Page 35 of Four-ever Single

“Everything okay?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she squirted more lotion into her hand and began working on the other leg. “You’re all sweaty.”

“I ran a few miles on the treadmill and lifted weights,” I replied, grabbing the back of my shirt and pulling it over my head. I stepped into the walk-in closet and tossed it into the hamper before removing the rest of my clothes.

Her jaw dropped open as I walked past her to the master bathroom in all my naked glory, cock proudly saluting her on our way by.

“Jones!” she hissed, jumping off the bed and letting the bottle of lotion fall to the floor.

“What?”

“You can’t just strip off your clothes and parade around here all—naked!”

“Why not?” I lifted my arm and leaned it against the bathroom door frame, knowing she was having trouble not looking down at my dick.

“Because—it’s... Like... totally... Ugh. You know what?” She placed her hands on her hips and stared at me, eyes narrowing as she fumed.

“What?”

“It’s inappropriate. That’s what it is.” She folded her arms over her chest, satisfied with her answer.

“The only reason you think it’s inappropriate is because you decided to take a vow of celibacy until our wedding. It wasn’t inappropriate when you were gagging on it while taking me deep into your throat, and you sure as hell didn’t find it inappropriate when I fucked you so hard we both came twice. Don’t get mad at me for being naked in my house when you’re the one who decided no sex until the wedding.”

She inhaled sharply, processing that.

“You know I was just kidding about the whole waiting thing, right?” she asked, shifting her weight as she allowed her eyes to drift down for a split second.

“You weren’t joking,” I replied, leaning forward as I lifted her chin with my finger. “And Bella?”

“Yeah?”

“My eyes are up here. I would appreciate it if you could stop ogling me like a piece of meat. I’m a man with feelings, and it would be great if you respected that before we embark upon the journey of marriage. I won’t be objectified and used as a sex object,” I teased, winking as I turned and gave her the perfect view of my ass as I walked into the bathroom.

I whistled an upbeat tune as I turned the water on and stepped inside. I needed the rush of cold water to cool me off before getting into bed with the most beautiful girl in the world, who I couldn’t touch for six more days.

Twenty-Two

Bella

I stood there feeling completely sextrated—it’s a real fucking thing when you’re sexually frustrated—as Jones got in the shower and left me standing in his room, needy and aching to be touched.

Was it my fault we couldn’t have sex? Yes. Did I already regret telling him I wanted to wait until our wedding night to consummate the marriage? Also, yes.

But the thing was that I kinda liked this version of Jones. I hadn’t known him long enough to see this side before—but I liked it. A lot. So much so that I was tempted to get a toy and please myself while he likely jerked off in the shower because there was no way his erection was going away on its own any time soon.

I loved that he wasn’t insecure about his body and didn’t need me complimenting him on his big cock or rock-solid pecs. He didn’t seem to even care whether I checked him out or not—though, let's be honest, we all knew I was checking him out. It was hard not to! He was sweaty, his skin glistening and begging to be touched. And even though I couldn’t get a good look without getting caught staring, I was pretty sure I saw a drop of precum on the tip.

By the time he had finished in the bathroom, I had turned down my side of the bed and was changed into pajamas. IF you could call these pajamas. I couldn’t tell you what possibly motivated me to pack them in my stuff when I moved things over earlier, but I was glad I did.

Jones came out, steam billowing around him, and stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at me. He hadn’t bothered to put clothes on while he was in there, which made it hard not to stare at the bulge still lurking beneath the towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“I was just setting some alarms for the morning,” I replied, holding my phone up to show him.

The black see-through lace bra I had on shifted, pulling the fabric against my nipple, making it harder. I didn’t have to check if he’d noticed it because the way he was looking at me said he noticed everything.

“What are you wearing,” he clarified, gripping the towel tighter.

“Oh, this?” I looked down as if I hadn’t already seen the ensemble. “This is what I sleep in at night.”

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