Page 154 of My Rules

Do I go upstairs, or do I sit here like a fucking dweeb and wait for her to come back down?

I should go upstairs; surely I should go upstairs.

Taking a shower is code for Come fuck me ... everyone knows that.

But does Rebecca?

It’s now becoming clearly apparent why I like bad girls. There are no mind games, no innuendos about what I should and should not be doing.

I know what to do. I know exactly what to fucking do.

Every damn time.

Before I can stop myself, I slowly go up the stairs, and as I walk down the hallway, I can hear the shower running in the bathroom.

I imagine Rebecca standing naked under the hot water. I get a vision of myself holding her up against the tiles, her legs around my waist.

My body buried deep inside hers.

She’d be wet and tight, and fuck me ... I feel my cock throb just thinking about it.

I put my hand on the bathroom doorknob to go in ... but then I hesitate.

I want to take it slow. Her words come back to me.

She always says that I push the boundaries and that I don’t listen to her. Perhaps this is one of those times that I really should use the brain in my head instead of the one in my dick.

Maybe it’s a test?

I imagine me opening the door and seeing her naked and then her going postal and screaming and shouting and ordering me out of the house ... I mean, it’s no secret that she can be overdramatic when she wants to be.

If I get this wrong, it could be catastrophic.

No, I can’t go in.

I sneak down the hallway, quietly tiptoe back down the stairs, and slink onto the couch; I lean back and rearrange the erection in my pants. I’m so hard, it’s becoming painful. Adrenaline is screaming through my veins.

This is an actual nightmare.

Fifteen minutes later, I hear the stairs creak and look up to see Rebecca walking down in a cream silk nightdress. It’s fitted with spaghetti straps, and I can see every curve on that sweet body. Her hair is wet, and she smells of soap and shampoo and every sin known to man.

I let out a low whistle as my eyes drop hungrily down her body.

Now we’re talking.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump . . . goes my cock.

I stand before I can stop myself, and as she gets to the bottom step, her eyes search mine.

“Wow,” I whisper. “You look ...” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Overdressed?” she whispers, as if worried.

“Perfect.” I readjust the spaghetti strap on her shoulder as she looks up at me. “Bec ...”

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