Page 22 of Save Her from Me

Then my mind supplied a fucked-up detail. We’d walked in on her considering who to ask.

It hadn’t been just my name she’d said.

“No,” I snarled, and I forced myself to walk away.

* * *

Outside, I paced to my car. The door thumped behind me, and I whipped around.

Valentine strolled after me.

He smirked big. “Wishing I was a certain someone whose name rhymes with…schmariel? What the fuck was that denial when I asked if there was something between ye?”

“There isn’t. She’s just my friend’s sister,” I snapped.

“So you’ll be fine with me asking her out?”

Whatever expression I’d sunk into had him choking on laughter.

“God, man. I’m messing. I like ’em curvy, so she isn’t even my type. Stop trying to murder me with your eyes. Rein it in and drive me home, lover boy.”

Back at the hangar, I paced through the interior of the soaring structure to the bunkhouse, ignoring shouts of my name. Dimly, I heard Valentine greeting people and making plans for the evening, but after a day in the field, I needed to spend time in the office.

If I didn’t take the edge off my mood first, I’d explode.

The unlocked bunkhouse door gave way to a living area complete with teal-coloured sofas and a wood burner. There was even a bookcase stuffed full of novels. I bypassed that and headed straight to my room. With only two of us staying here, I had the entirety of the men’s dorm—a long and sparsely furnished space with six bunks, lockers, and a side table with a lamp. Valentine had the identical women’s dorm on the other side of the living room, and there was one big communal bathroom.

I flicked the lock on the door behind me and tossed my jacket on the bed next to mine. Then I dropped onto my mattress and stared into the dark.

A few weeks ago, when I’d been sleeping on the sofa in Raphael and Ariel’s tower, I’d accidentally startled the lass when she’d come home from work one afternoon. She hadn’t been expecting me and had stripped to almost completely naked on her way to the shower.

I’d walked out of Raphael’s bedroom, and she’d panicked and kicked out at me.

I’d fought to keep my gaze off her body, but the image remained burned into my brain. Pink nipples on perfect tits, thick thighs, presumably from her active job, a backside that I wanted to fucking bite.

When I jacked off to get to sleep, it was always to memories of her.

Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts roam up Ariel’s legs to the underwear I remembered her having. Then I vanished that from my imagination.

It got me hard in an instant.

My jeans were in the way, so I kicked them from my body, freeing my dick from my boxers.

I pumped my shaft, imagining getting to explore her with my tongue. I wanted to know how she tasted. How she sounded. For her to order me around in a breathy tone so I got it right for her.

She’d twist her fingers into my hair. Urge me on, grinding against my face.

I shouldn’t think about her like this, but it was pure fantasy that made me sleep better, or like now, just to be able to concentrate on anything other than her.

Gripping myself harder, I picked up the pace.

My mind shifted to her list. I wanted to read the full page. All the acts she’d written down. Or someone else had written it down for her? There had been different handwriting and two pen colours.

Some had been underlined, and I needed to know if that had been by her because she wanted to try them first.

There must’ve been a lot of laughs at her party while the women made suggestions.

Had she raised my name first or was it one of the other women, hence why she uttered it right when I showed up? Maybe that was why she was so pissed off with me. I’d featured in her fantasy and embarrassed her by magically appearing.

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