No harm, no foul. Unfortunately.
I grab my phone from the nightstand. Almost eleven. Man, we’ve slept in. Good thing we don’t have a schedule. Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I gather my will before pushing myself to my feet. Mornings suck, my mouth tastes like cotton and I need a shower.
That, and my hardon’s refusing to die down.
I close the door to the bathroom quietly so I don’t wake her. A quick brushing of the teeth, one really awkward leak since I’m still hard as rock, and then into the shower. Fuck, I need one like this at home. It’s fucking huge, and the pressure’s the kind that peels the dirt right off your back. We’re fucking millionaires. Why do I have a crappy shower?
As soon as the hot water hits my back, I forget about it. The shower fills with steam and the hot water pounds down my back, relaxing every muscle in my body. Well, apart from one. Apparently my cock’s pissed I didn’t get my morning fix, and has decided it needs attention. Since the odds of getting Angie’s help in the immediate future are pretty fucking slim, I guess I’m fisting it. Not as much fun as with a little help, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
Immediately, my mind tries to imagine how this morning might’ve gone had Angie actually been interested. And naked. Definitely naked. The swell of her gorgeous tits is already burned into my mind from that first night. I only got a glimpse of her smooth pussy before she bailed on me, but that glimpse will stick with me for the rest of my life, along with the view of her rounded ass and the slope of her sexy back I left behind only minutes ago.
I close my eyes and remember the brief taste I had of her soft lips. Nice and plump, they’d look good wrapped around my cock, sliding up and down the length of it in time with my fist. The warm hollow of her mouth. The wet touch of her tongue along the underside. Oh, Jesus.
I stroke faster, my body tensing up as I approach the point of no return. Images of Angie on her knees in front of me and working me with that pouty little mouth flash over the backs of my eyelids. My calves tighten, bringing me up on my toes as I work myself harder and faster. I feel the boiling in my balls, and my cock swells in my hand. And that’s of course just the moment the door opens.
The point of no return flashes by, and my cock explodes, shooting thick streams against the glass shower door, one after another. Just on the other side, Angie’s wide eyes stare at me in shock, but there’s nothing I can do. I pulse over and over until just a dribble seeps out the end, the shower door between us plastered with translucent white trails.
Oh fuck me.
She’s frozen in place, but finally finds her voice. “Oh God, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t—I just needed a glass of water, and—I’ll close the door.” She slams it shut.
Yeah. So sorry. Awesome.
I hose down the door with the showerhead, rinse myself clean and shut the water off. I dry myself slowly, dreading going back out there. If my brain had been working enough, I should’ve invited her in to help clean up, but it’s too late for witty one liners. Like relations weren’t bad enough already, now there’s going to be an ice front worthy of the fucking Cold War.
Talk about something coming between us.
Maybe I should just go out there naked, it’s not like she hasn’t seen the whole show by now. That might shut her up. Except I just came, so I’m feeling good. Embarrassed, but good. Pulling my pajama pants on, I take a deep sigh before opening the door, prepared to face the music. I’m sure this will be awesome.
Angie’s in bed, rolled away from me, her shoulders shaking. Fuck, is she actually crying? What the hell am I supposed to say to that? “Listen. Angie. I’m sorry.” Why the fuck am I sorry? She’s the one who burst in on me.
Her shoulders heave. That seems over the top. Did I hit some sort of trigger or something?
“Gavin...” Her voice is strained.
Drawing a deep breath, I wait for it. She snorts. Hold on, is she—
That’s not fucking crying. “Angie...” I put all the menace I can into my tone and she loses it.
It explodes out of her, peals of laughter rushing out like a burst water main. I’d call it musical, but it’s so out of control and raw. It’d be fucking cute if it wasn’t at my expense. It’s so bad, she rolls over onto her back and beats the sheets with her fists and wheezes for air.
“Oh God.” She barely gets it out between breaths. “You should—you should see your face right now.”
For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t that funny. Can’t a guy have a little private time without it turning into comedy hour? “What, and you don’t take care of business, babe? Didn’t you hear the fucking shower?”