Four
1476 Words
Olivia Westview
"That is some batshit crazy stuff, girl!" Sharkeisha yelled over the phone. I could almost see her eyes widening, her head tilted back as she lay sprawled in her bed, barely containing her laughter.
"Yeah, tell me about it!" I sighed, slumping back onto my bed. I could feel the weight of the entire situation pressing down on me, and Sharkeisha's reaction only made it worse. "I don’t even know how I’m going to handle this tomorrow."
Sharkeisha let out a loud, infectious laugh that echoed through the phone. “Girl, I gotta give it to you. I betcha could handle him alright. Yo' h0e ass handled his d1ck last night so well, girl!”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “That is not funny, Keish!”
“My bad, my bad,” Sharkeisha said between giggles. “But it’s hella funny, girl! I’m just sittin’ here, picturin’ you in that bathroom stall, and then boom—next thing you know, he’s your boss! C’mon, you gotta admit, that’s some straight-up movie-level s**t right there!”
I rolled my eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, yeah. It’s hilarious. Just not what I need right now.”
"Girl, you always be turnin' the craziest s**t into somethin' manageable. Like, you got magic or somethin'." Her voice softened. "You can handle this, Liv. Just face it head-on, and you'll be straight."
“Thanks, Keish.”
"Anytime, girl. Don't forget, you're a whole vibe, even if you did get a li'l too close to yo' boss in dat bathroom. You got this!" Sharkeisha said. "Good luck tomorrow. And hey, don't choke!"
“Will do. Thanks for being there,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
“Of course! Now go get some rest. Tomorrow is gonna be a LONG and HARD day." She laughed. "Good night, Liv. Luvya!”
“Good night, Sharkeisha.”
Tossing my phone onto the bed, I tried to close my eyes and find some semblance of sleep. But my mind wouldn’t quiet. The anxiety that had been bubbling all evening churned relentlessly. I grabbed my phone again and unlocked it, mindlessly scrolling through social media as a distraction.
In a haze of sleeplessness, I found myself searching for Sinclair Industries Philadelphia. The search results revealed a sleek, high-rise office building with glass facades and a modern, polished look. The company seemed impressive, but it was the next link that really caught my attention.
James Sinclair.
Hesitation gnawed at me, but curiosity got the better of me. I tapped on his personal profile, the screen loading slowly as if to tease me. When the image finally appeared, my breath hitched.
The profile picture was a sunlit beach scene. James was in the foreground, casually leaning against a beach bar, his open-button polo revealing a jaw-dropping display of his physique. The hard planes of his muscled chest, adorned with a light smattering of hair, were strikingly defined. His abs were perfectly sculpted, each muscle sharply outlined in the warm glow of the sun. His smirk was confident, almost smug, but undeniably attractive. The image conveyed a relaxed, almost effortless charisma that was as intense as it was alluring.
I bit my lip, feeling a pang of frustration as my thoughts ran wild. Yeah, I was right—he was buffed and ripped. Of course, he was.
Gosh! Why was I even looking at this?
This was ridiculous. I was torturing myself over something I couldn’t control, and it was driving me crazy.
With a sigh, I threw my phone onto the bed, letting it bounce once before it settled among the pillows.
I padded to the bathroom, the cold tiles biting at my bare feet as I turned on the shower. I adjusted the temperature, waiting for the water to warm up while I caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, and my eyes were heavy with exhaustion and distress. I sighed, shaking my head at the sight. This wasn’t how I had envisioned my night.
The water roared to life, filling the room with the soothing sound of cascading droplets. I stepped into the shower, the initial shock of the hot water quickly melting away into a relaxing embrace. The steam began to envelop me, wrapping around my body like a comforting blanket. I closed my eyes, hoping it would rinse away some of the turmoil still swirling in my mind.
But my mind refused to quiet. The image of James’s profile picture resurfaced, unbidden. I replayed the scene in my head, trying to shake off the memory of his chiseled physique and the way his smirk seemed to linger in my thoughts. The hot water felt good against my skin, but it did little to quell the restless anxiety gnawing at me.
No matter how hard I tried to push James out of my brain, I couldn't. He was just there, staring at me with his big, majestic, blue eyes. Accusing me of wanting him. Of lusting over him. Needing his thickness inside my vag1na.
Fvck it!
I couldn't take it anymore. Without thinking, I grabbed my electric toothbrush and removed the bristle attachment.
My eyes rolled to the back of my skull so hard I saw my brain. The vibrations in my hand felt divine as I pressed the head of my electric toothbrush against my pvssy. A shiver ran its course through my body as I remembered that night at the bar.
Weak on my knees, I propped my hand out against the wall to brace myself. My mouth was open, and I was drooling senseless, squatting low as I stood naked under the shower head. It was a good thing the water was running, else, my Mum would have heard me moan like a cow in heat.
Oh, James. Fvck me, James. Fvck me good with that thick c0ck of yours.
The water running down in rivulets all over my skin did nothing to quell the burning heat of lvst raging in my flesh. I ventured my makeshift wand lower, just so it could touch my entrance, and heavens forbid, my face went sideways and upwards at once. I was wet between my legs, and not just because of the shower. This was a different kind of wet, I could tell as it dripped down my thighs from my blooming pvssy. Warm, slippery, and slightly thicker than water.
After that tiny wave of spasm ran through me, I lowered my gaze, and I was treated to the sight of my throbbing womanhood. The b1tch was redder than an apple. Well, it was more like the color plum, but my lust-driven mind could not care less. Itching to feel more, I ditched the toothbrush. The thing flopped on the floor like it was some kind of fish out of water. Then, I delved inside my hole.
You should not be doing this, Liv. A small voice inside my head persisted. However, there was something about James that I could not quite place my finger on.
And speaking of fingers...
Another finger inside me was enough to elicit another moan from my lips. I threw my head back, my wet hair sticking to my face, as I made hooking movements with my fingers inside my pvssy. I could have sworn there was a squelching sound as my vag!na clenched tighter. Delight, or whatever that giddy and indescribable feeling was, flooded my being. I was burning like a star. Nothing could satiate the fire blazing from my core as I fantasized about him.
James fvcking Sinclair.
I could almost imagine him underneath me, his warm, wet, and thick tongue wreaking havoc on my vulva. Prodding my v@gina. Fingers rubbing my s3x, delving. Digging. Like he lost his car keys in there. I fantasized about him exploring my depths. Ripping me apart with his girth, his thickness. Tearing me to pieces with his strong hands. Licking me like I was the last drop of ice cream in the tub on a hot summer day.
"I AM COMING!" I yelled with all the might left in my weakened body as my org@sm ripped through me. There were no words to describe it. Imagine a fire hydrant exploding. I squirted as though I was a geyser in my past life. My body trembled. No. It shook. The hand bracing me against the wall gave out. The very foundations of my being crumbled as I succumbed to my knees on the wet tile floor. I was hyperventilating. I was drowning, even with all the air around me. My hot, pulsing face found relief on the coolness of the bathroom floor.
And then, unbidden, my senses came back to me.
What the hell did I just do?
- Writer
