Page 19 of What About Us

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I will not jerk off to thoughts of my best friend. I will not jerk off to thoughts of my best friend. I will not…

It’s like a mantra in my head as I wash my hair and move on to my body. But I’m weak as fuck, and I know Iwilljerk off to thoughts of my best friend. I try to hate myself, even as I run my hand along my dick, giving it two long strokes. But I can’t. Her fucking mouth was right there. I could have kissed her and… And then, what?

Bracing my free hand on the cold tile of the shower wall, I imagine her tongue in my mouth and swallowing that little gasp that escaped her lips when I pushed the pickle past her teeth. Her lips… Those goddamn lips. So poutyand mauve pink.

I work my hand in time to thoughts of her on her knees for me, my hands in all that thick hair, and my cock stretching her perfect mouth. God, how I want it to be real. Want her in my bed, underneath me.

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Water beats down on me and I clench my jaw, tingles starting at the base of my spine. Images flash before my eyes like an erotic highlight reel: her legs wrapped around my head as I fuck her with my tongue; her head thrown back as she comes; her riding my cock on the couch; perfect tits bouncing in my face; and then, her on her knees for me again, but in the shower right here with me. Her big, brown eyes and water-soaked lashes, while my moans mix with her desperate whimpers.

The little sound she let out when I kissed her all those months ago is starting to fade from memory. It both pisses me off and calms me—if for no other reason than I shouldn’t be entertaining how she sounds when her lips are against mine. All I can do now isimagineher little moans and pants, and her eyes tearing up as I hit the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” I grit out, while gripping my cock, jerking harder and faster, before my jaw goes slack and my orgasm crests. I’m a sick bastard, but I can’t stop until I’m panting and hot cum is shooting out of me all over the tile at my feet.

I slow my hand, working myself through one of the most intense orgasms I’ve had in a while. My chest heaves and I drop my head forward onto the cold tile wall. Something that feels a hell of a lot like shame heats my neck as I watch the water go down the drain and my breathing evens out. This isn’t even the first time I’ve jerked off while thinking of her. But itisthe first time I’ve done it while living in her house, while she’s downstairs, taking care of my daughter. So much for getting my shit together.

I shut off the water with more force than probably necessary and wrap a towel around my hips. This is bad. We’ve only been back three days, and I’m already half hard every time she comes into the room. Even now—after coming so hard I almost saw stars—I know it wouldn’t take much to getme hard again. What the hell made me think this was a good idea, us living together?

I just need space. And I need to work. That’s all this is. Once I am out of the house every day and not surrounded by all of her things—all of her smells—it’ll be easier.

Jesus, I hope this gets easier.

My phone dings on the bathroom counter and I pick it up.

Jameson:Wanna play a game and watch a movie after Paige goes down? I’m feeling lucky, punk.

I groan and put the phone back down, dragging a hand through my wet hair. Finn’s been trying to beat me at chess since we were eighteen. Every time we get together, we end up playing at least one game. We even played online sometimes when we are in different states. We’re both a couple of shit talkers, and it’s always a good time. But tonight, I don’t know if I can handle being that close to her after the whole pickle debacle. I already feel weird having just jerked off while thinking about her.

But it’s only eight, and I can’t hang out in my room until I fall asleep. That’d be even more weird. She would absolutely come into my room and want to talk about what is bothering me.

Images of her in those little shorts and my sweatshirt crawling into bed with me, hoping to talk flit through my mind. I would abso-fucking-lutely not be able to stop thinking about what she has on underneath. I already can’t.

I swipe the condensation off the mirror and brace my palms on the cool countertop, studying my face. I just need a pep talk.

“You can do this, asshole. You can spend an hour so or across from your best friend, playing a quick game of chess, and not lose your mind. Put something bloody and action-filled on the TV and it’ll befine,” I say to my reflection.

I pull up the texting app and reply to Finn, letting her know that I’ll be down shortly. Then, I click out of our messages and into the group message I have with my brothers. I especially love to annoy Hank with it, since he just got a smart phone and has zero desire to learn how to use it. It’s fucking hilarious, because even though he could leave the group message, he doesn’t know how.

Hudson:I need something to do. You guys need any help with anything