Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

D axton

I’ve got the scent of Harper all over my hands, her slick soaked into my pants and images of her coming singed into my retina.

I’m hard. Rock hard. Painfully hard.

I should strip off my clothes and step straight under the nearest shower and scrub myself clean, remove away the smell of temptation.

But, hell, I’m tired. My abilities to resist, to refrain, weak. I stride into my bedroom, slam shut the door and scream silently.

Then I unbuckle my belt, pull down my zipper and take my cock into my hand, groaning as I do.

I need release and it’s futile fighting it. I’ve been hard all evening and all night, ever since Harper’s plush little body landed flat on top of mine and reminded me just how good she felt lying there.

I close my eyes, remembering what it felt like to finger her, remembering how her pussy felt convulsing around my fingers – wet, warm and oh so soft.

I bring my right hand up to my nose, as I stroke my cock with my left. I inhale. Harper’s scent is so fucking strong it still lingers on my digits and I bring it closer to my nose, inhaling even deeper, the molecules of her scent scooting up my nose and down my throat, making everything buzz with excitement and energy.

How can anyone smell so damn good? How is it possible?

I wrap that hand around my cock, coating my shaft in that scent, the very idea of it making my cock twitch.

She turns me on so much.

Is it because I can’t have her? Is it because she’s something forbidden?

Is it because I had her once and it was the hottest, most erotic experience of my life?

I squeeze my eyes closed and try to remember what it felt like to fuck her. Flashes of memories flicker past my eyelids. Droplets of sweat between her tits. Goosebumps tracing over her skin. My grip tight on her waist. Her lip caught between her teeth. The quiver of her clit. The stiffening of her nipples. The rolls of her eyeballs beneath her eyelids.

It’s delicious. Intoxicating. A tease.

I want the real thing. Not pieces like this. I want her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me like I stroked her. Telling me she wants me back, whispering in that sweet voice of hers.

If my dad hadn’t come back at that moment, if her mom hadn’t arrived home, maybe I would have had a taste of the real thing. I curse them both. Curse this stupid, fucked-up situation.

Why is the only girl I want – the only girl I’ve ever really wanted, the only girl who has me hard when I shouldn’t be, close to coming in my pants like a teenager, jerking myself off in the middle of the day – the one I can’t have?

I stagger towards the wall, rubbing my fist up and down my shaft, grunting and groaning as I do. I brace myself against it. My brow is damp with sweat, my skin tingling with arousal.

I jerk myself harder, imagining I’m fucking her now. Hard. With all of my body. Legs pinned apart. Writhing and moaning beneath me.

My balls tighten, my core strains, and then I come, thick ribbons of spunk painting the wall. Wasted come that should be filling an omega’s pussy.

Pleasure ricochets through my body and I whisper her name. It’s like a prayer. Like a wish. One that’s going to go unanswered. One that won’t come true.

As my knot swells, I wrap my hands around the base of my cock. I squeeze against it, imitating the way her pussy would squeeze me tight. More pleasure swims through my body.

Fuck, fantasizing like this, jerking off like this, hasn’t felt so hot, so frantic, so desperate in a long, long time.

Fuck, but she has me wound so tightly. Like a coil.

Fuck, but I am doomed.

I roll against the wall, leaning against it. My breath comes in frantic pants.

I can’t have her. She doesn’t want me.

It hurts deep inside me. That same old ache, that same old injury, that never really went away. It’s always been there, aching away so that I’ve become accustomed to it. It’s like I hardly notice it’s there, occasionally tweaking, making me wince, making me stop in my tracks, making me gasp.

Despite that, I thought I’d be okay. I thought I could see her again and I’d be all right. She’d be different. We’d be different. The old spark, that same fire, it wouldn’t be there anymore. We’d meet again and I’d realize I’d glorified the days we spent together, bigged them up into something they weren’t. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the end to that ache in my heart.

Yeah, Daxton, you’re an idiot. Always an idiot when it comes to this girl.

A spark like that, a fire like that, it never dies.

And as for that ache deep inside my chest?

It’s back. It’s back with a vengeance.