I’ve done a million times since seeing Natalie again, but it’s far more intense today, far more imminent. I step in the shower and grip my cock. I let my hand rest there for just a moment, letting my thoughts drift off to Nat. The closeness of her body—her softness and her curves—it felt so real today. Despite all my planning and saving money and hard-won sobriety, I still can’t see myself as someone different, someone who Nat would actually want, for real. I can see her fucking me once, getting it out of her system, and then moving on with her life.
My mind settles on Nat, just Nat. Her blond hair wavy over her shoulders. Her plump, swollen bottom lip. She looked like she was up to no good after I kissed her. I think of what that curvy body would look like if I stripped her of her scrubs, if she’d look just as good without her rumpled loungewear as she does in it.
“Better,” I say, groaning. I stroke faster, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip of my cock. “Fuck, Natalie.”
I think of kneeling between her legs, of making that stressed out look on her face disappear as she comes hard for me, on my tongue, her sweet taste all over my lips. I stroke faster, the images disjointed and blurring together in my mind. I think about what would have happened that night three years ago, if I’d come back, if she’d let me stay. In my mind, I take her and own her on that couch she’s got me sleeping on. I put her ass in the air and rest my cock against her entrance, make her beg for me to fuck her, make her beg for my cum inside of her. I think of her ass rocking against me, her pussy throbbing against my cock. I’m almost certain she’d be a freak in bed, that she’d end up wanting it all the damn time, that she’d lust after the taste of my cock, the feeling of me buried inside her. I stroke faster, holding onto that image of thrusting inside of her for the first time, grabbing onto her luscious hips and fucking her until she can’t remember her own name. The thought sends me over the edge, and I come, harder than I have in a long fucking time.
I stand there for a moment afterwards, the aftershocks of pleasure running through my body. I wash, nearly falling once. I close my eyes as the water washes the soap away, washes my slate clean. There might not be a chance for me with this woman, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least fucking try. I stop the shower and dry off, hanging the towel around my waist.
After I pull on a fresh pair of boxers and my shorts, I keep checking my phone, ignoring the twelve text messages from Frank. He wants me to train, wants me to fight, wants me to make weight by next week for a battle with a new kid. For the first time since everything has started to come together for me, I don’t respond to Frank, don’t try to move everything forward. All I’m worried about right now is sitting still, waiting for Natalie. After a while, I doze off, and when Natalie finally appears, it’s like she’s coming out of a dream, my dream. She’s got that baggy shirt and leggings on again, and I wonder if she changed at the hospital. She sits down next to me and puts her hand on my arm.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey yourself.” I sit up and wipe the sleep away from my eyes. Natty is tired, the way she looked after I first showed up at the house—and about a thousand times since them. It occurs to me that I’m the reason she’s so fucking tired this week, but fuck it, I have limited chances before Frank or Ash pushes me to start training. “Natalie, about this morning—”
“Yeah, you really need to work on your balance or you’re going to get clobbered in the ring. Or the cage, or whatever.” She smiles, but I see concern in her face too, and it’s probably not due to my lack of balance this morning. “But about the other thing—”
“The kiss? There’s more where that came from.” I grin. She raises her hand to stop me, purses her lips in
My mind settles on Nat, just Nat. Her blond hair wavy over her shoulders. Her plump, swollen bottom lip. She looked like she was up to no good after I kissed her. I think of what that curvy body would look like if I stripped her of her scrubs, if she’d look just as good without her rumpled loungewear as she does in it.
“Better,” I say, groaning. I stroke faster, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip of my cock. “Fuck, Natalie.”
I think of kneeling between her legs, of making that stressed out look on her face disappear as she comes hard for me, on my tongue, her sweet taste all over my lips. I stroke faster, the images disjointed and blurring together in my mind. I think about what would have happened that night three years ago, if I’d come back, if she’d let me stay. In my mind, I take her and own her on that couch she’s got me sleeping on. I put her ass in the air and rest my cock against her entrance, make her beg for me to fuck her, make her beg for my cum inside of her. I think of her ass rocking against me, her pussy throbbing against my cock. I’m almost certain she’d be a freak in bed, that she’d end up wanting it all the damn time, that she’d lust after the taste of my cock, the feeling of me buried inside her. I stroke faster, holding onto that image of thrusting inside of her for the first time, grabbing onto her luscious hips and fucking her until she can’t remember her own name. The thought sends me over the edge, and I come, harder than I have in a long fucking time.
I stand there for a moment afterwards, the aftershocks of pleasure running through my body. I wash, nearly falling once. I close my eyes as the water washes the soap away, washes my slate clean. There might not be a chance for me with this woman, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least fucking try. I stop the shower and dry off, hanging the towel around my waist.
After I pull on a fresh pair of boxers and my shorts, I keep checking my phone, ignoring the twelve text messages from Frank. He wants me to train, wants me to fight, wants me to make weight by next week for a battle with a new kid. For the first time since everything has started to come together for me, I don’t respond to Frank, don’t try to move everything forward. All I’m worried about right now is sitting still, waiting for Natalie. After a while, I doze off, and when Natalie finally appears, it’s like she’s coming out of a dream, my dream. She’s got that baggy shirt and leggings on again, and I wonder if she changed at the hospital. She sits down next to me and puts her hand on my arm.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey yourself.” I sit up and wipe the sleep away from my eyes. Natty is tired, the way she looked after I first showed up at the house—and about a thousand times since them. It occurs to me that I’m the reason she’s so fucking tired this week, but fuck it, I have limited chances before Frank or Ash pushes me to start training. “Natalie, about this morning—”
“Yeah, you really need to work on your balance or you’re going to get clobbered in the ring. Or the cage, or whatever.” She smiles, but I see concern in her face too, and it’s probably not due to my lack of balance this morning. “But about the other thing—”
“The kiss? There’s more where that came from.” I grin. She raises her hand to stop me, purses her lips in
Similar Books
