Page 14 of Faking It with the Enforcer

She swallows thickly and then nods. “Thanks, Wolf,” she says softly. “This is really nice.”

I shrug, warmth spreading across my chest at her gratitude. It makes me want to give her the world on a platter.

I am in so much trouble with this girl. Who is nine-fucking-teen. Who is Mike’s little sister. Who lives in another province.

Before I can do or say anything stupid, I nod once more and then leave the room, striding into the kitchen and pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. I’m not even thirsty, but I drain it in one go, just to give my body something else to do, something else to focus on other than the fact that Emily is naked in my shower. I can hear the patter of the water from the kitchen, the soft hum of the fan.

I try not to think about the water running down her naked body in rivulets. I try not to think about the way a soapy washcloth might glide over her freckled skin.

I fail. Miserably.

I open the fridge again, hunting for another distraction, when I hear the soft sound of a phone ringing.Myphone ringing.

Fuck. I left it on my bed.

The ringing stops, then starts again, and I head back in the direction of my bedroom. As quietly as possible, I open the door and make a beeline for the bed, stopping in my tracks when I see that the door to the adjoining bathroom is ajar, and through those inches, I have a direct line of sight to Emily in my shower.

I freeze, my phone completely forgotten as my eyes lock onto Emily’s body. There’s some steam fogging up the glass, but not enough that I can’t see her. She’s facing away from me, her body a silhouette of lean muscles and smooth curves. Water cascades down her back, rivulets tracing the line of her spine, dripping down her impossibly toned ass. I know I should look away. I should leave the room. But my feet have grown roots, planting me in place as I stare and stare and stare. I can’t stop staring.

I don’t want to stop staring.

She shifts, turning slightly, and I see that she’s holding the detachable shower head. She adjusts the settings, her other hand braced against the wall, delicate fingers splayed on the tile.

I’ve never considered myself much of a voyeur. Until now, anyway. Because sick bastard that I am, I’m rapt as I watch Emily.

She tilts her head up to the rainfall shower head, water streaming down her face, darkening her hair from fiery red to light brown. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted, and I can see her small breasts rising and falling with each breath. They’re tinyand beautiful and perfect, topped with sweet little light brown nipples.

I watch as she widens her stance and brings the shower head between her thighs.

“Yes,” she sighs, working the spray over her pussy in slow circles. She tilts her hips and then moves the shower head, angling it so that it’s right over her clit. She whimpers and gasps, hips jerking slightly. Her body is taut, her muscles straining as she gets herself off.

I can’t look away. I’m a fucking pervert, watching her, but I can’t stop. She lets out a low, throaty moan that makes my cock pulse in my jeans. I’m so fucking hard it hurts. With a low growl, I palm myself over my jeans, slowly rubbing my aching dick. I’m leaking like a faucet into my boxers.

She leans back against the tiles and uses her free hand to spread her pussy lips open, washing herself with a delicious thoroughness. Her hips are moving in a slow, grinding motion, her soft moans getting louder and louder. I feel every single one of those moans in my cock.

I wish it was my hand there, my fingers massaging her needy little clit, my touch making her gasp and moan and writhe. I stroke myself over top of my jeans, working my cock with my open palm. My balls pulse and draw up, and I might fucking come in my pants. I don’t care if I do.

“Oh, god, Wolf,” Emily moans, and everything inside me goes completely still for a moment before exploding into a riot of light.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did she just say my name? She couldn’t have. I’m so turned on that I’m hallucinating. Imagining things that couldn’t possibly be real.

“Yes, Wolf. Oh, yes,” she moans again, and this time, I know what I heard. There’s no mistaking that Emily just moanedmyname while getting herself off.

My cock throbs angrily, impatiently beneath my palm as hope and disbelief battle it out inside me.

Emily is thinking of me as she works her clit with the shower head’s warm spray. Me.

“Fuck,” I grit out, one arm braced on the wall, the other rubbing my straining dick through my jeans. My skin feels hot and tight, my cock pulsing almost painfully with every stroke of my palm. There’s a visible wet spot on my jeans from how much pre-cum I’m leaking into my pants. I should be embarrassed. Ashamed. But I’m not. I don’t give a fuck. I can’t stop. Not when Emily is naked and moaningmyname.

Emily’s body starts to tremble, and I know she’s going to come soon. Her hips buck, and I can hear her ragged pants as she holds the shower head steady, the water pummeling her clit. Her skin is pink, her body one long, taut, graceful line of tension.

“Wolf,” she moans again. “Want you so much. Yes, Wolf.”

I’m wrecked. Ruined. Completely done for. I rub my palm harder and faster over my cock, the friction almost painful. Tingling heat races down my spine in warning. My balls draw up tight, my body tensing as I watch Emily come with my name on her lips. Her mouth hangs open as her body goes rigid, her eyes squeezed shut.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire goddamn life.

The sight of Emily coming and knowing that thinking of me is what got her there is what pushes me over the edge, and I start to come with a low groan. My cock pulses, over and over, as I spurt into my pants like a fucking teenager, pleasure locking my muscles in place. I can feel the wet heat of my cum soaking into my underwear, my jeans, running down my cock. My body jerks with each pulse, and I keep stroking, rubbing, drawing it out until I’m completely spent.

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