Page 42 of House of Scarlett
Fuck.I need to take the edge off.
Closing the door carefully behind me, and leaving it open a crack so I can hear if Scarlett yells, I drop my duffel on the counter and strip in the all-white tile bathroom before reaching into the stall to flip on the hot water.
I should be jumping in a cold shower to knock the punch out of my hard-on, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not when letting the thing stay untended isn’t going to do anyone any good. If nothing else, it’s going to cause more trouble than it’s worth. So I don’t think twice about sliding the glass door shut and soaking up the heat.
And if I groan when I wrap my hand around my dick, I’ll just have to pray it’s not too fucking loud.
Twenty-Four
Scarlett
Chip Gaines’slaugh jolts me awake, and I look around the room, trying to figure out where the hell I am. I blink twice at the TV, and it takes that long for my brain to start working again.I’m at home. In my bed. Watching HGTV.
The scent of steamed rice and pot stickers hanging in the room successfully jogs my memory.
Gabriel is here. You had the blandest stuff on your favorite Chinese takeout menu for dinner because it seemed like the best choice.
Which means ... Gabriel is still here somewhere?
“Gabriel?” I say his name quietly, expecting him to pop into my room immediately, but he doesn’t.
Did he leave? Maybe he was only staying until I fell asleep?No. No, he wouldn’t do that. He said he’d be here. He brought a bag.
With something akin to panic racing through my veins, I toss off the blankets and crawl out of bed. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I know I should have stayed where I was, but I have to know.Did he leave?
Moving slowly, I pad out into the kitchen and living room, but there’s no sign of him. The Chinese food is gone too. There’s not even a crumpled takeout bag on the counter to signal that it was here at all.
I take two more steps toward the sink, and that’s when I hear water running in the guest bathroom.
See? He’s here.He’s not like your dad. He won’t leave you alone.
I pretend I don’t know where that thought came from, but this whole emergency surgery situation is really stirring up the abandonment issues I worked through for years with my non-sex-therapy therapist. Not to be confused with the sex therapist who my ex sent me to because he said there was something wrong with me.
That still stings, but the flare of heat that ignites low in my belly as I peek through the crack Gabriel left in the bathroom doorway tells me that there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with me except I was with the wrong person. Becauseho-ly hell.
I jerk my head back, not believing I just saw what I just saw.
No, Scarlett. Don’t look again. It’s rude. Horrible. Awful. You’d be mortified if he did it to you.
And yet that doesn’t stop me from peering through the thin gap that may as well have been left there by God himself, because I’m witnessing a freaking miracle.
Thank you, Lord, for pushing me to choose the non-frosted glass shower doors.
Because I have a crystal-clear view of Gabriel braced with his left hand on the white subway tile of the shower, and the other ...sweet Jesus.The other hand is stroking his long, hard cock over and over as his hips and ass move with the rhythm.
It’s the most carnal sight I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
My nipples peak against my robe, and molten heat burns through me. If I were a different kind of woman, who hadn’t just been in surgery barely over twenty-four hours ago, I would have dropped my robe where I stood and slipped into the shower behind him.
I can picture it so vividly as imaginary me presses her breasts to his back and reaches around to slide my hand under his, so he can use my palm instead.
Oh God.Another surge of heat hits me like someone opened a blast furnace when his head dips even lower and his movements turn rougher.
My mouth waters at the way he tugs at his cock, and I envision myself sliding around his body and dropping to my knees in front of him to take it down my throat. I’ve never won any major accolades for giving blow jobs, and my interest in deep-throating has always been nil, but right now, I’ve got the urge to sharpen those skills.
My knees go weak, and I grab the doorjamb to stop myself from falling. It must have been the movement, or maybe my tiny squeak, but something catches Gabriel’s attention, and his head turns in my direction. His eyes go wide and he jerks back.
“No. God. Don’t stop.” It’s not until he turns to face me completely, his hand still stroking his cock, that I realize I spoke those words out loud, andhe heard them.
