Page 27 of Platinum Pressure

“You can fight it all you want to, baby girl. In a year or two from now, when you meet me at the altar, I’m gon’ mention this conversation.”

My heart nearly stopped. He said literally five minutes ago no one he’s dated made him feel like he could spend the rest of his life with them, yet here he was planning to meet me at the altar in a few years like it was normal.

“We can call it a day. You did great. I’m going to make notes for your medical record. Since your stitches are officially out and you’re moving with ease independently, you can start regular showers. Do you need my help today while you adjust to no shower chair?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve helped you with your showers for damn near three months now. I wrapped your leg and make sure you get to the chair safely. Now you not a fan of my help?”

“I hear you, but things have changed, and I’m a man with . . . needs. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable while I handle what I have to do. Since I can shower without the brace and wrap now, I got some tension I need to release.”

He ran a hand down his head and scratched the back of his neck as he let out a soft chuckle to fill the awkward silence.

“Oh!” I yelped in surprise.

“Yeah . . .”

I pushed the tingling feeling out of my gut and tried to lighten the mood.

“Say no more. You handle your business and just call me if you need help.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, he raised an eyebrow and pulled his sexy-ass lips into a smirk. “Help with what?”

“Wait! Not that.” I covered my face as he let out an amused chuckle.

“I know. I just like to see you flustered. It’s cute.”

“Whatever. Ready?”

He nodded. I grabbed his crutches and helped him stand on his feet. We walked back into the house and made our way back to the living room. I removed the compression wrap and examined the scars.

“Don’t forget to moisturize when you’re done.”

“Fa sho.”

I gathered his towel, boxers, and shorts. I held them out for him as he stood and made his way to the downstairs bathroom. I waited until he was situated before I walked out of the bathroom and made my way back to my living quarters.

Unfortunately, visuals of what Platinum looked like while he beat his meat coursed through my mind. It was stupid. I had no business fantasizing about what he did in the privacy of his bathroom. Yet my mind toyed with the idea of which hand he used when he stroked himself and the motions he used to get to his orgasm.

My pussy throbbed. I let out a frustrated breath and went over to my suitcase. I grabbed the small electronic device shaped like a rose and put it on the charger. I needed to release some of the tension in my core, because this man infiltrated my thoughts despite my adamant protests.

Platinum. Fucking. Jones.

What the hell are you doing to me?

“Man, fuck!” I exclaimed to myself as I released another stream of nut down the drain.

Cold showers weren’t cutting it, and I was tired of beating my dick. I hadn’t beat my dick this much since middle school when I discovered porn for the first time. Once high school hit and I became popular, I had more than enough pussy thrown at me to never need to use my hand—until recently.

Meadow fucked my head up. Since the surgery was a success, and I wasn’t swallowing pills as much as I was in the beginning, my body craved sex. I needed to be balls deep in some pussy as soon as possible. I needed a distraction from Meadow. Her presence over the last two weeks had become unbearable for me. I wanted her badly, both intimately and sexually. It was like as soon as they removed my stitches and set me free from the crutches, my dick awakened like I’d never felt before.

Meadow attracted my whole being.

My heart wanted her.

My soul wanted her.

My dick wanted her.