Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
This shower is cooler than the last and I roll my head from side to side, one hand braced on the tile shower wall. My shoulders dip. The other hand moves down my body, gripping my already hardening cock and I squeeze my eyes shut.
My grip is tight as I pull, moving my fist up and down, up and down, faster and faster and faster, the water a shoddy substitute for lube or spit.
I let my forehead rest on the tile.
It’s cool.
Wet.
I visualize Lizzy and those hard nipples beneath her white sleep tank—the soft, smooth under thigh—imagining myself braced between her legs. Imagine my mouth on her pussy.
I bet she doesn’t wax or shave it.
Doesn’t seem like the type.
I imagine myself licking and sucking her sweet tits, moaning when the tip of my thumb strokes the rim of my cock.
My balls tighten, pulsing when I come, my entire body convulsing. Thank god I have one hand on the shower wall, or my fucking knees would buckle.
My body wracks itself from the pleasure, a jolt of energy zinging through my groin as cum spurts into my palm.
I breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe i—
“Holy fuck, dude, were you just whacking off?”
The door flies open, and I’m literally caught with my dick in my hand as one of my roommates saunters in, moving to the sink as if he hadn’t just interrupted. Two seconds earlier and….
“Shut the fucking door!”
Were these assholes not supposed to be gone? Jesus Christ, can I not have two minutes of privacy?
“Bro, chill. I jerk off like, every day.” Charlie laughs, continuing to stand in the open doorway. “Sometimes twice, if I’m being honest.”
I shut the water off, angry, and grab the towel that I’d tossed over the shower curtain.
“Why are you still standing there? Get the fuck out of here.”
“Dude, masturbating isn’t supposed to make you angrier. It’s supposed to calm you down. What’s your problem?”
Nothing is my problem.
My phone chooses that moment to ding, and Charlie leans over to glance at my lit up phone screen.
“Who’s Lizzy?”
“None of your business.”
His brows furrow as he frowns, thinking. “How do I know a Lizzy?”
“You don’t.”
He stands there, taking up space, while I towel off, then wrap the towel around my wet body. Not a single person is willing to let me shower or relax in peace.
I bet it’s quiet at Lizzy’s house.
I bet she doesn’t have to tolerate this bullshit, squirrels not included.
I bet her room smells like flowers, and her bed feels like sleeping on a cloud.
The thoughts have me scowling.
Suddenly, Charlie snaps his fingers. “The neighbor. Jill’s roommate.” He seems pleased with himself. “Are the two of you…”
“No.”
He leans his hip on the counter as I stand there dripping wet.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
He grins. “That’s a horrible reason.”
Why are these assholes so nosy? I should have lived alone this year, it would have saved me so much trouble and humiliation.
“It’s not a reason. It’s a fact.”
He squints at me. “That would not hold up in a court of law.”
“Don’t use your courtroom bullshit on me.”
Charlie is pre-law although the reality of him actually becoming a lawyer is slim to none and actually kind of terrifying. He’s going to the pros and won’t need a backup plan for many, many years but dude, him in a courtroom?
Yikes.
“Are you going to respond to her?” he pesters. “What did she want?”
“Oh my god—can’t a guy shower in privacy?”
I shuffle past him, stalking to my room like a guy who’s genuinely embarrassed to have been caught with his dick in his hand.
“’Kay. But you weren’t taking a piss. You were jerking off.”
I slam my door behind me but can still hear the fucker laughing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIZZY
Brodie: No! It’s never been up for debate.
I chew on my bottom lip, my thumb scrolling up and down, re-reading the messages. They’re not exactly what I’d call flirty. Nor would I call them sexy.
Brodie’s exchanges from last night read like a confused puppy dog who hasn’t been taught how to banter.
Poor thing.
How is he surviving in this world?
Seriously.
“Oh the things I would do to you, Brodie Stockhausen,” I murmur to myself, staring at my hair in the mirror.
“Oh the things I would do to you if I only had the chance…”
“Who are you talking to?” Jill has her head sticking in the bathroom, an apple in one hand, her bookbag in the other.
“Myself.” I set the brush down, then wrap my long hair through an elastic rubber band, round and round, until I have a smooth, slick ponytail.
Done.
“It sounded like you said ‘Oh the things I would do to you.’” Her brows are raised. “Who were you talking about?”
“The neighbor.”
“Which one?”
“Brodie. The guy I spent the night with. The guy is…unflappable. Like, I cannot get him to flirt and he never looked at my boobs once, and I didn’t catch him staring. It’s infuriating.”