23. Griffin
GRIFFIN
When I got into the shower, I told myself all I’d do is wash off, but then my fucking brain decided to remind me of this morning, when I went into the storeroom for a box of gloves and got an eyeful of Ember stretching to reach something on an upper shelf.
The bottom of her shirt had come loose from where it had been tucked into her waistband, and I saw a few inches of bare skin there. Her calf muscles flexed as she extended onto her toes, and suddenly I was as horny as a fucking Victorian-era dude catching a glimpse of a forbidden ankle.
I got down the bag of cups she was reaching for, then I grabbed what I needed and rushed out, but that didn’t stop me from spending the next couple of hours thinking about what it felt like to bury myself inside her.
And that’s what has me wrapping my palm around my dick right now, in search of some relief. Rubbing one out isn’t nearly as satisfying as it used to be, but it’s a necessity these days, and if I did it as often as I had the urge, my wrist would be too goddamn sore to hold steady on the job.
Resting my head against the tile, I close my eyes and replay the moment that Ember spread her legs for me, then fast forward to when she came on my face, and again, when her pussy enveloped my cock like a goddamn glove.
Warm water sprays my back and streams down my chest as I try to imagine that it’s her hand choking my dick. I picture her on her knees, opening her mouth, stretching out her tongue, about to take me in, and my balls tighten, the tension peaks, and my mind goes blissfully blank for a few moments.
Those moments are frustratingly short.
Afterward, it’s just me and my waterlogged skin and softening dick. I twist the dial to cut off the shower and reach for my towel.
Shit. I’ve been so distracted lately that I’ve been forgetting things, and this time it was a fresh set of clothes to change into. I was just out for a late night run, and there’s no way I’m putting my sweaty shorts back on, so after I dry off, I wrap the towel around my waist, grab my pile of dirty clothes, and step into the hall.
Naturally, Ember comes out of her room before I can reach mine. “Oh! Griffin.” Her eyes are everywhere except my face, and when she almost drops the cup she’s holding, I can’t help but smile.
I haven’t felt much like teasing her lately, but this opportunity is too ripe. “Is your phone handy? Would you like to take a picture?” I strike a pose, flexing as many muscles as I can at one time.
She scowls at me, and I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed angry Ember—not real anger, of course, but the playful irritation that’s always been part of our dynamic.
I loosen my grip on the towel just enough to let it slip an inch, and she doesn’t miss it. Her eyes are darker when she lifts them to glare at me again.
“Why are you doing this?” She’s tortured, and I love it.
“Doing what?”
She lowers her voice to a hiss. “Showing off your body like this.”
I look down, as though I hadn’t noticed. “I was just in the shower, Ember. And now I’m walking to my room. I can’t help it if you interpret me going about my day as showing off.”
“Why don’t you have clothes on?”
“It’s not unusual for a man to have his shirt off. Is my bare chest bothering you?”
There’s still irritation in her eyes, but something else pushes to the forefront. Something raw and honest and tortured, that I understand on a deep level.
I should take mercy on her, but instead, I let the towel slip another inch. Nothing’s showing except a thin trail of hair and the v-cut of my abs, but Ember gasps.
When she looks up at me, I stare back, wanting her to see the same rawness in my eyes. We stay locked like that for several seconds, until I break our gaze with a grin. “Everything you see here is available, anytime you want more. Just say the word.”
She lets out a big huff of air, sounding like she’s just completed a full circuit at the gym. Just before she brushes past me, she shakes her head, as if to clear it. “You’re maddening, do you know that?”
I watch her walk away, trying and failing to block out a vivid image of what it would be like to take her from behind.
The next night, I leave the house to meet friends, and forget the book I promised I’d return to one of them. I’m only five minutes away from home when I remember, so I turn back.
Frank’s working on his latest sculpture in the garage, and inside, Zeb’s busy in the kitchen. The door to Ember’s room, which is at the end of the hall, next to mine, is closed.
In my bedroom, I cross to the shelf on the wall that separates my room from Ember’s. When I bend to retrieve the book, I hear a faint vibration. As I stop to listen, the noise continues, though the speed of the vibration varies as if it’s surging, slowing, then surging again.
It takes a few seconds before realization dawns, and my suspicions are confirmed when I hear a sigh on the other side of the wall.
I should give her privacy, but my dick turns into a devil on my shoulder, telling me it’s a good idea to press my ear against the wall. A gentle moan, the same kind that’s been haunting my dreams, is my reward.
Ember’s getting herself off, and my mind runs wild, filling in the visual details I’m missing.
She’s on her back, propped on pillows, knees spread. Is she under the covers, or—from the sound of things—uncovered and exposed?
Is she touching the toy to her clit, or sliding it in and out of her pussy and pretending it’s me?
As I listen and speculate, my cock prepares for action, ready to answer the call to duty on a moment’s notice. Ember shouldn’t have to make do with a silicone stand-in when I’m right here, hot-blooded and rock hard.
Just as I’m imagining what might happen if I were to slip inside her room and join her, she starts whimpering. Tiny, little moans, coming faster and faster, until she cries out, then goes silent.
I’m sweating as if I’m the one who just had an orgasm. Setting the book back on the shelf, I close my bedroom door, turn the lock, and take care of my raging erection.