Cole got up to check on the restaurant for his friend, and when he came back, we left. We didn’t touch on the way out. We didn’t need to.
I was already imagining him over me, sliding inside, thrusting and pulling back, only to go deep once more, stretching me. The ache between my legs wasn’t going to go away.
The drive was the same. I didn’t see the scenery. I could only concentrate on his hand. He positioned it on his leg, half turned up. Maybe it was there for me to hold if I chose. A part of me was glad he didn’t put his hand on my leg. The other part of me wanted nothing more. And when my mind continued its play-by-play of what would happen once we got to my place, it got to be too much. So I tried to change my thoughts.
Sia.
That picture of her and Jake at the hockey game flashed
