Page 38 of Paradox
But I’m not that lucky.
I’m never that lucky.
Ten days.
Ten fucking days.
Sometimes it feels like all I do is think about jerking off. And I shouldn’t have to worry about when or where I do it because I have a goddamn shadow following me around. I mean, fuck. If I’m on the roof fixing solar panels and the mood strikes, I should be able to whip it out, balls to the wilderness, and come wherever the hell I like. The only reason I’m up this early on a day where I can’t go anywhere is because my dick was so fucking hard I couldn’t get back to sleep. And with Jin there, with a free view right up to my bed, I had to deal with it in the shower.
He was totally passed out though. He didn’t even stir when I climbed down the stairs. He just laid there on his side, his lips slightly parted. I could have—
“The fuck?!” I curse aloud and shoot to my feet. The towel falls to the ground and I’m left standing naked with Jin less than ten yards away in the exact same predicament.
Except I bet his dick isn’t hard.
Or maybe it is.
Stop. Just fucking stop.I beat the side of my head with the heel of my palm and make a B-line for the kitchen.
Frigid lake water from the tank below the kitchen sink is pouring out of the faucet a second later, and I’m splashing it on my cock and balls. Except it isn’t enough.
Grabbing a mug from the drying rack, I fill it, and with my dick as far over the sink as I can get, I start pouring the water onto my stomach. Quickly emptying the mug, I curse a string of the worst profanities I can grab at, and grip onto the window sill in front of me for dear life.
Once I've caught my breath, I storm to the bathroom and pound on the door with my fist. “Get the fuck out, Jin!”
After drying myself, I ball up the towel and peg it at the wall. “Don’t put those disgusting sweats back on!” I yell out again, and climb the stairs to my loft.
I crawl over my bed and pull out two pairs of sweatpants, a flannel, and a long sleeved raglan from my chest of drawers, then take two pairs of socks from a basket beside it. Turning around to crawl back over to the stairs, I stomp my foot right above where I know the shower is with no intention other than to make the little shit think that I’ll beat his ass. “Hurry the fuck up!”
At the top of the stairs, I put on socks and pull on my black sweats. With my arms in the flannel, I throw the other clothes across the cabin and onto the couch.
I have half the buttons of the flannel done up when I reach the bottom of the stairs, and see Jin leaving the bathroom. He’s got his dirty clothes in one arm while he holds the towel securely around his waist with his other hand. It’s almost like a floor length skirt on him; his ankles only just showing as he gingerly walks across the floor boards towards me.
“Go put them in the hamper,” I say with a nod towards his arm, and he turns in that annoyingly silent way that boils my blood.
After returning from the bathroom, he pauses a few feet away and stares me dead in the eye before lowering his head like he’s ashamed of himself. “Do I have to wait till the snow stops before I get new clothes? Or do I have to get my ass back into the bathroom and wash everything in the hamper as a thank you for letting me sleep in here?”
Well, fuck.
That didn’t feel as good to hear him say as it should have.
“Well, yes. But—”
Like a trained dog, Jintae turns—still clinging tightly to the towel around his waist—and walks to the bathroom.
“Get back here.” My voice raises as I grab his elbow, and when his head whips around, drops of water fly off his hair and hit me in the face.
His already fair skin pales to an almost ghostly white as his eyes pan down to where I’m gripping his elbow before returning to my face.
One drop at a time, I clear them from my skin then lean down to wipe them on Jin’s towel.
He smells like my body wash and shampoo. Black pepper and sandalwood. It’s almost too masculine of a scent for someone as small as him. But then his arm tenses in my grip, and I feel more strength than would ever come from a woman his size.
I want to challenge it.
I throw his arm away. “You don’t need to wash them now. We’ve got all day, and… I’ve still got plenty of clean clothes,” I mumble out the last part as I turn and walk towards the couch.
With my back still to him, I hold out the clothes in his direction. I can hear his footsteps soften when he reaches the rug, and my fingers grip tighter onto the clothes the closer he gets. With his first attempt, he can’t tug them free, and I don’t know why the hell I can’t just let him take them.
