Page 19 of What Was Meant To Be

“Thanks for the ride.”And I try to ignore the innuendo my mind conjures.

“For you? Anything.”Fuck.That dimple appears and I feel myself getting weak in the knees.

I almost close the door before I open it back again.

“I am happy to see you, JP” I don’t wait for his response before I close the door, but I definitely do not miss the smile on his face before I turn toward my house.

My dick is hard as fucking stone. I don’t think it’s ever been this hard. Not since Whitney rubbed her sweet little ass against me for the first time nearly five years ago. She’d been trying to tease me. Entice me into fucking her. I had been trying my best to exercise restraint when all I wanted to do was pin her to her parent’s couch and feed her my cock. Of course, at the time, my best friends,her parentswere just upstairs. She’d been determined that night. Her hands touching every inch of me like I belonged to her. But I couldn’t touch Whitney. It was sick that I was even considering it, but with every sigh that left her lips and the sexy shy look that crossed her face, I found my resolve weakening.

I slam the door of my house so hard it rattles the bookshelf in my office just off the foyer. Books fall to the floor but I can’t be bothered to care as my only concern is wrapping my hand around my dick like a horny teenage boy. I’m unbuckling my pants before I even get to the chair in my office knowing exactly what the fuck I’m looking for. I drop my pants to my ankles just before I sit in my office chair and power up my laptop, finding the photos in the locked file on my computer. The photos that I had deleted numerous times but could never bring myself to permanently delete from my computer’s recycling bin once they were in there. I tried to delete them after we broke up, part of me flooded with guilt for keeping these photographic memories of her.Proof that we’d been together. Proof we’d been real.

Photos of Whitney. Some clothed somenot so clothed.Whitney sent me pictures of herself constantly. If I was away on business or even just at the grocery store. She’d once sent pictures of her fingers in her cunt just before I’d gone into a three-hour surgery leaving me with a hard-on for ninety goddamn minutes.

“Fucking hell, Whitney,” I grit out as my hand finds the base of my cock and I drag it up to the top. “Fuck, I missed you so much.” My dick twitches at the same time my heart begins to pound in my chest as the thoughts of her taking me back begin to fester.

Thoughts of her showing up at my door and telling me that she loves me are all I can think about as I begin to move my hand faster. My dick gets harder thinking about her lips. Those full pouty lips wrapping around my dick, sucking my balls into her mouth, or pressing her lips to mine. I open the folder and the first picture that pops up is a picture of the both of us. It was probably about a year into our relationship and we’d flown to Aspen for the weekend. The plan was to go skiing but we never made it out of the room. We’d made love in front of the fire countless times and watched as snow poured just outside the window. The picture is of us kissing. You can tell we’re lying on the bed, pillows behind our heads and that we’re probably naked given that our shoulders and upper chests are bare. Her hand is resting on my cheek and both of our eyes are closed. Despite not being able to see our eyes, we looked happy. Happy and fucking in love.

How did I give this up?

I let my hand fall from my dick, that’s soft and suddenly angry at me for taking me on this particular trip down memory lane and not one of the many others that would provide a visual of me fucking her ass for example. I drop my head into my hands when my phone buzzes in my pocket indicating a text message. I contemplated ignoring it, thinking it’s probably Trey or maybe my college fraternity group chat which has its intermittent moments of activity on random Friday nights. I pull it out of my pocket and I’m pleased to see the name and message on the screen.

Whitney: It was good to see you.

I smile because unfortunately for her, I still spoke fluent Whitney Monroe, and this was more than just the words on the screen. I smile before giving her a cheeky reply.

Me: So, you said when I dropped you off.

Whitney: Don’t be an ass.

My smile widens.

Me: My apologies. Why are you still awake? I assumed you’d be asleep once you were in range of your bed.

Whenever Whitney had been drinking, the second she got home she’d be knocked out. There were nights she barely got undressed and even more nights I’d take her makeup for her when she was already asleep because she’d drunkenly passed out before she had a chance to get ready for bed.

Whitney: I’m not that drunk. And just worked up, I guess.

Me: About what?

I have a guess but I want her to say it. I want her to admit she still feels the spark between us. That this isn’t easy for her either. Something. Fucking anything.

Whitney: Don’t you have like twenty-five years of schooling and a medical degree? Can’t figure that out?

Me: I want you to say it. I don’t want to assume.

Whitney: You, alright? Seeing you was… exactly what I expected and somehow, I wasn’t prepared for it.

Still not exactly what I was looking for, but we are getting somewhere.

Me: I don’t know what to say to that

Whitney: Parker is a really nice guy.

This joker again.I don’t respond, hoping she’ll expand on her comment or even if there’s a ‘but’ coming.

But I don’t love him.

But he doesn’t look at me the way you do.

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