I Just Want You(15)

But this . . . this is different.

I ache.

For her.

I slide my sweats down my hips and waste no time fisting my cock in quick, even strokes. Closing my eyes, the first thing I see is her. Berklee with her auburn hair flowing down her back in soft curls and that ass. In those pants.




 

 

I grow harder.

Pump faster.

I let myself get lost in the fantasy of her. My cock nestled between those tight cheeks, my hands in her hair. Grunting, I squeeze tighter as my release spills onto my stomach.

My phone rings and I jump. Surveying my current situation, I decide to let it go to voice mail. Standing from the couch, my sweats slide to my ankles and I kick them off. Picking them up, I wipe off my stomach and head to the shower, stopping on the way to throw my sweats and a few other items into the washer.

After a quick shower, I slide into another pair of sweats and resume my spot on the couch. I look at my beer that sits untouched and undoubtedly warm on the coffee table. Grabbing it, I take it to the kitchen and pour it down the sink, then grab another. My phone dings, reminding me I missed a call.

Grabbing it from the table, I see it was Zane. Swiping the screen, my phone dials him automatically.

"What's going on?" he says in greeting.

Thoughts of my little jack-off session along with the image of Berklee filter through my mind. "Just having a beer, watching last night's game." It's not a complete lie. "What you got going on tonight?"

"Nada. Barry called and wanted to know if I wanted to get a beer, thought I'd see if you wanted to go. You've been nothing but the club these last few months."

"Nah, I'm thinking it's a night-in kind of night."

"All right, man. Let me know if you change your mind."

"Later," I say, ending the call. Taking a big swig of my beer, I attempt to leave thoughts of the sexy Berklee alone and focus on the game once more.

Kicking back on the couch, I can feel exhaustion setting in. Closing my eyes, I fall asleep to visions of her.

A loud thud and pain in my side wake me up. Opening my eyes, I blink to focus and realize I'm on the floor of my living room. Reaching under me, I pull out the remote that is jammed into my side. I must have rolled over and fallen off the couch.

Stretching up to the table, I grab my phone and check the time. Two minutes until six. Time to get the day started. Pulling my tired ass off the floor, I pad to the kitchen to make coffee. Just as I'm about to hit Start on the coffee maker, I change my mind. With my sudden obsession with Coffee House, and the lovely Berklee, I've been consuming way more caffeine than what I need. I forgo drinking any here with plans to stop and pick up my usual. I'm asking for trouble and I know it, but that doesn't stop me.

I rush through getting ready and am out the door in forty minutes.

Parking outside the shop, I peek through the windows and see she's working today. I've been lucky that she's always here when I need my caffeine fix. 

Climbing out of the truck, I casually make my way inside. Berklee looks up at the sound of the door and gives me a warm smile.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I say. It's lame as hell, but this girl . . . last night . . . yeah, I'm not exactly on top of my game this morning. I think I should probably feel bad or embarrassed that I stroked my cock to images of her, but I can't find it in me to care. She's gorgeous, and all guys have stock in their spank banks, right?

She laughs. "Well, you've only got two more weeks of run-ins, and then you never have to see me again," she jokes.

I feel a tightness in my chest. "New job?" I manage to find my words.

"Yep." She grins. "It's been a long time coming. I'm excited to finally be using my degree."

She's happy, and that makes me happy for her, but sad for me. Shit! I don't even really know this girl. I've seen her a handful of times, talked to her just as many. My self-imposed dry spell is affecting more than just my orgasms.

"Congratulations," I say halfheartedly.

"Thanks." Her face lights up. "Your usual?"

"Yeah, thanks," I mumble. She turns to pour my coffee and I give myself a mental kick in the ass. It's not like I planned on asking her out. She's just a girl in the Coffee Shop who happens to be sexy as hell and gorgeous. Nothing to lose sleep over.

"Here you go." She hands me the cup and I quickly reach for it, letting our fingers graze. Her skin is so damn soft, same as before, but this time there's a current that races through me. It has to be a result of last night's extracurricular activities.

"Thank you," I say, handing her a five-dollar bill, and turn to leave. I need to get my head on straight.

"Bye," she calls out. I don't turn around, just wave and walk straight out the door. It's a dick move, but that's the reason I do it-my dick. I need to subtract him from the equation.