Takedown Teague (Caged #1)(50)
Since Tria was going to be gone for a while, I jumped on the opportunity to head into the shower and take care of business. I’d always had pretty regular daily jerk-off sessions, and having Tria living with me had certainly made that a little difficult. Waking up spooning her every night didn’t help, either.
What also didn’t help were the images in my mind whenever I took my dick in my hand.
It wasn’t even a matter of trying to think about her; as soon as there was flesh-on-flesh, her face was in my mind. The chick from my favorite porno getting a spit roast no longer did a thing for me. I only thought of Tria’s eyes, Tria’s lips, and Tria’s body as I ran my hand up and down my shaft.
I closed my eyes as the water poured down my shoulders and back. I curled the fingers of my right hand around the base and dragged slowly up and over the tip, while the left hand reached down to cup my balls. In my mind, I lay her down on the bed and lifted one leg up over my shoulder before slowly sliding into her. Her head was pressed against the mattress, and her back arched as she moaned my name.
“Oh yeah,” I mumbled. “That’s it, baby. Take it…”
My hand moved faster over my shaft, and the Tria in my head moved rhythmically with my thrusts against the sheets. I could see my hand reaching to caress her breast, stroke the nipple, and pinch it. I thrust faster. Tria cried out again, and my legs shook as the buildup exploded over my hand before being washed away by the shower stream.
“Fuck,” I muttered. Even standing there in the shower, I felt like I needed a shower.
After I got myself back under control, I washed my hair, which didn’t take much since it was nice and short, thanks to a coupon for a haircut Tria found for me at the grocery store. I turned around a couple of times to get all the soap off of me, then turned off the water and climbed out.
The line of little bottles Tria had on the shower ledge called to me—I really wanted to know which one made her smell so good, but I restrained myself. Something about sniffing her shower products seemed pretty creepy—tempting, but creepy.
Back in the bedroom, I poked around in the bottom dresser drawer, trying to find some clean boxers. The pile of laundry in the corner was now being shoved into a laundry bag Tria brought from her old apartment, but the clothes were starting to hang out the top. Tria had her dirty clothes in a plastic laundry basket. Since I had done a crappy job of putting shit away after the last laundry trip, I couldn’t find any boxers and decided to just forget it.
I turned to grab my jeans, which were already laid out on the bed. At that exact moment, Tria turned the corner and walked into the room.
“Oh my God!” Tria screeched as she simultaneously covered her face with her hands, turned bright red, and tried to get back out of the room without seeing where she was going. She banged into the wall a bit but managed to get herself out of there.
I had to laugh, not just because the sight was pretty damn funny but also in relief. If I hadn’t just jacked off, the knowledge that she was looking at my dick would have probably brought him to attention pretty quickly.
Moody little bastard.
I pulled my jeans up and buttoned them. When I walked into the living room, Tria was on the couch with her head in her hands.
“I am so sorry!” she cried without looking up. “I didn’t know you were changing. I wasn’t trying to…to…”
“Tria, relax,” I said with another short laugh. “Fuck, Yolanda’s always walking in on me, and she doesn’t even have the decency to look away!”
“I just…I mean…I didn’t know you were…”
I walked around her and sat down on the other side. I had spent way too much time in the cage being mostly naked to really be concerned about any chick seeing my cock, and I didn’t want her to be upset about it. There was also that distinctly porn-influenced male side of me that just wanted to yank it out and let her get to know it really well so she would know for sure that being looked at didn’t bother me.
That line of thinking was going to have to change pretty quickly, refractory period be damned.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “Really. No big deal. Shit like that is bound to happen when you live with someone, right?
“You aren’t mad?” Tria asked as she peeked at me through her fingertips.
“Not at all,” I said. “I would have closed the door; I just didn’t realize you were back already.”
“I just got here,” she said, and I was relieved to hear it. Hopefully that meant she hadn’t heard me in the shower with my dick in my hand. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I repeated.
She dropped her hands but wouldn’t look in my direction. Her shoulders moved up and down a little as she tried to get herself together again. Eventually, she sighed heavily and then stood up.
“I’m going to make dinner,” she announced.
“Need any help?”
“No, I’m good.”
She went into the kitchen, and I just watched her. For the most part, we seemed to be comfortable living in the same space together, but there were definitely some things that caused a bit of tension. Tria kept her clean clothes in her suitcase, refusing all my offers to empty a couple of dresser drawers for her. It bugged me, partially because she was just so damn stubborn about it, but also because it made the whole arrangement seem more transient than I wanted to believe. Even in the short amount of time she had been there, I found myself enjoying the company. I had pretty much lived on my own since I left the house where I grew up, and having someone else around was pretty nice.