The muscles in his right arm tensed and released over and over, drawing my gaze further down his body until it stopped on the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. His hand was wrapped firmly around his thick, rigid erection, pumping hard and fast as the spray from the showerhead rained down on him.
The sight of the strained length, of him pleasuring himself at almost a brutal pace caused my pulse to skyrocket. My heart was beating so furiously I feared it would pound right through my chest.
My lungs finally protested at the lack of air, forcing me to pull in a shaky breath. It felt like every cell in my body had come to life. Heat coiled tight in my belly as arousal flooded my senses. There was no other way to describe him in that very moment other than… glorious. Every hard, wet inch of him was sheer perfection.
I wanted to touch him, taste him. Desire clawed from deep within my belly, making it difficult to stay rooted in place, especially since I wanted nothing more than to push the door open and join him in that shower, replacing his hand with my own.
God, I’d never felt this way before. It was thrilling and scary all at the same time. I continued to stand there like a voyeur as he jerked off, clenching my thighs together in a hopeless effort to alleviate the sudden needy ache between my legs.
When his hips began to move, thrusting in time with each pump of his fist, that ache grew even more intense, and a deep, wanton moan escaped my lips.
I slapped my hands over my mouth in an attempt to catch the noise, but it was too late. He could have heard me. I needed to get the hell out of there. I had no business creeping on my friend the way I was, but even as my brain screamed at me to run, I couldn’t get my feet to cooperate.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned a moment later, his teeth clenching so tight I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw from where I stood.
My gaze shot back down just as his hand and hips began to move faster. Curse words echoed through the bathroom, his entire body locked tight, and with a loud moan he began to come. His head collapsed forward as he grunted his release, and I watched transfixed as he exploded on his hand with one word whispered over and over with every spurt. “Melany.”
My name on his lips was enough to snap me out of the haze of desire. It was then that I was able to finally make my body move. I shot from the room like the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels. I was breathing like I’d just run a marathon by the time I got to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. Every fiber of my body was pulled tight with a foreign sensation. After witnessing something so private, my body craved its own release. I’d had sex exactly two times in my entire life, neither of those times being pleasurable. The only orgasms I’d ever experienced were of my own doing. But, with the mental image of Chance in the shower firmly planted in the front of my brain, I felt like all it would take was a small breeze to send me flying over the edge.
This must have been what Constance was talking about when she mentioned Chance being perfect spank bank material. And, dear Lord in Heaven, was she ever right!
After several minutes of Lamaze-type breathing, I was finally able to get my heart rate out of the danger zone. I wasn’t sure how I was going to face Chance after what I’d seen. I had no doubt I’d turn into a stuttering, blushing mess, but I couldn’t lock myself in my room forever.
I was confident, dammit! Or at least I was getting better at pretending to be confident. Besides, I had clothes to wash, dinner to prepare, and an apartment to clean. With one last fortifying breath, I did something that was completely out of character. I pulled up my big girl panties, opened the bedroom door, and walked out, determined to continue my day as planned. I dumped a load of clothes in the wash and moved to the kitchen to begin chopping vegetables for a salad.
Then I saw him step out of his bedroom, his hair still dripping from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of loose basketball shorts that rested low on his trim hips…
And everything went to hell.
Chance
I’D CAUGHT HER watching me as I jacked off in the shower.
And just the realization that she stood there with her cheeks flushed pink and her chest heaving with every breath as she stared was enough to make me come harder than I had in a really fucking long time.
I woke earlier that morning with another raging hard-on after spending the night dreaming of Melany. After spending the next few hours going over some case files, surrounded by her intoxicating scent, I decided a nice long run was exactly what my body needed in order to calm down. After exhausting my body to the point where I could trust myself to be around her without tackling her to the floor and mounting her like a goddamned horny dog, I headed back to the apartment.
Then it all went to shit the second I walked through the door.
Melany was bent over the coffee table, picking up a glass of water. It was a harmless task that would have probably gone unnoticed… if it hadn’t been her, and she hadn’t been wearing those cotton shorts that hugged her luscious ass. The instant I saw it, I got hard. She stood up, smiled sweetly over her shoulder, and that insane, feral desire to take her surged through my bloodstream.
I grunted something about needing a shower and hightailed it to my room. Once the warm water hit my body, I knew I had no other choice but to take matters into my own hands… literally. My dick was a ticking time bomb that I needed to get under control. So that’s exactly what I started to do.
I was so hard my balls actually ached, and the relief I felt when my fingers finally wrapped around my cock was so intense I couldn’t focus on anything else.
Then I heard her tiny, high-pitched gasp.
From my peripheral vision, I saw her reflection in my bathroom mirror. She was standing just feet away from the partially open bathroom door. Her eyes were wide and every inch of her bare skin was burning with that blush I’d come to love so much. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to. Knowing she was there was a heady rush, making my cock swell thicker as I fucked my fist. Having her live and in person was so much better than just fantasizing that it was her tiny little hand wrapped around me. I’d have given anything in that very moment for her to push through the door and join me. I wanted to fuck her against the shower wall, bent over the bathroom counter, on all fours on the bathroom floor.
I wanted her in every possible way.
I clenched my eyes closed and allowed myself to envision her coming to me, stripping her clothes off and pulling the door to the shower stall open. My balls grew tight, tingles shot to the very base of my spine, and I knew I was close. A quick peek showed she was still there, front and center for the show. Melany, the girl I’d spent weeks falling for, was going to watch me blow my load.
“Fuuuuuck,” I groaned. Seconds later, I lost it. I came so hard I saw stars. Without thinking, without even realizing I was doing it, I chanted her name like a prayer as the last of my release shot against the tiles. I almost collapsed under the weight of my orgasm. It took several seconds for my breathing to regulate, for my vision to clear. And by the time my senses returned and I turned to look, she was gone.
As I dried off and pulled on a clean pair of underwear and shorts, I almost convinced myself that I imagined the whole thing, that she hadn’t really been there watching, enraptured. But then I left my bedroom and realized it hadn’t all been in my head.
She was in the kitchen when I walked into the living room, and the moment her eyes met mine, they went wide, the amber color several shades darker. I knew right then that she’d liked what she’d seen. No, from the way her cheeks glowed crimson, I knew she fucking loved it, but she didn’t have the first clue how to act.
“H-hi. You have a good run?”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. The little peeper didn’t know I’d caught her.
“Fine,” I answered casually, rounding the island and moving to the fridge for a bottle of water. “Very… relaxing. Great stress reliever.”
She let out a little squeak at the double entendre, letting me know she was still deeply a
ffected by what she saw. A light bulb went off in my head. She was just as turned on by me as I was by her, and this was the perfect opportunity to start using that to my advantage.
A little brush here, a light caress there, and maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to drive her so wild she wouldn’t be able to control herself.
“What are you doing?” I asked, coming to stand behind her, so close I could feel the heat radiating from her skin and smell the seductive floral notes of her perfume.
Her back went stiff and I heard her gulp. “M-making a salad to go with dinner.”
I reached around her, taking care to brush my arm against hers as I snatched up a piece of carrot and popped it in my mouth.
“Mmm,” I hummed only inches from her ear. “Good, I’m starving.”
She shivered, actually fucking shivered. And to my immense delight, her body swayed backward, coming into contact with mine unconsciously.
“Y-yeah?”
I lowered my voice and let out a rumbled, “Oh yeah. Really worked up an appetite, you know?”
The knife dropped from her hand midchop and clattered to the counter. That was when I knew I’d pushed enough for now. Any further and my plan might backfire and she could collapse onto the floor. I had to remember that she was new to all of this.
Grabbing one last piece of carrot, I tossed it into my mouth and backed away. “Let me know when it’s ready.”
Then, against every single bodily instinct I had, I left the kitchen. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, but I told myself this was a marathon, not a sprint. It was the long game that mattered.
And I’d just landed the first shot.
Game on, Melany, I thought with a wicked grin as I collapsed onto the couch and flipped on the TV.
Game fucking on.
Chapter 18
Melany
THE PAST WEEK had been a specific type of torture the likes of which I’d never known. Seven days. Seven freaking days had passed since I eavesdropped on Chance’s little self-pleasure sesh in the shower. One-hundred-and-sixty-eight hours… give or take a few minutes of pure, unadulterated Hell.
For the first time in my life, I experienced true sexual frustration, and let me just tell you, it was exhausting! I wasn’t sleeping well, because every time I closed my eyes, I pictured him. When I finally did manage to drift off and hit my REM, the graphic dreams of the two of us together would wake me up, panting, sweaty, unfulfilled.
But the hours I spent awake were just as bad. The longer I stayed with him, the more I came to realize two things. First, Chance was an affectionate guy. He liked to touch. Whether it was brushing my bangs from my forehead, running his fingers across my skin as he passed, or pulling me against him when we sat together in front of the television, he was always touching me. I loved it, even though it was driving my body crazy and made my budding feelings for him that much worse. Second, he seemed to have an aversion to wearing a shirt when he was at home. Maybe it was because he spent five days a week stuck in a confining suit, but when he was home, he was shirtless. Always. Again… something I loved, even though my blood heated every time I looked at him.
See? Hell!
“Hey.”
Chance’s voice startled a jump from me, and I twisted from my position on the couch to look over the back at him. Even though it was a Sunday, he’d gone into the office earlier that morning to get some work done on a case that was going to court soon. Constance was busy with the kids, so I’d decided to curl up on the comfy sofa for a Twilight marathon. I was on the third movie when he came sauntering through the door.
“Hey. You’re back.” Way to state the obvious, Melany.
Shutting the front door, he moved further into the apartment, his eyes focused on me intently. “Yeah. Got as much done today as I could before my eyes started to cross.” With a tilt of his chin in the direction of the TV, he asked, “What are you watching?”
“Uh…” Well, this wasn’t going to be embarrassing at all–a thirty-one-year-old woman watching movies about teenaged vampires and the humans they fall in love with. “Twilight: Breaking Dawn.”
He let out a thoughtful hum and turned back to me. “Never heard of it. But let me get changed real quick and I’ll come watch it with you.”
He was going to watch a Twilight movie with me? Dear God, could the man get any more perfect? I hit pause on the remote and snuggled further into the cushion, pulling the throw blanket to my shoulders as I waited. Sure enough, he came out a minute later in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt.
“Just let me grab a beer. You want anything?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I might have been drooling a bit at the sight of his lean, sculpted chest, but he thankfully didn’t seem to notice as he passed by on the way to the kitchen. I lay completely immobile, listening to the sound of him popping the cap off a beer bottle, then to his footsteps as he made his way back to me. I knew I was in trouble when I was more interested in listening to him move around the apartment than I was in the movie.
Sure enough, when he reached the couch, he used one arm to swipe the blanket off me and lift my legs. He sat and put my legs back on his lap. Once he was resting comfortably in the bend of my knees, he draped the blanket back across both of us and settled in, eyes on the TV as his free hand moved to my arm. I tried to suppress my shiver at the feel of his fingertips sliding up and down my bicep, but it was useless.
I knew he felt it when he pulled me closer against him and asked, “Cold?”
“N-no. Nope. I’m good. Just fine. Dandy.”
Yes, I was rambling. I just couldn’t help it when he touched me!
“So… what’s this movie about?”
“Um… vampires,” I answered lamely.
His fingers quit moving for a few seconds before resuming their lazy stroll across my arm. “Vampires?”
“And werewolves,” I added. “But the good kind.”
I felt his body tremble with silent laughter, and I turned my head to look at him. He was handsome all the time, but when he smiled or laughed, it amped his good looks up by a million. “There’s a good kind of vampire and werewolf?”
“In this there is.”
Blessed silence enveloped us as we both turned our attention back to the movie. I struggled to concentrate on what was happening on the screen, but it was like my brain was incapable of thinking about anything but Chance and his impressive body. Since the shower incident, I thought about him all the time; at work, at home, when I was with Constance, when I saw an ad with a half-naked man modeling underwear on the side of a passing bus. I felt like I was going to snap at any given moment.
“Your skin’s so soft,” he spoke in a low, hypnotic voice as he continued his ministrations.
“It’s my lotion. It has milk in it,” I blurted idiotically. His body started shaking with humor again, but I refused to allow myself to look this time. Instead, I tried my best to focus on the movie.
Chance shifted his position on the couch, scooting me closer to the edge so he could sprawl out behind me. His arm came around my waist, pulling my back tighter against his chest. As Bella and Edward began to kiss on the screen, Chance’s fingers began toying with the small strip of exposed skin on my belly above the waistband of my shorts.
Shit. My entire body was already a livewire because of Chance. Watching the headboard-breaking scene that was seconds from playing out on the television most certainly wasn’t going to help any.
My breath hitched, and I swallowed thickly as Chance’s index finger dipped below my waistband. “You okay?” he asked, his breath blowing against my ear, causing me to tremble as I gave a shaky nod.
The music in the movie grew louder, drawing his attention back just as Edward began to move over Bella, but all I could think about was that I could feel Chance’s erection poking into my back. Oh God. We were watching a sex scene on TV and he was getting hard! I was seconds away from going up in flames, and he. Was. Getting. Hard.
His hand
flattened on my belly, and my hips shifted of their own accord, twitching backward and pressing deeper into his hard-on.
My body began to shake with need. A tiny gasp left my lips just as Edward reached up and snapped the headboard with his bare hands.
“I’ve broken a headboard a time or two myself,” Chance whispered, a smile in his words.
I did my best to speak past the sudden dryness in my throat. “I-I… I didn’t know that was possible,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure whether he’d heard me or not.
“What?” he asked. “Breaking a headboard?” He put pressure on my belly, pulling me closer as he chuckled. “Oh, it’s possible. Believe me.”
“N-no. Not that. I meant… it’s just… I d-didn’t think…” God, I couldn’t even get the words out. I could feel the heat scorching my cheeks and I squeezed my eyes closed in embarrassment.
Chance moved from behind me, and I felt him reach for the remote on the coffee table. Seconds later, the living room was enveloped in silence as he paused the movie. “Hey,” he said softly, shifting me to my back and using a finger to turn my head. “Melany, look at me.”
I didn’t want to; I wanted to melt into the fabric of the sofa and disappear, but I pushed past all my insecurities and opened my eyes anyway. “You didn’t think what?” he asked once I was looking at him. His pupils were dilated, his eyes a shade darker than normal. Something unfamiliar shone in their depths as he studied my face. “What were you going to say?” he pushed.
“I-I didn’t think it was p-possible…,” I stuttered, “to feel that much passion. You know… during.”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You didn’t…” Then I watched, horrified as understanding, and something strangely close to sympathy, softened his features.
“Honey, exactly how many men have you been with?”
I was going to die from humiliation. At any second now, my heart was just going to stop, unable to bear the epic level of discomfort. I slapped my hands over my face in an attempt to hide. “God,” I groaned beneath my hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
Chance Encounters Page 14