Page 108 of Green Flag
Each night, he’d applied my steroid cream and I’d had to almost tear the flesh of my palms off with my nails to stop myself from climbing him.
I showered and washed my hair, trying to distract myself by singing into the shower head like a microphone, but it wasn’t enough.
And when I came out of the en-suite and remembered I’d packed all of my clothes into my suitcase last night… I grabbed Luca’s top off the side and all was lost.
I wasn’t going to see him, smell him, or hear him for two weeks.
My poor family; I was going to be insufferable without my Luca fix.
Because I loved being around him. The nights were now my favourite time of day. We would FaceTime Fia and then get in bed and talk about nothing and everything at once. I wanted to see everything through Luca’s eyes. I might disagree with him sometimes, but his perspective on life was so refreshing. I loved his existence. It complemented mine.
At the same time, guilt crept into my bones. I wasn’t sure if I added much to his. I was trying to be a good person. I was better than I had been, but I wasn’t where I wanted to be just yet.
I dismissed the thought and caved.
Luca had been gone for half an hour and I would no doubt be alone for another hour… and, oops, I was lying on the bed, legs spread.
Remembering that first night, I traipsed my fingertips painfully slowly up my leg, dawdling an inch above my knee, waiting for goosebumps to prickle my flesh.
My fingers were far more delicate than his, but with his scent surrounding me, I imagined his voice in my ear.Circular motions. Not too fast. Two fingers.
I tried so hard to make my imagined Luca proud, but I hadn’t lied then, and I struggled now. I was impatient. Last night, when I thought he was in a deep sleep, I tried to rub one out, but he grunted and rolled over, tugging me into a spoon.
How I’d survived being in his overwhelming, masculine presence for so long was beyond me.
And now I was at breaking point.
My breath caught as I gave in and ran gentle fingers over my panties, pressing the cotton material to my wet pussy.
This was the issue. I’d just dried myself and here I was, imagining Luca’s voice, smelling him and, like magic, wet.
The forbidden anticipation was too much, I could combust from the tiniest flick of my clit.
But with how built up I was, if I tormented myself more… I might incinerate, not just combust.
One of the things I hadn’t packed was my wash bag. I reached over to the floor to pull out the small pocket-sized vibrator. I inserted it just slightly into myself and turned it on.
Uncaring for my wet hair, I fell back on the pillows and rubbed at my clit, imagining his hold on me from behind again, dreaming that it was his touch, not mine.
The heat built within me, tightening low in my stomach. My breaths quickened and my heels dug into the duvet as my eyes rolled back and—
A click sounded over the hum of the vibrator as the aircon turned on. Good. I needed to cool down so that I could come again and again and—
“Oh, fuck—”
“Is that my top?”
I sprang out of my skin. Ice cold ran through me as if the aircon had actually been put on. Nope, that noise had been the damn door.
Because stood in front of me was Luca Mendes. The man I’d nearly just come to the thought of.
I froze. I was dead. Buried. This was how I went—caught, soaking, with his shirt around my tits and a vibrator in my hand. What an iconic way to go.
Get it together.
I pulled down the top he spoke of to cover myself and attempted to put sounds into words to form some kind of sentence… but I fell short.
He was unbothered, turning the desk chair around to face the bed. “It looks good on you,” he complimented as he sat and then waved a hand in my direction. “Don’t stop on my account.”
