His dick chose that moment to painfully throb as if it had a heartbeat. If it weren’t for the thick jeans, it would be pointing straight out. His balls began to ache and he groaned.
“Goddamn it,” he hissed between still-clenched teeth. “I’m going to die.” He nodded at his reflection. “I’m never going to survive having her under my roof, smelling her and wanting her.”
He kicked off his shoes, denting a cabinet in his haste to get the things off, and jerked open the front of his pants. He hadn’t bothered with underwear and his cock sprang free. It barely eased the pain as he shoved the material down his legs. He nearly tore off the glass shower door to get inside the stall. He turned on the cold water and it blasted his body, shocking chill taking his breath. He stood there, endured it, but it didn’t do a thing to his lower half.
“Fuck.”
He reached for the body wash, dumped a handful into his palm and leaned back against the wall. He fisted his shaft, turned his hips enough to avoid the water and squeezed his fingers around his swollen cock. His eyes closed as Charma’s image filled his head. He frantically moved his hand from the base of his dick to the head, applying enough pressure and pace to feel really good. He imagined he was inside her again.
He braced his legs, threw back his head and sealed his lips. He’d never forget how damn tight Charma had been, how wet and hot. Her muscles squeezed him better than his fist ever could. Then there were the sounds she always made when he fucked her hard and fast.
His Charma had always purred for him, urged him on, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips. She had a habit of raking her nails down his spine until she could grab his ass and pull his hips even tighter against her soft thighs. He’d feel her climax. She always screamed out his name, her pussy tightening around him as she trembled from her release. He groaned as he came. Streams of semen shot from the tip of his cock as pleasure gripped him. His hips bucked from the intensity and the pain disappeared.
He panted, opened his eyes and stared at the tile wall opposite him that he’d just decorated. His hand eased off his cock—it had barely softened—and he turned into the water to wash off the soap. He dunked his head, shook it, and reached for the body wash again.
Great. That will last me for a little while before it starts again. He scrubbed his body to wash away the dried sweat from fighting and reached up to grasp the removable showerhead. He rinsed away all traces that he’d jacked off inside the stall as he washed down the tile. He replaced the showerhead, turned off the water and pushed open the glass door.
“I’m going to be in here every half-hour, repeating this.” Disgust welled at his lack of control. He dried off, avoiding his cock, which still strained from the constant state of arousal he knew wouldn’t leave him until mating heat ended. All he could do was pray he’d find the strength to grab for soap instead of Charma.
He realized he hadn’t remembered to bring a change of clothes. He wrapped the towel around his waist and quickly exited the bathroom. If he hurried it would only take him a minute to slip down the hall, enter his room and get dressed before she finished her shower. The woman used to spend an eternity showering. He hoped that hadn’t changed.
The bedroom was empty when he stepped inside but he didn’t hear water running in the other room. He darted to his dresser, opened the lower drawer and chose a pair of sweatpants. The bathroom door opened behind him and he jerked upright, turning.
Charma had washed her hair. Pink skin shone from the warm water and she was wrapped in his favorite blue towel. The tops of her shoulders and her thighs were revealed. He knew she didn’t have anything on under it and his cock stiffened in response.
He wanted her so bad it was difficult to remain still. He struggled with his choices—lunge at her or flee the room. She was just too tempting, too sexy. Images of all the things he wanted to do to her filled his mind and kept him from returning to the bathroom down the hall.
She smiled and her gaze lowered to his towel. He couldn’t move, his legs seemingly rooted to the carpet. More blood flowed into the part of him that she stared at.
Yeah, she’s looking at you. She can’t miss seeing you when you’re pointing right at her and lifting the damn towel. He reached down, pushed his cock against his thigh and kept his palm over it. Ouch. I know you don’t want to bend but we don’t want to scare her either.
“You’re definitely bigger.”
“Oh hell. Pretend you don’t notice.”
Her gaze lifted as she stepped closer to him and his bed. “Why would I do that? Drop the towel. Let me see how much you’ve grown.”