Page 37 of Mariposa
If she’s not my student anymore…
If she’s not with Adam anymore…
NO.
I palm the wall and shut my eyes tight, but she’s still in my fucking head.
“Fuck!” I growl as the sound of the water hitting my back and circling the drain floods my ears. I fist my cock and stroke manically. It hurts, desperate for release. I shiver as Violet creeps into my mind like the forbidden fruit that she is, taunting me like she did in the showers.
As my hand grips my dick, I picture her sweet, hot mouth wrapping her full pink lips around my length, sucking and lapping me with her tongue. My hands in her hair, pulling it like I would love to do, as I deep-throat her.
How would she look on her knees? Would her eyes water from the way she chokes on me? How would she look with my cum dripping down her face and chin? How would she look on all fours, turning her into my own personal cum-filled whore all fucking night if she let me?
How would my little mariposa like to be worshipped?
Fucking perfect is how she would look.
I stroke faster as I hold onto the tall, white, blank wall, close my eyes, and get lost in my desire.
The last time I fucked was too fucking long ago. I was on a year deployment, returned home, had fun with the usual hook-ups, and went back to work as a cadre.
It’s been eleven months since I first laid eyes on her and eleven months since I’ve felt myself burn for someone with just one fucking look.
I need to be inside her. I don’t just want a taste. I want to devour her until she forgets her own name and can only remember mine. Here I am, underneath my showerhead, coming undone, spurting cum, thick ropes shooting and disappearing into the drain, and I’m in hell, growling from pure fucking wrath. I want her in ways I shouldn’t.
“No, I can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
My climax slowly dies down as I remind myself of the boundaries I can’t cross. My relationship with my son is too important. I’m still trying to amend it and slowly make up for my mistakes. I can’t imagine a world where I’m inside her and carry on conversations with my son like all of this isn’t taboo. It’ll ruin him. I need to stay the fuck away from her.
I turn the shower off and wrap a towel around my waist. I dry my hair with another. I shut off all the lights and pull on my black Oakley boxers, ready to rack the hell out. Tomorrow is an early day. Everyone graduates, and I return to my team, taking on new missions because work never stops. I don’t remember the last time I took leave.
I should be celebrating this. I’ll be away from her. This is good. This is great. I saw her dream list, and nowhere did it say North Carolina.
My phone rings on my nightstand. Without a second thought, I reach for it and put it to my ear.
“Booker?”
“Hey, man…you disappeared tonight. Where the fuck did you go?”
“Uh…calling it an early night. Tomorrow is graduation.” I pace around the room, nervously. Even in the darkness, I know I fucked up. I’m just hoping he doesn’t call me out on my bullshit lie.
“You never pass up an opportunity to drink,” he says slowly, his tone shifting like he’s appalled.
“I know. Guess I’m getting old, huh?” I poke fun at myself.
“Guess so. Anyways, I wanted to check on you. I’m headed to sleep too…” he drawls a long yawn, forcing me to mimic it. “Why can’t I get a certain brown-eyed, long black haired, butterfly out of my head?”
Anger flickers inside me. Sitting down on my bed, I place my elbows on either side of my thighs and lean on them. Why is he talking about Isla?
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Come on, man. You know who I’m talking about. Violet…Isla.”
“Oh. That’s none of my fucking business, Booker.”
“Hey…you don’t need to remind me of the rules. I’ve never crossed any lines with her.”
Yeah, but I did…
