Page 28 of Lust
I had taken my underwear off in sleep. My pussy was red and swollen like I had vigorously rubbed it throughout the night.
I closed my eyes, mortified.
Though I had never been with a man, this sight was far from unfamiliar. I had resorted to touching myself in my sleep in my insatiable craving for physical intimacy. Many a night, I had woken up with my hands between my thighs, furiously working myself to completion.
I groaned, convinced that I was the most sexual human being on earth. After turning fifteen, all I had thought about was sex and not in the typical teenage hormonal way. An overtly sexual ad on television had me running to my room to get myself off. And I had watched so much porn over the years that the images had been ingrained into my mind. Not just the run-of-the-mill porn either; it was dirty, humiliating porn that someone like me had no business watching.
That’s the reason God reprimanded me with this suitable punishment. When these urges first popped up, and I started noticing boys, that’s also when they started dropping like flies around me.
My lewd thoughts angered God, and anyone to touch me suffered the price. No one in this world believed me, so I stopped bothering to explain and instead stayed away from men.
Befitting, wasn’t it?
God had a great sense of humor because my punishment was custom-made. Not only would I never know the touch of a man, but I’d never have children or a family of my own either.
I was destined to walk this earth alone.
With another huff, I shook my head—enough of this pity party. I had a roof over my head while the families in the shelter were about to lose theirs. Instead of wallowing, I needed to head to the shelter. That’s why I became involved with charity work in the first place.
When people started getting hurt around me, I went to my pastor and disclosed my loitering suspicion about a curse. He didn’t believe me, of course. However, he advised giving back to the community if I was genuinely convinced of inflicting unintentional harm onto others.
Now that my first year of college was over, I could focus my undivided attention on the shelter. The demonstration from yesterday was great for media attention, but many families were soon to be upended. We had no idea where to move them and only had thirty days to evacuate. I had to utilize every one of those days productively.
Shoving my comforter to the side, I swung my legs to the floor, searching for my fluffy pink slippers. I had only just pulled on a pair of shorts and a crop top—both one size too small thanks to my idiotic brother—when the devil himself showed his face.
Tristan pulled open the sliding doors of the veranda entrance to my room and dwarfed it with his gigantic frame. There was such masculine energy about him that he never fit right in my room, where everything was pink, white, fluffy, and sparkly, with one too many pillows on the bed.
My overtly girlie room was the only thing to remain from my previous sunshine and unicorn life. That’s before I had turned into a recluse and shut myself away. On some level, I kept the theme of my childhood room because it irritated Tristan. The way his nose crinkled in disgust upon stepping inside fueled my fire.
However, he appeared far from annoyed this morning. In fact, Tristan looked rejuvenated, like he had the best night of his life. The jovial look gave him a boyish charm despite recently turning thirty.
His dark locks were sopping wet from a fresh shower. He appeared so at home in jeans and a heather gray t-shirt that my head felt dizzy. It’s like we were kids again and living under the same roof.
The thought saddened me because we’d never live together again. Siblings grew up and went their separate ways. Such was life.
“Any plans for the day?” he asked, looking me up and down. The words were innocent enough, yet his voice sounded… husky?
“Umm… yeah, the shelter,” I replied, distracted.
“Every pervert in a ten-mile radius will try to maul you if you go out dressed like that.” His eyes flared, glowing like gold in the light.
I blinked at his over-the-top reaction. “I wasn’t planning on it. And you’re the one who gave away my clothes,” I mumbled. “Now, everything is too tight.”
That broke the tension. His lips quirked wickedly, pleased with himself at the prank he had concocted. With his index finger, Tris tipped my face up. He was so damn tall that I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
“How about I come home again next weekend, and we can go shopping for new clothes? I'm pretty sure it won’t bode well for my campaign if I get into fights with a bunch of pervs for eye-fucking you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off with another peace offering.
“Oh, and before I forget. I thought of a way to keep your shelter open.”
“What?” Surprised by his offer, the hoodie I was toying with slipped from my hands and onto the floor.
With a heavy sigh, Tris bent his knee to pick it up. He seemed to rise at an exceedingly slow pace, and perhaps it was my imagination, but his eyes lingered on my bare legs, heat grazing the skin as he went.
I accepted the hoodie with hands that might have been slightly trembling.
“Steve will research the developers who purchased the shelter,” he continued mildly. “I’m sure he can find something to help our appeal with the DC zoning committee. If anything, I’m positive they’ll grant the shelter more time if we show due cause.”
