Page 4 of Seven Days
“No one can see me,” I flip the camera around for her so she sees what I see. “And he’s out golfing, I’m here alone.”
“That’s a sexy view.”
“Right? I can’t believe he lives here all alone.”
“He’s a plastic surgeon, right? I doubt he spends much time alone.”
A weird feeling hits my chest as she makes the insinuation about him bringing women home. It must be the champagne getting to me.
“Probably. I hope he doesn’t bring anyone around while I’m here. I don’t need reminders that other people are in happy relationships, fuck buddy-ships, or even casual one night stands.”
“Bright side, you don’t have to fake orgasms anymore.”
I cackle. “So true. I just break out my vibe, orgasm, and go on about my day now. It’s not a whole production.”
“This is why we’re besties. Always reminding each other about the silver linings.” She looks off to the side and nods her head at someone. “Bri, I have to go, but maybe you should come out here for a few weeks. Get out of California, some distance. You’ll love DC.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it. I want to regroup with Dad first. Maybe after that.”
“Okay, sounds good. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I set my phone down and decide to swim a few lazy laps. It feels good to move, even though I’m sluggish from all the alcohol. As I start to get winded , I flip onto my back, just floating as the sun beats down on my naked body. I stay like that until I start to feel myself drifting off.
I should probably get out anyway, I don’t need Thomas coming home to find me naked in his pool. The thought of it does make me wonder what he would do. Would he be upset? Would he be turned on? That’s a ridiculous thought. He has spent his life surgically sculpting women into perfect bodies. He’d probably look at me, be appalled, and start imagining all the ways he could improve my figure.
It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with me. This body is my mom’s legacy and I embrace it. I love the way my body curves and my soft belly, just like all the women from that side of my family. But living in LA seriously fucks with your concept of a normal, healthy body. Trevor didn’t help in that regard, either.
Swimming over to the side, I lift myself out. I really should have looked for a towel before jumping in the pool. I don’t want to track water into the house, so I lay out on one of the lounge chairs to air dry. My eyes drift shut as the warmth of the sun seeps into me, lulling me into a deep sleep, filled with flashes of strong hands and thrusting bodies.
I jerk awake at the sound of a car horn in the distance. The skin on my back feels tight as I roll onto my side and I can feel the dry stinging of a mild burn with the movement. My eyes widen as I realize it’s nearly dark outside, but I relax a bit when I see the lights are still off in the house, and the door from the living to the pool deck is still open like I left it.
Chills race over my skin from the cooling night air as I race to pick up my belongings and the discarded champagne bottle before darting into the house. I set the bottle on the counter and head down the hall to the guest room Thomas said I could stay in.
The room is as sterile as the rest of the house. Whoever decorated this place needs to figure out how to incorporate color. Everything is white, except for sparse pops of navy in the bedding and a painting on the wall.
The en suite bathroom is beautiful, but as bland as everything else. Marble lines the floor and walls, and the gold veins in the stone are highlighted by the contemporary gold fixtures. The towels are plush and navy, pulling the theme from the bedroom into the bathroom.
Finding a mirror, I turn and look at my back, wincing at the burn turning my backside reddish-pink from its usual bronze. I decide a cool shower would be beneficial, so I step under the rain shower head and leave the water as cold as I can handle. Usually, I prefer lava hot temperatures so this is extra uncomfortable.My mind wanders to my dream as I wash my hair and body quickly using the travel-size toiletry bottles already in the shower. I haven’t had a dream in ages, let alone a sex dream. It’s odd that I would have one now, on the night that I found out my fiancé was cheating on me. Must have been the champagne.
By the time I step out of the shower and dry off, I still haven’t heard Thomas return and the sky out the window is nearly dark, with only the tiniest bit of pink lingering over the Pacific. I check the closet and drawers to see if there are any clothes I can borrow but everything is depressingly empty.
With nothing else to do, I pull down the cool covers and climb onto the bed. My mind keeps falling into the trap of thinking about Trevor and it’s driving me crazy. I’m so aggravated seeing his face and replaying memories. What would really piss him off to see me doing right now?
I could masturbate. Nothing offended him more than when I would get myself off. The more I sit with the idea, the more I love it. He never made me come, and while I faked it for him, he did realize that I could get myself off much faster and easier than he could.
Letting my mind go back to the bits I remember of the dream earlier, I recall the beautiful hands with weathered skin and long, elegant fingers. I bet they’d feel incredible tracing my curves. I ghost my fingertips through the valley of my breasts and then along the bottom swell and back to my nipples, squirming as I tease them, focusing on the pleasure of the light touches.
I keep teasing my breasts as heat builds in my core. Pressing my thighs together, I arch my back off the bed as I run my hands down my belly to my center. I’m already wet, picturing those mystery hands teasing my slit and I run my fingers along the bare skin of my pussy before rubbing a light circle over my clit.
My breaths come faster as I imagine being filled by the faceless man from my dreams, and I let my legs fall open, increasing my pressure and speed. I bite down on my lip as I whimper, the edge of my orgasm inching closer and closer.
I imagine my legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusts into me with hard, fast strokes, saying my name in a voice that seems familiar, gruff and stern. While his hips continue to pump into me, I look into his green eyes and call out Thomas’ name name as I come, my pussy fluttering around my drenched fingers
3
THOMAS