Turning the water on hot, I let it wash over me as I allow my mind to run free. God, I want her, and the more time I have with her, the harder it is to control myself. Having her stop me when all I wanted was to keep running my hand up her thigh. To know what she feels like. To let myself go with her.
I can’t hold back when I fist myself in my hand, imagining her soft skin against me. Fantasizing about having her naked in my bed and how she would look. My mind begins to lose itself in a myriad of thoughts when I finally zone in and see her so clearly.
She lies underneath me, running her hands along my chest, with a sated look on her face while I move inside of her.
The intense vision causes me to catch my breath, and I have to brace my hand on the tile wall, dropping my head.
Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me in deeper, gripping my hair in her hands. Her body is warm against mine while she moves with me. She’s into it, losing herself.
The hot water runs down my back, and my shoulders tense as I begin stroking myself faster.
I drag my tongue over her nipple and suck it into my mouth, making her breathe my name for more.
Tightening my grip, I work myself through my heady breaths.
Sitting back on my knees, she rocks her hips into me, bowing her back off the bed as I run my hands up her torso and between her br**sts. She’s completely exposed to me. Her naked flesh, smooth, damp with sweat.
My muscles tighten, and I feel myself swell as I’m about to go.
She’s moaning.
I’m panting.
Running my hands inside of her thighs, I slide my thumb over her wet core as she throws her head back into the pillow.
“Uhh, f**k,” I moan out when I finally feel the pulses of release I’ve been needing from the eagerness that’s been building up inside of me. I let it go as my head falls back while I ride out the images that are still reeling in my mind. The air is thick with steam, and when I’m able to stand without the support of the wall, I turn the heat down on the water to cool off before I get out.
After my shower, I get ready for bed and slide under the covers, replaying our evening together. Thinking about how she looked when I was photographing her. Realizing, that in her own way, she was finally opening herself up to me with her trust. It wasn’t obvious, but I saw it anyway.
I grab a pillow from her side of the bed, and smile at the thought that I’ve allowed a girl to claim a side of my bed. But I have and I like it. Rolling onto my side, I wrap my arm around her pillow and can smell her on the fabric. She smells so good; I know I’ll never grow tired of it, so I lie there as she finds a way to flood my mind again.
Fuck, I need another shower.
Chapter Twenty-five
Candace stopped by a few days ago to pick up the photo after I finished enhancing it. I think she was surprised to see herself like that. Even if it was just the sway of her back, the photo was beyond sensual. For some reason, she’s really uncomfortable with exposing herself. She’s confident in her body—it would be odd if she wasn’t, being a dancer and all—but being comfortable with herself in a sexual way doesn’t seem to come easily for her. It could just be that she’s never been that way with a man, but I see her starting to try with me.
The whole thing got me thinking about how I spend my time. Candace keeps herself busy with work and school, but mostly with dance. She loves it; it’s her passion in life, and I admire her focus. I don’t have a focus like that in my life, and although she takes it a step beyond most people, I feel like I need to find something outside of work and Candace to do with my time. I talked to her about this yesterday on the phone, and she encouraged me to spend more of my time working on my photography.
I’ve always enjoyed the editing aspect of it, but never took a whole lot of pleasure in the actual shoots until last weekend when she let me shoot her. She made me a very loose promise that she would let me photograph her again, and I plan on holding her to her word.
I hear my phone chime in the next room, and I’m surprised to see Gavin’s name when I open his text.
You at work?
Home. What’s up?
In the area. Mind if I stop by for a while?
Come on over.
After the random run-in that Candace and I had with him the other week, I didn’t think I would actually hear from him when he said he would be in touch. But when he gets here, he says he just wanted to stop by and catch up. So we crack open a couple of beers and flip on ESPN, hanging out like we used to do, simply killing time.
“So I ran into Max and his girlfriend the other night,” he tells me.
“Oh yeah, where at?”
“Lakeside,” he says and then takes a pull of his beer before adding, “Did you know she’s pregnant?”
“Yeah, man. I knew.”
Shaking his head, he says, “I couldn’t believe it when he told me that shit. We used to have so much fun before he got tied down with that chick. Speaking of chicks, who was that girl you were with the other day?”
Looking over at him, I don’t even know why I’m even gonna waste my time telling him, but I do. “We’ve been seeing each other.”
He gives me a smirk and says, “Nice, man,” mistaking my word seeing for hooking up with.
“No, I mean we’re together,” I clarify.
Giving his head a questioning tilt, he says, “She doesn’t seem your type.”
“She’s exactly my type.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, man. I’m sure about that,” I tell him, annoyed with his almost condescending tone.