[18+] - CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Traumatized by life and grief-stricken, a young ex-soldier returns to his hometown hellbent on pursuing the woman he loves - a woman who is now someone else's fiancée.
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When she was fourteen, Love Johnson wrote a lett...
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He pumped his fist over the hardened length of his cock. His forehead was pressed against the tiled wall with one hand flat on its surface. The shower water cascaded down his wet body as thoughts of Love washed him with ecstasy.
She looked like temptation wrapped in his shirt. He wanted to unwrap her, taste the delicacies of her skin that the thin material hid underneath. He had been so close to throwing himself on her that ignoring her was the only thing he could do.
The tension between them had escalated during the trip. The more they became close, the more he wanted to have her entirely. His thoughts had gone from being gentlemanly to nothing close to gentlemanly. Letting her escape from his fingers was his biggest regret. Now, she possessed him — body and heart.
"Fuck..." he growled out, his hand working faster over his cock as his belly tightened.
Her face, her body, her lips...he wanted those over him. How he imagined those lips around his cock, sucking him slow and sweet, then harder as he spilled inside her mouth...
His orgasm crashed in a frenzy, weakening his knees. His breath became wild as he collapsed against the wall. His body had a red flush of embarrassment. He had never jerked off to her thoughts before. He had tried to maintain that last bit of civility his mind would allow him but today, seeing her in his shirt after he had just finished reading her innocent letter, drove him mad.
He washed himself off with doubts clouding his mind. The relief he had had was much needed and it would have been better if she was the one providing it.
But she was still someone else's. Even if he loved her, he couldn't have her. He didn't want it to be just an affair. He wanted to be her lover forever.
Turning the shower off, he used his towel to pat his body and hair dry. He then wrapped the towel around his waist, as tightly as he could, when he realized that he had forgotten to bring his clothes in a hurry.
He stepped out of the bathroom, going still in his tracks when he found Love looking right at him. Her cheeks were wet with tear stains, her lips shook and in her hand, she was holding the thing that he held the closest to him.
The letter
He stood there as if frozen in time, an ice-statue waiting for her to melt him.
"Love," he said her name, more like moaned it in pain.
"You kept this? All these years?" she asked, clutching the letter to her chest like it was precious to her too. "Why?"
His throat went dry at her question. Why? He himself didn't know the answer to that. All he knew was that she was carrying his home with her. That letter was what bridged the distance between him and Scarlet Hill.
"It's home," he blurted out, feeling alien to his own voice.
"Home?"
The nod he gave her was so slow that perhaps she didn't see it at all because the furrowed look on her face only deepened. He erased the distance between them with some steps. She looked up, meeting his eyes with her soft brown ones.
