Page 99 of Unleashed

“I need another shower.” I hurry so his cum doesn’t drip onto the carpet. I grab my underwear and another shirt from my drawer and run into the bathroom. So I’m not tempted to rub another one out with his genetic code, I grab wads of toilet paper to wipe it off my stomach and pussy. I then start the shower and wait for the water to heat as I pee. When I get into the hot shower, I cry again for reasons that are too fucked up.

Standing there, I hear a knock at the bathroom door before it opens. Greg walks in, and defying logic again, I cover my tits like he’s never seen, tasted, fucked, or kissed them. He tosses his shorts and underwear on the counter as he stops at the bubbled shower door. His warped image looms over me from the other side, and his voice is hollow. “I really need to piss. Sorry.”

I nod as he walks past the shower, and I resume washing at hyper-speed. When I dump shampoo on my head and scrub like a dog with fleas, the shower door opens, and he sticks his head inside. “Can I just get in there with you? I’m also sticky and to save water...” I glance at him as he watches suds run down my head and onto my body. Greg’s mouth falls open, and he gawks at my tits. He just sucked on one less than five minutes ago. What’s the big deal now?

With my fingers still digging into my hair, I step back and mumble, “Sure.” What the hell am I doing? The last time we showered together was in Durham, where he lost control, fucking my mouth. And this shower isn’t as large.

I bump against the cool wall to make as much room as possible. Greg slides the door open before taking up so much space. His thick cock bounces between his legs, looking spent. For now. Fuck me to France. I realize I’m staring, and I arch my back and tip my head into the shower spray. The water splashes onto my tits in my rush to be efficient before I realize I’m practically posing for a nudie magazine with his dick jerking back to life.

He squeezes next to me to wet his hair, but still stares at my nakedness as I grab the conditioner from the shelf. I work the cream through my hair. I conditioned earlier, but I’m torn between staying in the shower and running for my life. When Greg doesn’t progress much, I peek under my raised arm and ask, “What?”

His fingers drag over his jaw as he licks the water off his lips. “Uh, nothing.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re lying.”

I lean back to rinse out the conditioner, and Greg hisses, “Fuck.”

Stepping out of the water, I sigh. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

He frowns. “We’ve never... Not even in Durham... Christ Almighty. We didn’t fuck as often in such a short time. You’re wearing me out. Never.” He smirks, and I want to kiss his lips.

I sigh and look at the glass door as I say, “Maybe you’re getting more comfortable with sex since you’re having it with more women...” I close my eyes as water runs over my face.

“Comfortable. Are you serious? You saw me lose my damn mind when you surprised me.”

I wince and shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why, then.”

He snaps, “I do, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“And it’s nothing you’ll talk about?”

“No.”

“Awesome.” I exit the shower and dry in a flash, only toweling my hair. I’ll pay for that in the morning. In the mirror, I watch his hot, blurry, perfect body moving under the spraying water. There’s no way I can make it an entire week with him.

EXITING THE HOSPITAL, I’m relieved I only had to work my internship in the morning and don’t have to go into the office tonight. When I woke up earlier, Greg was asleep. I sat in bed and stared at him like a creeper. The sheet hung low on him, and memories of our sex linger with me.

I avoided my dad since I’m positive he would’ve lectured me.

Standing next to my car, I return a text to Sharla. Someone needs to tell her that weddings are a waste of time. I didn’t have one. Or a marriage. With the following message, I roll my eyes at Finn, telling me to get my ass to his house. Without Greg. We’re not a package deal. Sort of. Wait. We aren’t. I don’t even know my own lie anymore.

Arriving at Casa de Wilder, I check the makeup on my face and my bruised neck. Luckily, it’s low on my neck, so my shirt covers part of it. Finn will flip out if he notices the hickey. Greg knew what the hell he was doing. Good and bad.

I walk to the door, but before I knock, it swings open. “What took you so long?” Finn gripes with a frown. His gray T-shirt and blue jeans are his uniform when he’s not working or on the field bossing us around. Sometimes he’ll jazz it up and wear a different color shirt or one with his station’s name orThe Wild Sidebullshit. But at the field, he always wears a team T-shirt and hat. He’s a team player, that Coach Wilder. Gag.

I also notice he’s wearing his glasses. He must want to convince me he’s a serious nerd.

As I step onto the front stoop, my hands fly to my mouth, and I squeal, “Oh, my God! It’s Richmond’s famous Finn Wilder! Eeek! I can’t believe I’m at his house!” I fan my face with my hand. “Damn. You’re hotter in person. Are you single? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your abs?”

I pinch his T-shirt and lean toward him, giggling. I smell his Hugo Boss because he must wear it like a weirdo at home.

Finn shoves me. “No, to all the above. Get off me, and shut the hell up. I don’t need the neighborhood to hear you.” He looks past me to where no one cares.

I roll my eyes and lean against the doorjamb. “You have four neighbors. And not all the Richmond Metro viewing area likes you, in case that’s news. Shit. Your family barely likes you. Get over yourself, dude.”

I reach up and scrape my hand through his light brown hair, which looks more blond in the light. I then clutch his wrist and point at his badass black wedding ring. “Oh, my God! You’re married? Jesus Christ! You’re breaking hearts all over Richmond!”

He jerks his arm out of my hand, trying not to laugh deep down. “Watch your fucking mouth, Simone. Try not to be annoying for an hour.”

---