12. Cohen

This woman, in my room, just felt right. Yeah, it sucked I couldn't show her a good time tonight, but something about being around her electrified me in a way I hadn't felt for a long, long time. I didn't want her to think I was just some loser who wanted to hit it and quit it.

I wanted to get to know her. So I looked away from how adorable she was in that T-shirt and gestured at the TV. The home screen showed a comedy Ollie wouldn't watch with me because the actor was too old and lame. But he'd used a word I didn't even understand to call the actor lame. Maybe I was the lame one. "Are you okay with this one?" I asked.

"It's great."

She seemed honest, so I said, "Good."

I was about to press play when I noticed her hesitation. She looked from me to the empty side of the bed and said, "Are you sure about this?"

How sure I was might have scared her. So I gave her what I hoped was an easy smile and said, "It's a movie, Bird. Watch it with me?" I hadn't meant to use a nickname for her, but it came so easily. I hoped it wasn't too familiar.

She smiled and lifted up the comforter. I wondered what she thought of the beige color Ollie had helped me pick. Or the extra pillows I kept on my bed so it wouldn't feel so empty at night.

She slid underneath the comforter, pulling it up over her chest, and situated herself on four of the pillows. She looked so at home it made my chest swell. "Comfortable?" I asked.

There was that shy smile again. She nodded, looking at the TV, and I took that as my sign to press play.

We were only a couple of feet away, but I wished we could cuddle. That might have been what I missed the most about a serious relationship—the time to just lie and be with each other.

Birdie giggled, and I realized I had missed the joke. I chuckled softly at myself and sat back, relaxing. Even though we weren't right next to each other, it felt good to have her here.

Ollie and I watched movies on the couch sometimes, but it had been a while. I made a mental note to ask him to hit Waldo's Diner with me for a milkshake this week and maybe catch an early movie one night if he had enough time with all that homework the Academy gave him.

I glanced over at the woman lying next to me and realized she had fallen asleep. It had been so long since a woman had slept over, but never had one this beautiful been in my bed. Her curly hair fanned around her heart-shaped face, and her luscious lips were slightly parted.

She seemed right at home amongst my many pillows, and the realization brought a smile to my face. When we woke up, I'd ask her out to breakfast, see if we could get to know each other better. Because even though the night started out looking like things would be hot and heavy, there was something natural about being around her. Something quirky about her that I wanted to know more about.

I had hoped we would watch the movie together, talking over the audio, but she was clearly exhausted. Maybe from work? Or her breakup. Why any guy would leave her, I had no idea. I hated her ex, and I didn't even know him. But I did know the way he made her cry, and it made me sick to my stomach. Not because I hadn't gotten laid, but because the pain had been so clear on her face.

She shifted, and I froze, not wanting to wake her up. She rolled in the pillows, her shirt riding up and the comforter slipping down, giving me a view of red lacy panties.

I bent at the force of my reaction. Holy fuck.

Feeling restless, and damn, I'll admit it, horny as hell, I rolled out of the bed and walked to the kitchen, cleaning up the drinks we'd had earlier and washing the cups in the sink. That distraction didn't quite work, so I grabbed the watering can and gave the multitudes of Ollie's houseplants a drink. He would take care of them Monday, but he'd asked me to water once over the weekend, and I promised I would.

As I looked around, I wondered what Birdie had thought of the place. There weren't too many personal effects in place—Ollie's mom had been the one who always printed and framed most of our photos.

Maybe I should see if Steve's wife knew a photographer, no matter how awkward just the thought of a photoshoot made me feel.

When I finished cleaning up, that mental picture of Birdie in my shirt and those panties sent my dick to attention.

I thought about going to the couch, but Birdie had said I could lie next to her. That she would stay on her side of the bed. And the couch... Ollie picked it out. He said it looked good, but damn was it a backbreaker.

I didn't want to be a creep though. With the way my dick responded to her, I'd be dry-humping her the second I fell asleep.

I couldn't stop thinking about her in my bed and the ways I wanted to make her scream.

My dick twitched.

A cold shower. That was what I needed.

I went to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes and looking myself in the mirror. Thank fuck manscaping had become a habit because an ass like Birdie's deserved the best. My cock stood at attention, and instinctually, I took it in my fist, pumping once, twice.

It didn't come close to what she would feel like around my cock. But just the thought of thrusting into her thick folds made my dick throb.

Cold shower, I reminded myself. Cold fucking shower.

I reached over and turned the water on, adding only a little heat, and then I stepped in, not even waiting for the water to warm up.

The cold shocked my system, and I flexed against it.

But then all my fucking teenage brain could think about was what it would be like to have her in this shower, the water running down her body, dripping from her full breasts. I wanted to take a nipple in my mouth and suck until I heard her moan. Run my hands over her wet skin and take her here, water pouring over us as I did.

Cold water or not, I was hard, and this fucking boner wasn't going away.

I took my cock in my hand, closing my eyes and imagining the moisture there was hers. But I wouldn't go straight for her pussy. No, I'd make her feel good. I'd run my tongue along her slit and taste her. I'd lick her bud until she shuddered on my mouth.

Her head would fall back, that long curly hair grazing the swell of her luscious ass. Eating her out from behind was sounding better by the fucking second.

But her ass wasn't the only thing I wanted. Her tits looked amazing in that dress, the fabric pulling them together and forming a deep cleavage I wanted rubbed against my cock.

And her lips, the thought of those lips on mine. On my dick. Going deeper down her throat.

I fisted myself harder, bracing myself against the cool shower tile.

Fuck cold showers.

I turned the knob hotter, pumping my cock as steam rose around me, imagining what her body would feel like pressed against mine. What her voice would sound like saying my name.

And I came.

I came so fucking hard just at the thought of her.

Completely spent, I washed away my come and another layer of skin, feeling a little guilty about fucking myself while she was in the next room. Someday, if I got a chance, I'd tell her how crazy she drove me just by being herself.

With my clothes on and my body completely spent, I went to the couch in the living room and lay down.

I couldn't wait until the morning when I could see her first smile of the day. And then I'd take her to breakfast and do what I could to give myself a chance with her. Because if I was being honest, I was tired of being alone.