I meant it to.
“I don’t,” I said, eyes dragging over her before I checked myself. “But I feel like you’re trying me, and I’m trying not to fold.”
“I’m not.”
“So, you couldn’t wait till I got out… or use the guest bathroom?”
“Nope.” She shrugged, reaching for her body wash. “And I don’t feel like walking down there.”
“Aiight,” I said, taking a seat on the bench. “Do your thing.”
But my eyes didn’t cooperate, and that annoyed me.
Her movements… the water sliding over her skin… all of it had me tight as hell, and I hated how much it showed.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, jaw set.
Her mouth says one thing…but her body? Yeah… that was a whole different conversation, and it was hard not to answer it.
And I was trying really hard not to answer it, even though every part of me wanted to.
I want Rhy badly…but I’m gonna respect her pace.
That’s where we are now.
It took everything in me not to lose control in that shower.
Restraint a motherfucker… but I’m proud of myself for holding it down.
I wanted her—bad—but I meant what I said. I’m not crossing that line unless she invites me there.
I respect how she’s moving—even if it takes me a minute to get back in her good graces. I earned that.
I stepped into the shower to reset, letting the water hit my shoulders as I tried to cool off. My head dropped under the jets?—
Then I heard the glass door slide open.
I turned my head slightly.
Rhy stepped in… naked as the day she was born.
Yeah… she is testing me.
I swallowed, forcing myself to stay where I was.
“You don’t mind if I cut in really quick?” she asked.
A quiet laugh slipped out.
“I don’t,” I said, eyes dragging over her before I checked myself. “But I feel like you’re trying me.”
“I’m not.”
“So, you couldn’t wait till I got out… or use the guest bathroom?”
“Nope.” She shrugged, reaching for her body wash. “And I feel like walking down there.”
“Aiight,” I said, taking a seat on the bench, giving her space. “Do your thing.”
But my eyes didn’t cooperate. I couldn’t help but stroke my dick back and forth.
Her movements… the water sliding over her skin… all of it had me tight as hell.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, jaw set.
Her mouth says one thing…but her body?
Yeah… that was a whole different conversation.
And I was trying really hard not to answer it.
Rhy glanced over her shoulder, that smile on her face giving her away.
Yeah… she was fucking with me.
She dropped the soap, bending down just enough to make it really hard for me to keep my focus where it needed to be.
I clenched my jaw, looking away for a second, trying to get a grip.
“I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” she said, her voice light. “My bad… I’m finna get out.”
I let out a low breath, shaking my head.
“Yeah, okay…” I muttered. “No rush. Take your time.”
She knew exactly what she was doing.
And I wasn’t about to play myself.
I pushed up from the bench, stepping out from under the water before I lost whatever restraint I had left.
I dried off, pulled on sweats and a wife-beater. My phone buzzed—the chef said she’d be here in about twenty.
Good.
I needed the distraction—something close to it, anyway—and I didn’t trust how much I needed it.
A few minutes later, Rhy stepped into the room, fresh out of the shower, laughing before she said anything.
“Why did you run out of the shower like that?”
I shook my head and grabbed a towel.
“You know why. Don’t act.”
“I don’t,” she said, smiling.
“Keep pretending.”
She walked closer, tilting her head.
“Tell me.”
I looked at her, then exhaled.
“I left before I forgot what we just talked about.”
That made her laugh—but I wasn’t laughing, and that was the problem.
She stepped closer, her tone softer now.
“I’m sorry… it won’t happen again,” she said. Then, quieter, “But if it does… that just means I’m ready.” I wanted to believe her, but the words still landed the wrong way.
My eyes met hers.
“I’ll let you know.” I closed the gap, easing her back against the dresser until there was nowhere left to go.
I stood over her, close enough to feel her breath, then dipped my head to her neck—just a second—breathing her in like I needed it.
I should’ve kept my distance, but I didn’t move when I knew I should.
“Yeah…” I murmured. “You let me know when you’re ready.”
I didn’t wait for a response.
I stepped back, gave her space on purpose, and turned toward the door, keeping distance to stay steady. Even then, it didn’t feel steady at all.
Downstairs, the house felt different—quieter, steadier—as I went to meet the chef.