Page 17 of Just a Little Crush
I wonder how things would be if I left. Where would I go? What would I do? Who would I meet? What amazing sexual adventures might I have?
Then I remember that I’d miss everything and everyone. A certain hot, ripped firefighter most of all.
10
Bec
IreallywishI’dtold Rennie to pack my vibrator. Why couldn’t I have bashed up my left wrist instead? It’s impossible to get off with this wrist guard on and, though I’ve certainly made a thorough effort with my other hand, the orgasm I desperately crave evades me.
Maybe I broke my vagina in the crash. Why didn’t I ask them to x-ray my vagina? That’s my best bit!
I’ve got proper FOMO tonight too, I’m supposed to be hosting our cheese and wine tasting right now. I trust Alyssa to handle it, but I get a social high from being around other people. These hours on Rennie’s sofa are blurring together and making me miserable.
Though that bath did me the world of good, I’m still achy. I hate being back in my neck brace, and it turns out that grumpy horny is the worst kind of horny.
When Rennie works day shifts he starts early and finishes late, and even though I could do with an early night, I’m holding out because I want to see him. Maybe a good look at him will give me the sexy ammo I need to get over the edge once I’m in bed. Though since that bed is in the room next to his, I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything without being heard.
He’s already caught me listening to smut. I would have to leave town if he caught me masturbating too.
Though imagine if he did. Imagine if he came home and heard me moaning. Imagine if he watched me through a gap in the door and I opened my eyes to see him getting off too and we both came at exactly the same time. Ooh, or imagine if he burst in and...
I push my left hand into my underwear and try again. I’m slick and close already, but it’s useless. Why couldn’t I have been born ambidextrous?
My heart leaps into my throat when I hear his key in the door. I yank my hand away, quickly adjusting my clothes and blankets.
“Hey Bec, you home?” he calls out and I roll my eyes.
“Don’t be a dick,” I shout back. “Where else am I gonna be?” He appears in the living room doorway and I watch him as he ducks into the kitchen with a bag full of groceries. The kitchen island connects the two spaces, and I have a good view of him unpacking.
“I wasn’t sure which flavour ice-cream you wanted, so I got three kinds.” He crouches to stash them in the freezer, then stands and turns to face me. “Wow, you look... better.”
“I think you mean I look clean. Alyssa had to bathe me.”
“Oh.” His eyes go wide and scrubs at his jawline. “I could have helped you with that.” The base of my neck heats at the thought of it.
“How was work?” I ask, shifting to sit up a little higher.
“Rough afternoon. We had a big fire up at the Hillman farm.”
“Oh shit, is everyone OK?”
“Yeah, but they lost a building and most of their hay supply.”
“That’s so awful. I’ll send them a gift basket from the shop.”
He sets his palms on the kitchen counter and leans into those gorgeous forearms, all thick and corded. I can’t help but picture myself between those arms, gripping onto them while he goes to town on me. My gaze drifts up to his biceps, those strong shoulders. I go to my happy place when I imagine licking his throat, kissing his jawline on my way to sinking my teeth into his full lower lip. I read once that the perfect shade of lipstick is one that matches the colour of your nipple and, having had a good look at my own, I now think they match his lips exactly. His lips. My nipples. Hot, wet, sharp teeth. Imagine. Imagine. Imagine.
I moan softly at the thought and then make the mistake of glancing upwards where I find his eyes boring into mine. I blink out of my smutty stupor and fumble for the remote amongst the blankets, somehow flinging it across the room. It crashes to the floor, the batteries bust free from their casing, and scattering across the room.
I move to get up from the sofa and fix it, but it’s awkward getting my ankle off the footstool and I end up slumping onto my side.
“No!” Rennie shouts, rounding the counter at lightning speed. “You stay right there.”
He rushes to kneel in front of me, lifting me with those big, warm hands until I’m back in a seated position. He cups the back of my leg, lifting it gently back onto the footstool, and the lightest sweep of his thumb has my leg twitching under his touch.
Perched on one knee, I have a sudden vision of him proposing to me. It makes my stomach turn somersaults.
“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he says, standing abruptly. He always showers at the station after his shift and then again when he gets home. He once told me the first gets rid of the dirt and grime, the second gets rid of that deeper layer of smoky musk, the smell that right now is filling my nostrils and driving me wild. I’ve always loved that smell on him.
