We slip into the back of the hotel, away from the main lobby. There’s an elevator down the hall, and before too long, it’s depositing us on our floor. Silently, I let us into our shared room, grateful for the quiet. The problem is the moment I see the bed, I want to do way more than enjoy the quiet. All I want to do is tear up the sheets and listen to Lena moan. I’m already getting hard again, a combination of recalling what she sounded like when I slid inside her and wondering if she still makes those same throaty little moans of pleasure.
I set Oliver’s carrier on the couch, careful to conceal what’s going on in my groin area. I’m starting to throb, too much time spent in a single hotel room with the woman of my dreams with nothing but my imagination to conjure up every dirty fantasy I’ve ever had starring the one and only, Lena Stanley.
“I can take care of changing him,” she says behind me. “I know you’re probably anxious for a shower.”
She has no idea…
“Uhh, thanks. Yeah, I think I’ll jump in there quick. We don’t have too much time before we need to get downstairs.”
“I’ll start to pack up what’s left after he’s had dinner.”
I’m already heading over to my bag, to the change of clothes I left out for after the race. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it when I’m done. Most of it’s mine or Oliver’s shit anyway,” I add, grabbing my stuff and heading for the shower.
I need some alone time. Time away from her scent. Time away from her smile. Time away from the way she cares for my son. It’s causing my brain to imagine all sorts of scenarios where she stays at the end of her time here.
I divert my own attention from the sexy woman in my hotel room by thinking about the race, dissecting everything from the start to the finish. Honestly, I’ve been doing a lot of it since I got out of the car. I’ll continue to do it tonight, even after I’ve gone to bed. That’s part of the reason I had occasionally taken advantage of a release afterward. The adrenaline, the excitement, the frustration all coursing through me, begging to be let out.
Only now, there’s no release.
Except the one I’ll find with my hand.
I haven’t sought out a woman since Renee.
Why? I guess it just felt wrong. Not because we did anything wrong, but my head just wasn’t in the right place. She was always just a call away, but that road went both ways. There were a few times mixed in when she called me too. I was convenient, a friend, and I didn’t mind being that for her, because we both knew there’d be nothing more. Right or wrong, we made our choices, and I’ll never regret them, especially when Oliver was the result. But even if she had lived, if the stroke hadn’t taken her life way too young, there’d have been no future for us. We weren’t destined to spend the rest of our lives together in any other way than co-parenting.
The water is as hot as I can stand, which is a step below scalding. I welcome the burn as it beats against my skin. I press my forearms against the shower wall, the water pelting me on the back. The tension starts to ease, but not completely. Not in my cock. It’s still hard and pulsing, anxious for release. I should turn the water to cold, but I don’t. I can’t.
Instead, I reach down and take my rigid cock in my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. A shudder sweeps through my blood as a low groan slides effortlessly from my lips. Closing my eyes, I let my imagination run wild as I slowly start to stroke myself. I can picture so vividly, Lena standing directly in front of me, those plump fuck-me lips painted red, the color of sin. Her green eyes gaze up at me, half-lidded and unfocused. It reminds me of how she looked lying in bed, post-orgasm.
She’s wearing a T-shirt of mine and nothing else. Personally, I’d take her that way over any piece of lingerie on the market. There’s nothing sexier than a confident, beautiful woman wearing her man’s shirt. Fuck, it looks amazing hanging seductively off one shoulder and hitting just about mid-thigh.
My hand strokes a little faster as she whispers, “I can’t wait to taste you.”
With her eyes locked on mine, she drops to her knees directly in front of me and unzips my pants. She tugs them down, my cock heavy and hard and so fucking grateful to be freed from its denim confines.
Lena licks her lips as her hand wraps around the base of my dick, beads of precum sliding down the tip. Her pink tongue slips out and glides along the head, shockwaves of pure pleasure sweeping through my body.
“Fuck,” I reply, my hand continuing to stroke faster and harder as my fantasy plays out behind my closed eyelids.
She moves, my cock sliding into her warm, wet mouth, taking me as deep as she can, her eyes still locked on mine. The trust, the lust, the excitement shines in those emerald eyes as she bobs her head, increasing the suction around my dick.
I feel the familiar tingle at the base of my spine, and I know the end is near. So I focus on the fantasy, on the way her mouth brings me nothing but pleasure, those familiar eyes gazing up at me, watching as I start to come. The reality isn’t nearly as good as what I’m imagining, so I keep my eyes screwed closed tight and pretend I’m not fucking my hand. I picture her.
I want Lena.
But this is going to have to do, at least
