Page 96 of The Recovery Coach
Fuck.No.Absolutely not.
He pulled his hand off his dick long enough to fish in his pocket for his phone and scroll to the nudes Tiffany had sent earlier in the week.She did have fantastic boobs.Livy had that right.
Hazy pulled down his sweats enough to free his dick.He squirted a pump of lotion from the counter into his palm and slicked it over himself.Focusing on the picture of one of his favorite hookups, he stroked himself.And stroked.And stroked.
And got more frustrated.His attention drifted to the bathtub.He could almost hear the noises his best friend would make as she came.They would be quiet and needy.Her cheeks would flush.Her nipples would be hard little pebbles begging to be tweaked.
Pressure built at the base of his spine.His balls tightened.
Wait.No.Not Livy.Tiffany.
He forced his attention to his phone screen.The woman he could have.The appropriate choice for this activity.The orgasm that had been so close slipped further away.
He glanced at the bathtub.He could fit in there with her.If he found her like that, beautiful and pent-up, would she invite him to join her?Would she let him kiss and lick and suck every sensitive spot on her body until she saw stars?He fucking hoped so.
He abandoned his phone.Tiffany’s fake tits were great.He didn’t want them.The moment he gave in and leaned into the fantasy, his orgasm barreled through him.He bit a knuckle to keep from crying out as his cock pulsed in his hand, leaving him a sticky mess.
The relief of his release lasted about three seconds.He’d jerked it to the thought of Livy using his good water pressure to get herself off.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Lover’s face floated through his mind as he rinsed cum off his hand and softening dick.
He’d jerked it to hisbest friend’s girlfriend.How could he ever look either of them in the eye again?He leaned against the bathroom door and slid to the ground.Pressing his palms into his eyes, he took a deep breath.It would be okay.They’d never know.He could keep this to himself.It would never happen again.
Except it might happen again.Becoming captivated by her beauty and curious about her body was turning into a habit.One he needed to quit immediately.
He scrambled to his feet and located the phone he’d tossed away amid his indiscretion.He fired off a text.
Dinner tomorrow?
It was after two in the morning, but the reply came instantly.
Tiffany
Can’t wait.*heart emoji*
Chapter 32
Olivia
Oliviawokealoneonthe couch with an awful taste in her mouth.She rubbed crusted drool off her cheek as she padded to the kitchen and turned on the faucet.Leaning over the sink, she drank from the tap.
She’d had no intention of getting drunk the previous night.Despite the grogginess and throbbing head, she smiled.She loved that Connor was willing to drop whatever his evening plans had been to give her a spa day.
Thankful she could take an entire day to recover from a night of ill-advised drinking, she popped two ibuprofen, then brushed her teeth and got dressed before tackling her new hair.She sat at the desk in her room and ran a brush through her hair.Connor had styled it beautifully the night before.Or so she thought.In the daylight she realized it was possible she’d thought it looked good because by the time he finished she’d been under the influence of too much rum.
The color was beautiful.But it stuck out weird in some places, and the bangs were a hot mess.Olivia found her curling iron in the kitchen and brought it to her room.Apparently, her plans for the day were to clean up their mess.But first, she would style her hair again instead of panicking about it.That was the rational thing to do.
She spent twenty minutes curling it.To her relief, it came out decent.Except the bangs.No matter what she did, they lay wonky on her forehead.After fiddling with the wispy strands for far too long, she decided to ask for help.If anyone could get them to cooperate, Connor could.
Olivia knocked on his bedroom door, and when he didn’t answer, she let herself in.Connor wasn’t in bed, or the bathroom.The clock on his bedside table read one pm.He’d been at the rink for hours.
She sighed and pinned her hair out of her face with a hair clip they’d abandoned in his bathroom.
Olivia rolled the sleeves of Connor’s sweatshirt and set to work cleaning the messes they’d left throughout the house.Beauty products and stained towels covered every surface of his bathroom.She’d been right.His bathroom had pink streaks all over the place.Pink dye still sat in one spot on the toilet.She wiped it away and covered the spot with bleach cleaning solution, but the porcelain would never be the same.They hadn’t swept the hair they’d cut off in the kitchen.Her styling tools and products were strewn about the table.In the living room, empty glasses littered the end tables, and a box of crackers had spilled on the couch.
It took her two hours to bring the house to acceptable living conditions.
