Wallbanger(13)

back the covers, whipped open the door, and stalked out of my bedroom. Clive held out a paw and started to reproach me for shutting him out, but

when he saw my face, he wisely let me pass.

I stomped to my front door, my heels pounding into the hardwood floor. I was beyond angry. I was livid. I’d been so close. I opened my front

door with the strength of a thousand angry Os, denied release for centuries. I began to pound on his door. I pounded hard and long, like Clooney

had been about to pound into me. I banged again and again, never relenting, never letting up. I could hear feet slapping toward the door, but stil I

didn’t let up. The frustration of the day and the week and the months without an O unleashed itself in a tirade the likes of which no one had ever

seen.

I heard locks rattling and chains coming undone, but stil onward I banged. I began to yel . “Open this door, you asshole, or I wil come through

the wal !”

“Take it easy. Quit that banging,” I heard Simon say.

Then the door swung open, and I stared. There he was. Simon.

Silhouetted by soft light from behind, Simon stood with one hand grasping the door and the other hand holding a white sheet around his hips. I

looked him over from top to bottom, my hand stil hanging the air, clenched into a fist. It was pulsing, I’d been banging so hard.

He had jet black hair that stood straight up, likely from the Giggler’s hands buried in it as he plowed into her. His eyes were piercing blue, and

cheekbones just as strong as the jaw. Completing the package? Kiss-swol en lips, and what looked like about three days of scruff.

Jesus, there was scruff. How had I missed that this morning?

I gazed down his long, lean body. He was tan, but not a premeditated tan—outdoorsy tan, weathered tan, manly tan. His chest rose and fel as

he panted, his skin coated in a thin sheen of sex sweat. As my eyes traveled down further I saw a smattering of dark hair low on his torso, which led

below the sheet. Below the six pack. Below that V that some men have, and which on him didn’t look weird or BowFlexed.

He was stunning. Of course he was stunning. And why did there have to be scruff?

I inadvertently gasped as my gaze dropped lower than I had intended. But my eyes were drawn, as if by a magnet, lower and lower. Beneath

the sheet—which was already lower on his hips than should be legal—

He

Was

Stil

Hard.





Chapter Five


“OH, GOD.”

Thump.

“Oh, God.”

Thump thump.

I was traveling up the bed with the strength of his thrusts. He drove into me with unflinching force, giving me exactly what I could take, then

pushing me just past that edge. He stared down at me, hard, flashing a knowing smirk. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel how deeply I was being

affected. And by deep, I mean deep…

He grasped my hands and brought them above my head to the headboard.

“You’re gonna wanna hold on tight for this,” he whispered and threw one of my legs up over his shoulder as he altered the rhythm of his hips.

“Simon!” I shrieked, feeling my body begin to spasm. His eyes, those damnable blue eyes, bore into mine as I shook around him.

“Mmm, Simon!” I screamed again. And promptly woke up—with my arms over my head, hands tightly grasping the headboard.

I closed my eyes for a moment and forced my fingers to uncurl. When I looked again I could see dents in my hands from gripping so tightly.

I struggled to sit up. I was covered in sweat and panting. I was actual y panting. I found the sheets in a bal at the foot of the bed with Clive

buried underneath, just his nose peeking out.

“Oh, Clive, are you hiding?”

“Meow,” came the angry reply, and a tiny face fol owed the kitty nose.

“You can come out, sil y. Mommy’s done screaming. I think.” I chuckled, running a hand through my damp hair.

I had charmingly sweated through my pjs, so I got up to stand over the A/C vent, cooling off and beginning to calm down. “That was close, huh,

O?” I grimaced, pressing my legs together and feeling a not-unpleasant ache between my thighs.

Ever since the night Simon and I “met” in the hal way, I couldn’t stop dreaming about him. I didn’t want to, really didn’t want to, but my

unconscious mind had taken over and was having her way with him. Nocturnal y. My body and brain were separate on this one: Brain knew better,

Lower Caroline was not so sure…

Clive pushed past me and ran into the kitchen to do his little dance next to his bowl.

“Yah yah yah, settle down,” I croaked as he threaded himself in and out of my ankles. I dumped a scoop of kibble in his bowl and hit the coffee. I

settled against the counter and tried to col ect myself. I was still breathing a little hard.