I HEAR A KNOCK ON THE DOOR.
I stopped feeling the boiling water what must have been twenty minutes ago. Now, I sit on the hot tile, head tucked into my knees. At the sound of the knock, I look up.
"Hello?" comes the soft voice of Violetta-Angel. I don't even know what to call her. "Are you okay?"
I open my mouth. Water drips into it, and I taste the heat on my tongue. "I'm-no," I say. Why did I say that? I had meant to say I'm fine.
Through the sound of the shower, I don't hear her. For a few moments, I think she has left, disappeared to let me sit in misery, but then I hear another quiet call. "Is it okay if I come in?"
My heart stutters in my chest.
If she comes into the bathroom, she'll be able to see me. The shower wall is glass, and there is no curtain to hide me. I try to say No, I'm okay, but the words sit in my mouth. Heavy. Tasteless.
For the first time, in a long time, I think I might need-someone.
Which is why I call out softly, "Yes."
She can't see me while I'm tucked into my knees. My skin is probably red, scalded. But as I hear the soft click of the door unlock, I can't bring myself to care. I just want . . . what do I want?
I don't look up, but I know she must be approaching. When the shower door slides open, I finally glance up into her eyes. There is no judgement, no arrogance.
I've been stripped bare, my heart lying in her hands.
I don't know what I need, but it's that look in her eyes-like she sees me, like she understands-that makes me feel alive again.
"I'm sorry for wasting your water," I say.
She peels off her shirt and her pants, leaving her in only her bra and panties. For a moment I am confused as she reaches towards me, but it is only to turn off the shower.
"I'm sorry," I say again, and I feel tears choking me.
In one smooth movement, Angel locks her hands beneath my knees and my shoulders and pulls me into her arms, bridal-style. It's intimate, too intimate for someone I've only met three times, but I relax into her chest.
"What happened?" she says, bringing me back into the bedroom. Even though I am still dripping, she lays me onto her bed.
I shake my head. I've never told anyone about Nathan before. I'm not ready.
She nods in understanding. Even though she has let go of me, I feel a strange longing to be in her arms again. To rest my head against her chest.
She hasn't put her clothes back on, I realize.
I can't help but glance down to her breasts, and think that I could cup them in one hand. Through her lacy blue bralette, I can see the peak of her nipples. Standing on edge.
The thought makes me clench my legs together.
Before I can help it, I lean forward in one motion and crush my lips to hers.
She blinks at me, stunned, her lips unmoving for a second. Then she arches into the kiss, moaning into my mouth. For a moment, the entire world is her. I don't care who she is, what she is. I just taste her mouth, and it tastes like paradise.
I graze my fingers over her breasts. When she lets out a breath, I unclasp her bra and let it fall behind her. I move deeper into the kiss, dragging my hand down, down the smooth plane of her stomach.
I feel the tautness of her abs, the slender arch of her hips. When my fingers explore her thighs, I brush them inwards towards the apex. Just as I feel that shuddering heat, the wetness hidden there, Angel breaks the kiss and jerks back.
As though burned by my touch.
I blink at her for a moment, mouth open. The hot moisture building between my own legs is growing unbearable.
"No," she says roughly, dragging her fingers over her lips. "Not-not now. Not ever."
Red soaks into my cheeks, and I feel the familiar pull of anger. Good, this is good, I say, latching onto that fire, that fury. I wanted to feel something, and now I am.
But it's not the kind of anger that makes me want to yell. It's the kind of anger that comes from the heat radiating between my thighs, the kind that needs to be satisfied, now.
Embarrassment burns up my neck. Before she can say anything, I wrap myself in a blanket and leap out of her bed.
"F-fine," I stammer out, furious. The pulse is growing louder. I almost rub my legs together then and there, desperate for release.
I know I'll feel the humiliation later, but now, it's the thought of my own growing tension that has me storming out of her room.
Then I hear her call my name. For a moment, I hold the door open, back turned, wondering if . . . she doesn't regret it after all.
But I hear her say coldly, "Our flight leaves tomorrow at seven in the morning."
I slam the door behind me.
THE BATHTUB WATER IS COOLER than the shower was, but still hot enough that it pours over me like a living, breathing touch. My legs rest on either side of the tap, and the water rushes between my legs.
I writhe against the porcelain edge, trying to find that perfect spot-ah, ah. There. As the water deepens the pressure over my clit, I cover my mouth to stop the moan that builds.
I imagine the water is Angel's tongue, probing, probing deeper. She slips her tongue into my slit, and the thought alone is enough to leave me panting. I close my eyes, leaning my head back.
The thrust of the water between my thighs has me bucking against it. The pressure intensifies, and I can feel a climax gathering, tingling through my spine to my trembling hands.
I need to be quiet. A guard is outside my bedroom door, and if he hears me moaning, back arched against the tub, then-my face flushes at what would happen if Angel knew.
But I imagine it's her fingers that plunge into me, exploring the heat. My insides tighten, and I slip a second finger in, imagining it's hers. The water against my clit combines with the fullness of my hand and I start to shudder.
Release beckons, dragging an arch up my spine. My head dips back, and I feel a moan build in my throat. I use my other hand to cover my mouth, and as my hips thrash against my fingers, a climax pulses through me in raw desperation.
I ride the wave, digging my fingers deeper, letting the water caress that sensitive spot. My eyes roll back into my head, and I collapse against the bathtub. I duck my head underwater to keep from making a sound. Bubbles stream to the surface.
I come up for air, breathing hard. And I turn off the tap.
>>>
Hi!
So, as Chasing Her is Rated R, I thought I'd finally deliver on my promise. I figured y'all deserved a little smut.
It's only a sneak peek of what's to come though. Hang in there, and we'll see exactly how R-rated this can get.
A little reminder to please vote! Chasing Her is one my favourite things, and it takes a lot of work and dedication, so when you vote, it makes my day!
To the moon and back,
Sarai
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