CHAPTER 14

Gavin:

I’m so turned on from touching Sam’s body that it’s almost painful. It was the hottest experience I’ve had in a long time, and I never even touched her below the waist. Not that I hadn’t wanted to. Luckily, Robby interrupted us before I could make an even bigger mistake than just making out with her. And boy had I been about to do so much more. My dick twitches and hardens more just from thinking about all the things I wanted—still want—to do with her.

“Fuck.” I’m going to have to take care of this if I’m going to get any peace tonight. There’s no way I’ll be able to go to sleep with an erection the size of the empire state building tenting my blanket. But as I reach my hand under the waistband of my pants and pull my erection free, I can’t shake the suspicion that the feel of Sam’s lips, her tongue tangling with mine, her lithe body writhing under my hands is going to haunt me for a long time, no matter how many times I get myself off. Heaven knows I’ve tried enough times that if it was going to work to get her out of my system, it would have done so by now.

But that’s not going to stop me from doing it again. Because I’ve got class in just over eight hours, and I’m going to need to cum if I’m ever going to get any sleep tonight. I pull off my T-shirt and then lie back. Bending my arm, I place my free hand under my head and look down at my throbbing dick, wrap my hand tight around it, and slide it slowly from base to tip and back down again. Just that small bit of stimulation sends a wave of pleasure rolling over me. My pulse quickens. I’m so hard, so turned on, I won’t take long at all to bring myself off. Not that I’ve had any trouble getting off quickly since I met Sam.

I give myself another long, slow stroke. This time, I close my eyes and picture Sam here with me, leaning over me, her long, honey-colored waves tickling my stomach, her graceful fingers reaching out to touch me. And on the next stroke, I picture her hand gliding over me. “Fuck, Sam.” I groan into the dark room, then freeze immediately. My eyes shoot open, darting right to my closed bedroom door. I’m so stupid. How could I have said her name out loud? Did she hear me call her name? I’m painfully aware of how paper thin these walls can be, a point driven home every time Robby brings home a new flavor of the week.

I lie there for a long moment, dick in hand, unsure if I should continue. The whole time, I’m almost desperate to keep stroking. I briefly consider moving to the shower to finish myself off under the cover of running water, but I just took a shower half an hour ago. Taking another one now will leave zero doubt about what I’m doing in there. Not to mention the fact that I’m so fucking tired of jerking it in the shower.

I strain my ears, listening for any sign that Sam might be out of bed and wandering around, but I don’t hear anything. Finally deciding I’m safe to continue—quietly of course—I resume stroking my aching cock. This time, though, I don’t close my eyes, don’t let myself get carried away enough to call out her name again. Instead, I keep my eyes glued to the closed door across the room.

Even with my eyes open, I have no problem picturing Sam the way she looked just a short time ago, her heavy-lidded eyes, her lips swollen from my kiss. But I don’t stop there. I envisioned myself stripping that tiny pink scrap of a shirt off, under which she was clearly not wearing a bra. Then I picture sliding my hands up under her skirt to her panties, which in my mind, are a sexy black lace number that hides nothing.

I stroke faster, feeling the pressure build, knowing eruption is imminent. In my imagination, I kiss down Sam’s neck to her chest, where I worship her breasts the way I’ve wanted to since the first time I saw them that night I found her naked in my tub. I imagine laving first one nipple then the other. What would her nipples look like, I wonder, wishing they hadn’t been covered in soapy bubbles that night. Would they be peachy and luscious and full like her lips? Or maybe dusky and rosy and delicate like her cheekbones. In my fantasy, I take turns sucking each one into my mouth, rolling them around my tongue while I simultaneously slide her panties down her body. Her little mews of pleasure tickle in my brain.

Just as I slide my imaginary hand between fantasy Sam’s legs, my balls tighten in the most delicious way, sending the first notes of ecstasy through me. My breath comes out in short, ragged, panting gasps now, and I worry somewhere in the back of my mind that she might hear me, but I can’t stop now. I’m too close. Even if I stopped stroking, I’d still cum. I pump my fist once, twice, three times more before my orgasm overtakes me. My hips buck, thrusting my erection harder into my hand as the first jets of release shoot across my stomach. My breath hitches in my throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into me.

I’m still reeling from the orgasmic high when a shuffling sound draws my attention. My gaze darts to the doorway.

“Sam.”

There she is, standing in my now open doorway, looking for all the world like I just caught her masturbating, cheeks flushed, lips parted, breathing heavy. She’s frozen in place, one hand still on the doorknob. The other hovering in the air between us, almost like she’s reaching out to me. And she’s barely dressed. She’s wearing a Hawks team shirt that only just covers the point where her thighs meet.

Time stops as my brain absorbs what’s happening. Here I am, sprawled out naked with my hand wrapped around my quickly softening dick and covered in my newly expended cum—After having rubbed one out thinking about her. And she’s standing in the doorway as if I conjured her there myself.

I reach for my discarded shirt and use it to wipe off the remnants of my solo session. Embarrassment a heavy weight on my chest. “Fuck, Sam. Get out!”

Okay, so that’s probably not the reaction I should have, but shame makes people do weird things and I’m no exception.

My words seem to break her out of whatever spell she’s under, and she let’s go of the doorknob, takes a step back, starts to turn away. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry. You called my name! I thought you needed—ow, fuck!” She slams face first into the door frame in her haste to exit the room. The impact is so hard, I hear it across the room and watch helplessly as the force sends her reeling backward. She lands graceless on her bottom, then topples onto her back.

And just like that, I go from wishing a random earthquake would collapse this entire building and take me with it to concern for her. At least I have the presence of mind to tuck my dick back into my pants before I race across the room to her. She’s still lying on the floor when I get there and crouch next to her, but she’s conscious, so that’s a good sign.

“I’m fine,” she says before I can ask and waves me away with the hand not holding her forehead. “It’s my fault. I should have been watching where I was going.”

She sits up slowly, and I hold out a hand to help her to her feet. When all she does is eye my hand like it’s about to turn into a snake and bite her, a fresh wave of shame washes over me as I remember what I was doing with that very hand just a few moments ago.

I stand up and step back, giving her space to get up on her own. Once she’s steady on her feet, she turns again to exit the room, this time clearing the doorframe easily.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I stand helpless in the center of my room, still breathing heavy, though whether that’s from the adrenaline or the orgasm, I can’t tell.

“Positive. I’m good. Sorry for… you know.” She motions in the general direction of my crotch without actually turning to look at me. And then she’s gone, down the hall and presumably back to her alcove without another word.

I collapse back to sit on the bed and try to figure out what the fuck just happened. Once my breathing slows, and my legs don’t feel like jelly anymore, I get up and slip quietly into the bathroom. I make short work of cleaning myself off and then head back to my room. I don’t bother peaking around the corner on my way to see if Sam is okay. I’m pretty sure the last thing either of us wants right now is to see the other. But as I lie back down, I’m once again assailed by steamy imaginings of her. I curl up into a ball and place my pillow over my head, doing my best to pretend that the last twenty minutes never happened. That she didn’t show up in my doorway in nothing but a T-shirt that barely reached her thighs just because she heard me call her name while I was masturbating. I can’t let myself think about the implications of that, but it doesn’t stop my dick from beginning to thicken again. This is probably going to be one of the longest nights of my life.