SIXTEEN
Jordan
A man can only jack off so many times before the memory of his obsession is no longer an adequate substitute for the real thing.
Something about a woman when she wears your clothes … damn.
I slam my hand down and switch the shower off with a sigh. I said I’d give her tonight and, goddamn it, it’s the least I can do. She went into this thinking it was a bit of fun. Little does she know I’ve planned it for years.
I fell in love with Corinne the day she offered to pour Chase and I a drink one particularly hot spring after school. I thought I’d hit the jackpot, finding friendship when most kids shied away from me. But damn, I knew I’d struck gold when I saw her beaming smile.
I watched her, never understanding why I was fascinated with the girl with the golden hair. She made me feel something I wasn’t used to: emotion. I actually felt. Mom and Dad? They provided, but they never taught me much about anything when it came to how to deal with the feelings that tumbled inside of me. Crying was forbidden in our house—a sign of weakness—and love was shown with material things, rather than anything as basic as a goddamn hug, or heaven help them, praise.
I was rewarded with three solid meals a day and a roof over my head. I don’t disrespect what my parents did to provide me with that, one little bit. But when I saw Corinne, when I heard her laugh? I knew there was more to life. I knew I’d been missing out.
Darkness settled over the house an hour ago, yet I opt to keep the lights off as I wander through to my office with only my towel to keep me modest.
Why dress when I’ll be in bed naked later anyway?
I followed Corinne through college and into her career with completely different intentions to those I hold now. Sure, I wanted to make her mine. But I also wanted her to suffer.
I planned to ruin her. Same as she ruined me when she laughed at my invite out one Friday night, and then started dating that douche, Aden, when she got to college.
She broke my heart after showing it how to love, and I planned on tearing hers to shreds in reply.
But that smile. She gave it to her friend across that goddamn bar, and the whole plan went to hell. Nine years of planning, and suddenly I was fifteen and dumbstruck all over again.
Have a little fun, I reasoned with myself. Fulfill my fantasies on the road to ruin, I justified.
Just don’t fall in love again.
Might have been easier to do if I’d ever actually fallen out of it.
The glow of my monitor casts an eerie glow over the desk as I bring up Corinne’s Facebook page. The little indicator shows she was active almost a day ago, which brings me some satisfaction. It means she’s clearly still thinking of me—in whatever capacity—if she hasn’t sought out idle entertainment. Her mind is too busy.
My cursor hovers over her albums, and like the goddamn fool I am, I click through to her videos. Her laughter fills the room, the sound warmth on an otherwise cool evening. I watch as she dances across the screen, flitting in and out of shot while she interacts with the person taking the video. Her hair floats around her as she moves, the golden locks framing her face as she smiles wide and utterly carefree.
I study each clip with the same self-flagellating fascination, my dick growing harder by the minute. Every expression, every laugh and smile, every time I get a glimpse of those curves … that ass … one more time can’t hurt.
Maybe I’m a little sick, and a whole lot perverted, sitting at my desk jacking off to shared videos of the woman I’m obsessed with. I’m pretty sure her goddamn brother has locked people up for similar invasions of privacy, but hell, the videos are there to watch. Who’s to judge how I use them?
I ease the towel undone as I take my dick in my other hand. The clip ends, so I hit replay and run my palm up the length of my cock with a moan.
She’s going to be mine. She’ll stay with me, even if she hates it to start with. Given a little time I can show her heaven, prove to her that there’s no other place to be but by my side.
My movements quicken as Corinne dances to some cheesy tune, laughing as she shakes her hips side-to-side. My cock thickens, my fist punishing as my balls draw tight. So fucking close. To having her, and to finding release one last time before I turn in for the night.
That smile.
That ass.
That goddamn woman.
I come with a grunt, the warm jets painting my stomach as the goddamn doorbell chimes throughout the house.
Who the fuck?
Jaw tight, I wipe myself off with the edge of the towel while I navigate to my security app with my clean hand. Goddamn, Chase.
I stand, pulling the towel from beneath me and wipe the last of the cum from my stomach. My dick is still semi-hard as I head for the door, butt naked.
Who am I to give a fuck? It’s my house. He’s a friend, albeit an old one. We’re both men comfortable with our sexuality.
Fuck—we’ve seen each other naked in the change rooms before.
“Bit late for a visit, isn’t it?” I stand with the edge of the door covering my softening dick.
“Do you need a moment to take care of yourself?” He lifts an eyebrow at my state of undress, folder clutched to his side.
“Just did. But thanks anyway.”
He sighs, shaking his head as he pushes inside.
“Come on in,” I jest, closing the door behind him.
He wanders through to the living room while I head for at least a pair of boxers. I’ll sort the towel in my office later.
“Something you wanted to add to what you said earlier?” I call out.
“Yeah.”
I tug the cotton over my legs, and adjust myself before heading back to the living room. “I’m all ears.”
“I told her everything.” He holds my gaze, daring me to challenge him.
“Good,” I state indifferently. “Saves me doing it.”
He drops the file on the coffee table with a loud whack.
“How did she take it?” I cave. I need to know.
“Surprisingly well.”
Good girl.
“Didn’t even put up an argument when I told her to stay the fuck away from you from now on.”
Goddamn it. Why did he have to go and do that? “Is that so?”
“That, right there.” He points to the folder on the table. “You might want to take a look at it. If you think you can blackmail me with our history, you better check again.” Asshole makes a line for the door. “Stay the fuck away from my sister, Jordan. Don’t test how serious I am about this, because if you thought it was a goddamn miracle that I pulled to save your ass, then you better buckle up when I show you how I can ruin you.”
The front door slams behind him, much the same as my fist slams into the lamp on the side table. The ceramic base shatters when it hits the floor, the remnants left strewn for my cleaner to sort out in a couple of days while I settle into the armchair with the folder he left behind.
My hands shake as I turn the pages, but not with fear or worry.
With rage.
Every goddamn dollar I’ve paid to keep him quiet all these years has been promptly redirected to no less than ten charities. The file comes complete with statements showing my total donations for each tax year, all the necessary paperwork to write this off. He’s made it look as though he was the go-between for my philanthropic endeavors.
Fucking sneaky devil.
I should have looked a little deeper when he seemed to roll over too easily. I should have questioned why, after all this time, he didn’t drive a better car, or spoil his wife with a larger house.
I figured it was purely because showmanship was only for the field, when it came to Chase. But maybe I had him pegged wrong all these years? Damn it. He’s a lawyer. I should have known nothing would be as it seemed at face value with him.
He’s played me, and goddamn won.
I spent a decade setting up my own downfall. How beautifully tragic is that?