Page 333 of The Winslow Brothers

What in the holyfuckam I doing? And how the hell do I stop?

Rachel

I sink down in the tub until every part of my body but my nose and mouth are under water. I breathe in air and wallow in the feeling of drowning at the same time.

What in the hell is wrong with me? Why, when it comes to Ty Winslow, do I not know when to stop?

I mean, sure, I’ve always been a bit of a limit pusher or a ball buster or a stubborn biotch who has to cut her own path in life no matter how much easier the one already cut would be, but this is the kind of behavior that gets you a padded room and daily meetings. Nearly fucking the professor you’re TA’ing for when your very serious dad is the head of the department and specifically warned you against it? It’s damn near self-sabotage.

And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself. The push and the pull, the thickness of tension between us—they drive an ache between my legs that threatens to never end.

I push myself up and out of the water with a whoosh, slicking my hair back out of my eyes and blinking the droplets away.

Matilda sits on the bath rug next to the tub, staring at me with kitty judgment in her eyes. Apparently, even a cat can sensewhen a person is in the rock-bottom spiral of using no sense at all.

“I know, Matilda. I know,” I tell her, sinking back into the water until my chin rests at its surface. “But you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know how it’s been!” I argue with the silent feline, sealing my mental health diagnosis even further.

“He’s…he’s like a rash. You know you’re not supposed to scratch it, know it’ll probably leave you with all sorts of scars if you do. But it feels so good in the moment, you know? Just to get that little bit of relief to the unbelievable nagging itch.”

I shift in the water as the ache between my legs flares again. “Nagging, clawing, relentless itch,” I breathe, sliding my hand between my legs and just barely stroking myself. It feels good, so fucking good that I know the possibility of stopping my little trip to fantasy town zoomed by two train stops ago, but Matilda is still sitting at the side of the tub, watching me.

“I don’t need an audience for this,” I plead with her. “Trust me, my shame is potent enough without witnesses.”

She pauses briefly, before plopping down on the rug and lifting her leg to lick herself. Perhaps it’s a showing of solidarity, or perhaps she just likes the sandpapery tongue on her sensitive bits, but I decideto hell with it. If the cat wants to watch, she can. Considering just mere hours ago, I was flashing my underwear toward Ty in the middle of his lecture, it’ll be the least questionable thing I’ve done all day.

And that’s not even counting the whole, you-almost-fucked-him-in-his-office thing either.

It’s true. I was seconds away from telling Ty to take my panties off and slide inside me.

Visuals of his face, the way he looked the moment before he kissed me, start to fill my head. And then I’m remembering how it felt to have his hand up my skirt, his fingers touching me, sliding inside me.

A moan escapes my lips, and with one hand clenched around the rounded tub edge to stabilize myself, I put my fingers back to my clit and start to make them dance. I close my eyes and imagine this is the encore to Ty’s scant, brief touch. His hands, the warmth of his body, the feel of his lips at my throat—every detail from his office this afternoon consumes me.

“Oh God,” I moan again, my head falling back over the rim and my legs opening salaciously.So what if I’m throwing my life into a tailspin,my imagination screams.Have you seen the fucking ass on this guy?

No question, Ty Winslow is one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen walking this planet. His easy smile, his toned body, his unapologetic embrace of his personality. It’s all an incredible turn-on, and if he weren’t also the world’s most annoying human and my directboss, I probably would have already slept with him at this point.

There’s a reason he’s the guy I chose at Orchid. There’s a reason I let him play with my panties for a month without reporting him to HR. There’s a reason I’m here now, trying to rationalize masturbating to the thought of him.

And there’s a reason I feel like I could be on the brink of coming, just after a touch or two.

He’s the epitome of everything I could have built in a man if I’d picked out all his pieces in the MAN Store catalog.

I add a second finger to my stroking and circle them around my clit softly. I imagine, though, that Ty might be more aggressive—might shove two fingers inside me just to stuff me full. Eyes closed and lost in the fantasy, I do just that, gasping at the intrusion. It feels good—too good if you consider all the consequences.Dangerouslygood.

I shake my head to clear it because touching-yourself-in-the-tub time shouldn’t align with finding-your-moral-compass time. No, quite the opposite, in fact. The two shall never meet. I refuse to let that lesson onWuthering Heightsmess with my self-pleasure-focused head.

I glance over to Matilda’s spot briefly to find she’s moved on and left the room, and the last tension in my body finally leaves. I sink deeper, throw both of my ankles up and over the edges of the tub to give myself room to work, and put my fingers back to my sweet spot.

With just a little coaxing, I slide them both inside again and pump in and out. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, a low moan starting in the base of my throat and expanding through my entire chest.

I can picture Ty in this very tub with me, stooped between my legs, his jeans still on his body because he couldn’t even wait long enough to take them off before climbing in after me.

I reach out to brace myself as the water sloshes around me. My back arches, and my teeth dig into the flesh of my bottom lip. I hook my fingers to graze over my G-spot, knowing Ty wouldn’thave any trouble finding it. He’s been around the block a time or two, and he’d undoubtedly use that knowledge to impress me.

My tongue lashes out to lick my lips, and my eyes squeeze tighter as I tug at my own nipple with my free hand, imagining Ty’s lips sucking the pert tip into his mouth. I can see the visual perfectly, and the rosy flesh paired with my mauve nipples is a sight to see.Like it was meant to be.

The odd, uninvited thought elicits a brief opening of my eyes and a hiatus from my climb to the top of Pleasure Mountain, but I shake it off and get back to business before it can derail me too far.

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