Page 85 of Wish I Might
So she went upstairs, grateful the bathroom door remained closed when she passed.She showered and dressed for bed, focusing on mundane things like her schedule for the following day, and the overflowing laundry hamper in the corner that she would need to deal with shortly.And when she was sure Nash had gone to bed, she crept back downstairs.
She turned off the lamp he’d left on for her, set her phone on the charger, then lay down and prayed for oblivion.
Chapter Twelve
Oblivion was not forthcoming.
In the dark, Bailey reached out a hand for her phone, holding it up to see the time.Two-forty-seven a.m., and she hadn’t slept a wink.At this rate she was going to have to fob her eight o’clock appointment off on someone else, lest she fall asleep mid-haircut and accidentally give the client a reverse mullet.
She set the phone back down and rolled onto her stomach, scrunching the pillow and curving her arms around it.After a couple of seconds her back began to ache, so she rolled onto her right side.Normally she preferred to sleep on her left side, but that meant facing Nash’s closed bedroom door, and even with her eyes shut that was distracting.
Annoyed and frustrated, she flopped onto her back and tried to think of something boring.The merry-go-round museum should’ve done the trick, even though it hadn’t been nearly as boring as she’d thought it would be.But thinking about the museum led to thinking about Nash, and how cute he’d looked studying all the antique carousel horses, somberly reading the plaques of each one.
Since thinking of Nash led to thoughts of sex, and how if she hadn’t cut him off she could’ve had some, and would even now be relaxed and satisfied from orgasms and sleeping like a baby.But she had cut him off, and so there would be no orgasms unless she gave them to herself.
She often used masturbation as sleep aid, something to allow her busy mind to quiet and her body to relax.Except Nash was sleeping only a dozen or so feet away, right on the other side of a closed door and a thin wall, and under those circumstances, rubbing one out seemed…well, rude, so she hadn’t.
But it was going on three in the morning, and she desperately needed sleep, and what Nash didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
So she wiggled out of her sleep shorts, tugged the tank top up over her breasts, spread her legs and laid her hand over her vulva.With pubic hair prickling her fingertips, she parted the soft outer lips to find the hot, damp flesh between.
She was wet, which wasn’t a shock.Between the missed orgasm in the shower this morning and spending the whole day with Nash, she’d expected wet.But she hadn’t expected soaked, and the discovery shocked a startled “Oh!”from her lips that sounded so abnormally loud in the middle-of-the-night dark that she froze.
She waited, heartbeat pounding in her ears, her hand still under the sheet.But Nash’s door didn’t open and no light appeared under the door, and after a long moment she relaxed again, breath sighing out in relief, and turned her focus back to her wet, hot pussy.
She spread her thighs wider, tenting the sheet over her knees, then impatiently kicked it off.Cool air met hot flesh, making her shiver, and her nipples tightened almost painfully.She shifted her free hand to her breasts, plucking and rubbing the sensitive tips, mimicking the stroke of her other hand below.
She glided her fingers over her clit, testing, and her hips jerked at the shock of sensation.She was so ready, wet and swollen and sensitive, and pleasure built fast and hard.
Within seconds she was panting, straining, hips rolling with the stroke of her fingertips, nipples tingling with sensation as she continued to play with them.But while the tension and the heat built, the orgasm remained frustratingly out of reach.
Exasperated, she shifted to apply direct pressure to her clit, hoping it would push her over the edge.She was so sensitive it was almost painful, and she held her breath in anticipation.
Nothing happened.
Impatient, she shifted gears, sliding her fingers lower to delve between slick folds to the empty hole that pulsed and twitched and ached with the need for release.It opened greedily for the thrust of her fingers, shivering with dark delight at the stretch of delicate tissues.She curved her fingers, searching for that soft, spongy spot along the front wall of her sheath.She found it easily, stroked eagerly.
And still nothing.
Squeezing her eyes closed in concentration, she fucked herself with frantic, almost desperate intensity.Her hand slapped wetly against her pussy, the heel hitting her clit on every stroke, but it wasn’t enough.She abandoned her nipples to work both hole and clit, hands moving together in a coordinated, wicked blur, fighting for release.
She arched upward, reaching, straining to get there.The orgasm was so close now that she could all but taste it, those first telltale tingles spreading out from her groin as the coil of tension wound tighter and tighter in her core.Her thighs tensed, her body shook.She held her breath, poised on the edge, rubbing and fucking furiously.Just…a little…more…
It didn’t register at first, the faint scraping noise, so focused was she on what was happening—or not happening—inside her.It was the muffled oath that had her eyes flying open.
Nash stood in the doorway of his bedroom, the light from his bedside lamp pale and golden behind him.Backlit as he was, she couldn’t see his face, but she knew—sheknew—he was watching her.That he was drinking in the sight of her, spread and sprawled on the mattress with her tank top rucked up above her tits and her thighs spread obscenely wide while her hands worked feverishly between.That he was hearing the slap of her hands on her pussy, the soft squelch of her fingers plunging deep.
Then he shifted, just slightly, his head now blocking the glow of the lamp.And his eyes were so bright, locked on hers and blazing with shock and lust and something so elemental and visceral raw that she went flying over the edge.
She cried out—no need to keep quiet now, and she couldn’t have anyway—her body jerking and spasming with the orgasm.Her blood roared in her ears, her muscles went stiff as it rolled through her, wave after wave of swamping, smothering pleasure, jolt after jolt of bone-rattling ecstasy.She was lost in it, helpless against it, open and vulnerable, stripped bare before him.
And he watched, eyes fierce, expression like stone, his gaze holding hers like a physical force she couldn’t look away from, and it happened again, harder and heavier than the first time.The sound that slipped from her lips was raw and ragged, dragged from her very depths, joy and pain, demand and surrender.
When it was over, when her muscles had stopped trembling and jerking and the lingering sparks of pleasure had faded, she lay limp and empty on the mattress.Sleep threatened, unwelcome now, and she fought it.But her mind was finally calm, her body at last sated, and the battle was lost.
The last thing she saw before her eyes slid closed and oblivion claimed her was his eyes, bright and fierce and bold and burning.For her.
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