Chapter 7

Pierce

She's been at the computer for hours and I've watched for just as long. I've only taken a break to go home and eat. It seems she never tires. I'd only just got returned when something interesting happens.

She's still writing, and I can tell she's writing something she's very into. Sometimes she takes brief breaks to stretch and then makes a giddy little noise of excitement.

Those are the moments I sink a little further into the wood I'm plastered to.

She's breathing heavily, fidgeting in her seat every so often, and I wonder what's going on inside her manuscript that has her wiggling so damn much. It's infuriating, watching, and not knowing.

The first chance I get, I'm going to hack into that fucking thing and read whatever it is she's writing. Something has her pressing her thighs together, and I want to know what it is. She leans back and pulls her hair off her neck, flipping it over onto the other shoulder. The action gives me a beautiful view of her neck and the rouge flush on her cheeks.

Oh, little ember. You sinful little minx, what are you up to?

Finally, she snaps the laptop shut and sits back in her chair. She closes her eyes and lets a few breaths pass her beautiful lips before she stands and adjusts her pants some. Grabbing her dishes from earlier, she makes her way out of the room.

Now, this is the part I hate. Having to find where she's going to go next. Because even though I know she's going towards the kitchen, by the time I get there, she could be gone again.

I move as silently as I can. The only times I make noise is when I want to. Toying with her has become a pleasure of mine that I never knew I could get high off of.

As I'm stepping out of the small exit that leads into what used to be a drawing room, I hear the shower turn on in the hall bathroom. Even though there's a bath in the principal bedroom she's occupying, it has a bathtub and not a shower. It seems she needs more than a dip in the hot water tonight.

The bathroom she's chosen has a hidden passageway, and I take only a moment to thank whoever built these infernal things again before slipping back inside the walls and making my way there.

And when I get there, the show has already begun. The curtain is sheer, barely concealing her from anyone that wants to watch. She lets the water cascade through her bright red locks momentarily as she breathes out sighs of relief. The chair she's been sitting in can't be comfortable. Though I've never sat in it even once, she's spent hours on hours inside the damned thing.

I make a mental note to sneak a new one in while she's sleeping.

But as I'm making said internal note, her hand slips down her torso, foregoing a simple touch or two here or there, and getting right to the source of the reason she came into this room.

Please, God, let her do it.

She doesn't hesitate for even a moment. Her hand slips over her clit, swirling as an unbridled moan rips from her throat. She sounds like a bobcat readying to strike, and my cock lifts and smushes into the wood before me.

I press my face as close as I can get to the wall.

She grinds on her hand, but a groan of frustration leaves her next, and she lets her leg fall off the side of the tub with a scoff. What her hand is dishing out isn't enough.

Both of my hands lift above my head, my pelvis grinding into the wall, cock rubbing against my jeans and giving me friction. I shudder, imagining that I'm what she needs. And that's why she's upset. That's why she can't satisfy herself.

My breathing halts as her eyes land on just the thing that could help her.

Oh fuck, please.

I lick my lips as she lifts on tiptoe to unhook the shower head from above. She toys with the settings and water temperature for a moment before letting it swirl around both nipples, sampling the pressure.

"Fuck," she whimpers as she moves it in a straight line down her torso, and without thinking, I release my button. Tugging my zipper down, I free my dick and let it fall heavy into my hand.

When the shower head reaches its destination, her moan covers my grunt of approval.

"Oh fuck, yes. Right there," she cries out, and I pump myself, having to pull away from the wood so as not to get a splinter in my cock.

That'd be a fucking story.

Her other hand disappears below the shower head, and another alluring, throaty whimper escapes as fingers disappear within her cunt.

Fuck, she's going to kill me.

Her back is against the wall, legs bent enough for her to continue to fuck herself in two different ways. And I wish I was either one of them right now.

Her hips begin grinding, clit dragging over the spray of the water from the shower.

Her moans are running together as nears the climax she came in here to give herself. My body begs for release, but I'm not coming until she does.

She goes first.

I grit my teeth, unable to stop fucking my fist, but incapable of leaving her behind in this race toward bliss.

"God, yes! Fuck! You're going to make me come!" she whines, and I nearly lose it.

I hang on by a thread as she finally breaks. The only evidence her body is shaking is the shower curtain's vibrations as her voice grows horse with shouts of pleasure.

"Fuck," I grunt, cum exploding from my dick and painting the wall in front of me.

I know I was too loud. I know she could've heard me. But there was no way to keep quiet. Not with what she and I had just shared.

And I know, now, there's no fucking way she and I aren't meeting. Even if she runs away screaming.

Because I love a fucking chase.

And she's going to be the best one I've ever experienced in my life.

I just know it.

When I finally come to and look back out the hole at her, she's peering out of the shower curtain. "Hello?"

Her breathing is full of fear instead of the soothing sounds of a woman filled with the aftereffects of rapture.

I shrug as I stuff myself back in my pants.

I can work with fear.