25. Cohen

25

COHEN

I could feel her watching me. Still smell her scent on my fingertips. More than that, I could hear the little sounds she made on repeat in the back of my head. Which was why I jumped in the shower the moment I got home. Poured a hefty portion of soap on my palm and jerked off to the image of Emily pressed up against that closet door.

I could have had her. Right then and there and been done with it. With her. But like I said, it was about more than sex. I could walk out onto that street right now and find a tight pussy to grip my cock or a pair of plump lips to suck me down. Wouldn't take more than a few minutes. Or a couple of hundreds if I happened to be too lazy to play nice.

This. Her. It was about more than that. I was sure if I looked close enough, went deep enough with the research, I'd find this reaction I was having could be explained away as a chemical impulse, a mix of pheromones emitted from the body that sent my central nervous system into overdrive.

At the end of the day, Homo sapiens were animals, which included the most basic instinct to procreate. Or at the very least, trick our bodies into thinking that's what we were doing. When really it was just a quick fuck.

None of that mattered right now though. As I pumped a slick palm up and down my cock with the image of a certain woman in a too-short skirt playing like a film reel behind my lids. I could still smell her, long after the hot water had rinsed what was left of her away. I could only fantasize about what she tasted like. I'd resisted licking my fingers clean. Fearing that if I hadn't, I'd be breaking into her dorm room to find out… instead of slipping in through that window to snoop.

I didn't like how out of control she made me feel. At the same time, I craved it. Tugged at the leash holding me back. Hoping if I yanked a little harder it would finally snap.

One, two, three more strokes had my left palm pressing against the wall, my right hand and most of the drain covered in the evidence of what this woman did to me. It would look better on her lips. Her chest or fucked deep into her cunt while she cried for me to go harder. Or stop. Didn't matter as long as it was her voice I heard screaming one way or the other.

I woke up the next morning to the feel of a warm hand slipping under the waistband of my boxers. Reaching lower and grabbing my cock around the base. Before offering it a few long strokes. I could even feel the weight of her straddling my thighs.

My eyes sprung open only to see she was another figment of my overactive imagination, my own hand down my shorts and spread across my cock while my brain told me it was hers.

It didn't seem to matter how many times I jerked off to Emily's image. I wasn't satisfied. My body knew it wasn't the real thing.

I stretched my arms out before tucking them behind my head, my glare hyperfocused on the matte white of the colorless ceiling. Didn't remember even grabbing for it and couldn't tell you when I'd pulled up her number in my contacts but suddenly I was shooting off a message I had no recollection of typing out.

Me:

Wear a sundress today. That one with the white and blue flowers.

Me:

And don't forget a sweater. Daniels always has the air on full blast. Wouldn't want anyone else getting a peek at those pretty pink nipples.

Emily:

Who is this?

Me:

Don't pretend like you don't know, Emily.

The little bubbles popped up on the screen, telling me she was about to reply—likely typing something snarky before thinking better of it—then disappeared again.

So we're playing games, huh?

My lips curled into a grin. "You can run but you can't hide, pet."

I watched her from three rows down. The cap of her pen clasped between her teeth. Her hair pulled back in a high knot and that blue-and-white sundress hidden beneath a white sweater, sheer enough that I (and everyone else) could see through to her bra straps.

My girl was being bratty. Intentionally trying to get under my skin with that subtle hint of noncompliance. She knew what I wanted, what my instructions were, and yet I had no doubt she would play dumb.Attempt to make a case for herself. Of course it wouldn't work, which was probably what she really hoped for.

Emily liked being punished. Craved it without even realizing that was what she wanted.

I shouldn't give it to her. The best way to knock down her defenses was to completely ignore her little outburst. Make her thirst for the attention until she was on her knees begging me to look at her.

Problem was, I couldn't not look at her. If it were that easy, I wouldn't have bothered to spare her a glance from the get-go.

I waited until the lecture was over to push up from my seat and follow her out the door. If Emily knew I was behind her, she made no move to acknowledge me. Her hair brushing the back of her neck with the natural sway of her hips and her ass cheeks hugged by the fabric of her dress each time she pushed off her heel to propel herself forward.

Then she turned the corner, pivoting on her department store off-white sneakers and pinning me with a glare. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

I shoved my hands into my pockets with a slight shrug of my shoulders. "Nope."

"What about class, Cohen? You don't even go here anymore."

"Why would I go to class? What could they possibly teach me that I don't already know?"

"Maybe something about personal space…" she muttered under her breath, gasping when I grabbed her wrist. Yanked her forward and pressed her against the wall.

"It doesn't get more personal than this, babe," I whispered against the shell of her ear, smirking when my words had the desired effect.Emily clenched her thighs together, squeezing her eyes shut like she could somehow will me out of existence. So I tipped her chin up with my free hand. "It's okay to admit you want me, ya know."

"What I want… is to get as far away from you as humanly possible," she hissed.

"The only thing worse than lying to me is lying to yourself." I lifted a single eyebrow in challenge before dropping my grip on her wrist and stepping aside. "Nice dress, by the way…"