16. Russ
CHAPTER 16
RUSS
I lean my forehead against the tile in my shower, slowly stroking my cock—one of the more masochistic decisions I’ve made in a bittersweet weekend of self-inflicted pain.
Without spelling out the specifics, I asked Shannon if I should get over her for the good of the team, and she happily agreed. Zero hesitation. There wasn’t an answer that would have made me happy, but having the woman I need to get over telling me that yes, I should definitely do that is more brutal than I imagined.
And still I’m hard.
Still I’m thinking about how it felt to have Shannon plastered against me in the water.
Focus on what you need right now.
At this exact moment, I need to know what her goosebumps taste like. What soft little sounds she might make if I chased her shivering reaction all the way down her torso.
I can still feel her in the circle of my arms, tensing muscle under soft flesh.
I can still see the lush bounce of her ass as she dives off the floating dock next door.
I want to chase her for hours.
I want to catch her and hike her up against my body, until her thighs wrap around my waist. I want to pull aside the tight little crotch of her swimsuit and stroke her pussy in the cold lake, and then stretch her out on the dock and feast between her legs until she’s warm and wet and ready to take the long, hard length of me inside her.
I spill a fast and guilty release down the drain, my chest heaving as her laugh echoes through my mind.
So I’m not getting over her today.
But that was the right idea, that is the right idea.
I lather up with body wash immediately, a desperate and vain attempt to move on from that choice.
At least we have skating this afternoon. That will be a distraction.
Whether it is a good or bad one remains to be seen.