Page 12 of The Four Leaf

It isn’t enough.

Nothing is enough anymore. I need a release. A moment of peace. Even if just for a second.Fuck.

With a fleeting admission, I give in to the blood soaring through my body and drop one hand to the base of my cock and lift the other to grab the top of the shower door. It’s hard, pulsing angrily under my fingertips from the multiple times I’ve put myself in teasing situations with Sam today.

Starting slowly, I move my hand up and down, closing my eyes against the instant pleasure. Visions of Sam’s long brown hair appear–it’s whipping in the wind as she runs through the woods, her feet moving her in and out of the cluster of trees.

The beast in my chest rears its head, spiking my adrenaline so high I feel my pulse in the tips of my ears. My hand moves faster as I envision closing the space between us.

She’s easy to catch, and even easier to subdue. I have her on the soft forest floor in seconds, her clothes ripped from her body in another. I plan to take my time and worship every inch of her. Because in reality, I wouldn’t be sweet and slow. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

I would fucking devour her.

“Samantha.” Her name is a hiss through clenched teeth, the warm euphoric ball winding tight in my spine as I move my mouth down her stomach.

Her mouth parts while soft whimpers escape into the night air. Only the faint noisessound too clear. Too real.

I peel my eyes open to mere slits, and the visual that replaces my fantasy is surreal. Sam is standing at the door, her head leaning against the frame, her knuckles white from clenching the handle so tightly.

She’s not moving but standing still as though she isn’t sure if she heard what she thought she did.

My insides begin humming as I consider testing the limit. To see what she’ll do when she knows without a shadow of a doubt I said it.

“Samantha.” It’s a husky whisper, but I know she hears me.

Her hand drops from the knob, and slowly, oh so fucking slowly, she turns. Her eyes trail from the ground and across the floor until they move up my frame and stop on my lowered gaze. Steam has filled the small room, clouding the shower now, but I know she can make out where my hand is, how fast it’s moving.

Sam’s mouth parts, her lashes fluttering when we make eye contact. From here, I can see her jaw clamp down the moment the want hits her.

She only lasts a second longer before her eyes squeeze shut and she bites down on her lip so hard, I’m sure she’s drawn blood. Rotating back around, she grabs onto the door handle but doesn’t move to leave, just simply stands. Like she’s waiting.

Oh, Bambi.

Lightning begins to unfurl in my back, the electricity burning through my limbs as my orgasm comes.It barrels through me, and I have to bite into my raised arm to dull the roar vibrating my chest into a muffled growl.

By the time my eyes find Sam, her forehead is pressed against the door, her thighs pressed together. It winds me up all over again, and in a split second, I make the decision.

Fuck waiting.

I push the glass open and grab my towel, but in the next blink, the front door to the room is open and Samantha is stumbling over herself, a whispered, “Sorry” floating behind her.

“Ineed a drink. Strong, please.”

I nearly hurl myself onto the only empty barstool next to Tommy. The bar has begun to fill up again, but with the nighttime parade, it’s still a manageable crowd.

He and my sister exchange a quizzical look before Willow finally drops a shot glass in front of me. “So, I’m guessing the talk didn’t go so well?”

The guilt in her voice is so thick I almost want to lie and bask in the rarity of it. But the confusion and shock whirling around in my system are already more than I can handle.

She overpours her hand as she gapes at me, causing some of the liquor to seep over the side. I snatch the shot and down it quickly, relishing the burn as it radiates down my esophagus, burning away any words I had to explain what the fuck just happened.

The glass bounces as I slam it back down and nod my head for a refill. “Did you know a Shamrock is a three-leaf clover and was once called a ‘seamroy’? It was a sacred plant that was a visual–”

“Representation of the Holy Trinity. Yeah, we know.” My sister fills the shot glass again, before leaning across the counter. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head so fast, little spots decorate my vision. “What about that the first-ever St. Patrick's Day parade held in America was right here in Boston?”

This time, Tommy nods and lifts his beer mug. “In 1737.”

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