Page 76 of Lost & Found

I hear another.

I also hear the unmistakable sound of what I can imagine to be a hand slamming against the wall.

I look back into the bathroom and even through the fog, I can make out his silhouette.

He’s holding himself up as he leans over with his other hand wrapped around his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunts a low guttural sound and heat pulses in my spine. Arousal pools in my core.

He’s jacking off in the shower.

I watch his movements as he pulls on his dick. His head is bent down like he’s in pain. I ache between my thighs. This is so wrong, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to. I take a few more steps, almost in the bathroom itself but the door is only cracked open a little bit.

I can hear him fastening his pumps and his breathing gets deeper as I hear him over the spray of the water.

I take one more step in, wanting to hear him make himself come. My shoulder knocks the door accidently, causing it to creek as it slides open further and instantly, Jax flips his head toward me.

“Shit,” I whisper but I think it came out louder than intended because he immediately turns off the water and I take zero seconds to bolt.

He fucking caught me.

I run down the stairs with as much poise as a hippo and this time, I don’t even care to collect my clothes as I book it into the garage and back to my car.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

twenty-seven

Hollis

Idon'tknowwhyI freaked. Maybe because I knew it was wrong to spy on someone while they got themself off in the freaking bathroom of their own house!

But fuck, when I heard him groan like that, knowing what he was doing. I can’t lie, I felt my own arousal start to surface but it was too embarrassing getting caught to hold on to it for long and the need to remove myself from his home was instant.

As I pull my car into my parking garage, I try to calm down the panic I’m feeling. Suddenly, it feels more than panic from being discovered watching someone as hot as Jax jerk off in the shower. It’s starting to feel more serious but it’s unexplainable. I don’t know where it could be coming from or why it’s starting to feel crowded.

I unbuckle my belt and rush into my apartment, hoping no one sees my rushed attempt to flee because I probably look like I’m doing a walk of shame…I kind of am. Once I get in and lock the door behind me, I sag against it and drop myself to the floor on my ass.

My hair is a mess. I’m still wearing Jaxon’s clothes, and my phone is dead. I think that’s where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t like me.

Sure, I love to let loose and have fun with my friends—I mean friend, singular. But I also know that resorting to this kind of irresponsible stature will result into me looking like a failure again—I’ll be disappointing my family.

Speaking of, I haven’t spoken to them in a few days and I know Mom is going to want me for dinner tomorrow night seeing as it’s Sunday and I promised her I’d do family dinner every Sunday since I’ve moved out.

But I can’t move, thinking about all of the things that unfolded over the course of my New Year/Birthday celebration and how I ended up in this exact position.

And Jax.

All the things we’d said and done. How I want more. All of it. I want the sexual things and the emotional things, despite how intense they may be. I’m starting to realize that spending any time at all with Jax has made me feel alive. And isn't that what I’ve been chasing this whole time?

After really thinking about everything that we’d said—everything I admitted—it feels like a bit of a fever dream. Did it really happen? Because it felt slightly easier than it was just thinking about it. I mean, I’d given myself full blown panic attacks just trying to imagine the way the conversation might go.

When I told him to leave a few months ago, I was so tempted to call up my therapist and ask to start up sessions again. And there’s nothing wrong with seeking additional help but I’d come so far to have to resort to that again.

But now knowing that he knows some of my story and I know his, part of me wonders what will come next. How does this change things? He told me it wouldn’t change anything I didn’t want it to, but I don’t know what that means to me. Part of me feels nervous to admit that I want so much more from him. Another part of me is also really scared. But he didn’t show any judgment. Instead, he gave me two of the best orgasms of my life and told me he was proud of me while also allowing me to take it all at my own pace. He was accepting and inviting. It’s a refreshing feeling I haven’t had the luxury of opening myself up to.

He gave that to me, for a brief fucking second, and everything felt healed and well. It felt real and powerful. And I still felt in control. Like Batman saving Gotham City. I am Gotham City, burning down from my demons and my enemies, enemies I might have even created within myself. And he is Batman.

“So fucking corny,”I roll my own eyes at my insanely cringe analogy, finally feeling relaxed enough to pick myself up off the floor.