The Lakehouse

TEN | 10

When the door opens, Deon's first glance is at Joel, who's secretly licking his lips at me as he starts toward the stairs and they exchange looks almost as if they're sizing each other up.

I hear Joel ascending the second set of stairs to his loft and Deon turns to the left to look at me.

"You good?"

I wasn't expecting him to talk to me. So I was startled a little at his low words. But I nod my head, fixing my hair in a way that it doesn't look telling. "Yeah."

He looks like he wants to get closer, maybe to sit next to me? But he chooses the stairs instead and I'm now alone. It's quiet again. The empty plates on the table and dim lights in here remind me of what just happened.

"Tell me what you want and I promise, I'll give it all to you."

I replay Joel's words in the back of my mind and my pussy contracts involuntarily at the thought of what could've happened had Deon not showed up.

And fuck, I can't get over how soft Joel's lips are. How succulent and wet his tongue was, brushing up against mine in a fiery dance. His wandering hands make me feel good in all the right places.

The closeness of his body, in between my legs and the way he latched onto my hardened nipples had me feeling things... admitting things. And what I feel is that I want to explore more of him and I'm afraid to admit that I want to see where this goes.

But then there's Deon.

I can't forget how it felt to be wrapped up in his strong arms through last night's storm. And I want more of him, more of his body, too. I don't know, it's already weird, our relationship, our history.

Some parts of myself forbid me to wander past the line of innocent intimacy... and a lot of other parts want to.

I fight the urge to fantasize, my walls clenching and saturating at the thought of Joel and Deon. I'm overstimulated right now, that much is obvious.

"Fuck. Get a grip, Keyser," I whisper to myself, taking a moment to blow a sigh and stand to my feet. I grab our plates and cups, walking lightly to the kitchen.

I clean up a little and then I abandon the kitchen. Each step upstairs feels like a climb for me but I finally make it to the top. I get a towel from the hallway closet and move towards the bathroom so I can shower away everything that reminds me of Joel and Deon.

I strip down and turn the knob to the shower and step in, wincing as the cold water hits my skin. It slowly warms up but the chill stays with me. I need the scalding touch of water, the steam to envelop me, to hide me from the rest of this house.

I breathe out as the sound of the water relaxes me. Then I tilt my head back, letting the streams run through my hair, over my closed eyelids, washing away the sexual tension that runs through me. I shake off the thoughts, focusing on the droplets that spill down my body, tracing the curves of my breasts, streaming over my stomach and thighs. The sensation, which is usually a relief, is actually elevating my arousal.

I soap up my body automatically, imagining Joel's fingers doing the work. Tracing my lines and curves, massaging the soap in deep circles, then rinsing it off while watching me with those piercing green eyes of his. Suddenly, the image of Deon's face replaces Joel's. He's got the kind of face that screams danger, but in the most erotic way.

His every glance sends shivers down my spine and his touch... his touch is intense, more demanding, yet oddly gentle. I've only been here four days and after what's happened, I don't know how I'll survive this madness. My body aches for both of them and it's driving me insane.