Page 48 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
Today had been the worst day ever.
It’d started out as an eye-opener.
In the middle of the night, I’d awoken to Jessica making the scared moans in her room that she’d done every night since she’d moved in. I got out of bed in my boxer briefs to go calm her, but when I went to her door about to open it, I paused and listened. She wasn’t wailing in terror.
She was pleasuring herself.
Goddamn that was hot.
She was trying to be quiet, I could tell, but I overheard her whimper and make little whispery mewls to the thrum of a vibrator. Knowing I should leave, but unable to move, I loitered at her doorway, trying to be absolutely silent, completely absorbed. Fascinated.
My baby got herself off. So rad. Within no time I was aroused, my erection tenting my shorts.
What kind of pervert was I to stand outside her room while she brought herself to orgasm?
The kind who’d stay there and jack off, listening to her.
Under any other circumstances, if I heard a horny woman making those sounds, I’d want to throw her door open and be the one causing them. But with Jessica, I held back. She was special. I wanted her, but she was so skittish and unassertive that I had to go slowly, or I’d scare her off forever.
She deserved nothing less than to be treated like a queen.
But that didn’t stop me from getting off on her. I reached inside my briefs and held my hard dick. I spread my precum around the crown while I imagined her fingers in her wet pussy or rubbing herself with her vibe, and her other hand playing with her tits. Her voice, while still quiet, rose an octave higher, and she must’ve stuffed a pillow over her head to muffle it.
She was close. I started pounding my cock, faster and faster, while she brought herself to the edge.
My hand slid up my torso and pulled on my nipple piercings, one at a time, tugging them insistently as I squeezed my dick harder and stroked faster.
Fuck. Yes.
With an exhalation, she released, the sound a clear note that was so sexy I almost stumbled. I kept going, my hand beating a fast rhythm on my shaft, my mind a blur, lost in pleasure and so turned on that I had to fucking bite my arm as I came so I wouldn’t make a sound, milking myself into my open palm.
I let out my breath, teeth marks on my bicep, hoping that she hadn’t heard me invade her privacy. She was just too tempting. I couldn’t resist.
And I’d made a mess. I cleaned up with a sock in my room, went back to bed, and hoped she hadn’t heard me.
It all went downhill from there, though.
I didn’t see her at breakfast, because she left early for work.
When I arrived at the clinic, my first appointment was late. The second one refused to follow any of my advice.
But the third one? That was the worst.
Someone brought in a tiny Dalmatian puppy with big eyes and a collar so tight it had caused a wound because it was partially embedded in her neck. She was so weak, she couldn’t stand or walk normally, and so tiny and emaciated that she had visible bones. They’d found the dog abandoned in a neighbor’s yard.
Fuck.
“This is Dr. Michael Tate of the Pacifica Veterinary Clinic,” I said into the phone. “I need to report animal abuse.”
It had done nothing wrong except be associated with the wrong kind of people.
Kind of like my Jessica.
I needed to be patient with her.
As for the other stuff, I had to let out the tension I’d been feeling all day: the need to fix things at work, combat the stupidity of human behavior, and make my girl actually mine.
When the office closed, I changed into my parkour clothes—springy shoes and loose sweats, and hightailed it in my car to the skate park, where I knew the gang would be hanging out.
