Page 61 of Fight For Us
But shit, what if she didn’t want me? She freaked out when I’d accidentally seen her tit. I could picture how it would go—me coming on to her and her shooting me down. Then what? We’d have to live together and it would be awkward as hell. Or worse—she’d end our arrangement and kick me out of her life.
I couldn’t lose her. She was too important to me.
My cock would have to deal. There were fates worse than an extended case of blue balls.
She turned the shower off while I was standing near the door with an erection that could double as a steel rod. I scrambled backwards just as she stepped out of the bathroom.
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be in here.” She looked so damn beautiful with her face flushed pink. One towel was wrapped in her hair and the other fit snugly around her chest. I clenched my fists to keep from reaching for her.
“Sorry, kids are going to sleep… I should have waited to come in. Won’t do it again.” If some blood flow could return to my brain that would be nice.
“It’s fine,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re being weird.”
“What? Am I?” I coughed and shrugged. “So, I guess I’ll go shower since you’ve finished yourself… I mean since you’re done.”
This is what celibacy for eight years looked like. I was a complete bumbling fool.
“Okay…” she said, drawing out the word. “I, uh, left your bench in there for you, all set up.”
“Good, great. Thanks.” I passed her as I walked toward the bathroom door and got a whiff of my body wash. She hurried past me and into the walk-in closet, closing the door behind her. She used my body wash while she got herself off? I was truly and seriously fucked.
I undressed quickly while the bathroom filled with steam, careful to soak up any remaining water on the bath mat before I removed my leg. Fuck, it felt amazing to get some air on my residual limb after a long day on my feet. Removing my sweaty liners gave my brain something else to focus on, other than Olivia in the shower.
I situated myself on my bench and leaned into the stream of hot water. It pulsed hard and fast against my tired shoulders. A littletoohard and fast. Looking up at the showerhead, realization hit me like a vibrator to the face. She used theshowerhead. So much for calming my dick down.
While the stream pounded my back, I soaped myself up. The bottle had already been uncapped.I knew it. Now my own body wash was turning me on. I took hold of my uncomfortably hard cock and slid my soapy palm along the length. It felt so good, so wet and slippery.Not as good as she’d feel.
I let my mind run wild—Olivia’s soft palm stroking me.“You’re so hard for me, Wes.”Fuck yes, I am. You feel incredible.“Mmm, this hard cock is all mine.”All yours. No one else’s. I fisted myself harder as I pictured sinking into Olivia’s tightpussy. Her moaning my name with each thrust. Squeezing my cock as she fell apart. She loved every second. God, I was seconds away from blowing my load. My muscles contracted and I pumped myself faster. Bright spots burst behind my closed lids as my cock pulsed.“Come for me Wes. Fill me up.”
“Fuck!”
My cum shot out, mixing with the hot water pulsating around me. I flopped my head back against the tile, breathing hard while I floated back into my body.
“Holy shit.” I hoped she didn’t hear me. Or did I? Maybe this would be our new life. Us overhearing each other getting ourselves off while we pretended we didn’t. I could work with that… for a while. I’d take any part of her.
I finished showering, taking extra time to regain strength in my trembling thighs. That had to be the hardest I’d ever come from my own hand. My heart still hammered against my ribs.
I turned off the shower and faced the bathroom to grab my towels. I’d always needed at least two to make sure everything was dry before putting my leg back on.
“Shit.” I could smack myself. In my stumbling stupor, I’d forgotten to grab any towels at all. My clean liners were also sitting discarded on my side of the bed. Looking around, I realized my only options were either the thoroughly soaked bath mat, or the hand towel. My hair dripped water along my chest, not helping my situation in the slightest.
“Olivia?” I called. If she answered, I’d ask her to pass my stuff through the door. If she didn’t, I’d take my chances and try to make it to the bed without face planting. “You in here?”
No answer.
I dried myself as much as I could with the small hand towel, grabbed my leg, and held onto the door for balance. In the eight years since my surgeries, I was more than used to the “hop across short spaces” game, but it was never fun. I’d take hopping over crawling though.
The coast was clear, so I held the wall for balance and made my way slowly toward the bed. If I could grab a clean towel then I’d be able to dry off and get my prosthesis back on right away. But where did she keep clean towels?
“You decent?” Oliva opened the closet door as I stood buck naked steps away from the bathroom.
“No!”
“Oh, fuck!”
We yelled at the same time and I was so damn frazzled I let go of the wall and fell right on my ass. She covered her eyes with one hand and removed an AirPod from her ear with the other.
“Shit, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I thought you’d be done. I should have waited longer. I was listening to music and unpacking and—”
