A Leap in the Dark (The Assassins of Youth MC Book 2)(12)
Yet every centimeter of my skin was alive in the best sense, and I sped up my attention to my clit. This was where images, of sexy actors and other men I didn’t personally know, came into the picture. After seeing Magic Mike, lately it’d been Joe Manganiello. Imagine my shock when the face—and cut torso—of Levon Rockwell insinuated itself into my fantasies!
After the initial shock, though, I made a split-second decision to go with it. I was already riding high on the orgasmic roller coaster. Blood filled my pelvis, and that indescribably tense yearning was building in my uterus and thighs. I wasn’t going to let an image of some * ruin it for me, so I went with it, allowing my fantasy Levon to strip off his flimsy tee and exhibit his ripped abs.
Oh yeah. This was working better than Joe Manganiello, maybe because I’d recently seen Levon’s buff torso with my own eyes. My hypothalamus filling with oxytocin, getting ready to let the floodgates roar open, as Pretend Levon did a coy strip tease, sliding his palm over the stunning bulge in his too-tight jeans, and squeezing.
It was the squeezing that did it. Bang, I went off like a firecracker. My thighs shuddered with the sudden release, my hips shimmying in a wild dance. The image of Levon evaporated almost with a loud pop as I felt my eyeballs roll up into my skull. Contraction gave way to new contraction, each one stronger than the last.
It was always a challenge to my compromised brain to keep my fingers moving. I was like an epileptic with no control over my monumental muscle spasms. I was always surprised I didn’t swallow my tongue when an orgasm hit this strongly. That’s where it would’ve been nice to have a trained, outside person controlling the stimulation. It was a slippery slope to keep the action going while riding the tidal waves.
To make matters worse, Deloy was talking to someone in the living room. He was probably just on the phone, but it was a distraction that instantly lessened the impact of my wild ride. Then, to add insult to injury, he opened my door without knocking first! He must’ve stood there for a full thirty seconds staring at me. Thirty seconds doesn’t sound like a long time when you’re not trying to ride a bucking bronco. I wanted to scream “Go away!” but that would’ve diminished my ecstasy even more.
He finally shut the door quietly, but the damage was done. I was stuck unable to coax any more bliss from the climax that had been cut short. Any interruption at all always ruined the fine balance I’d built up. And a dorky kid who was probably a * virgin watching like a voyeur, well, that put a giant damper on it.
I almost cried with frustration. It had been good, but it could have been better. I pulled my hand angrily from my sweats and wiped it off on my leg. Who the hell cared? I hadn’t brought enough clothes to last another day in this backwater burg. I’d have to borrow some clothes from Mahalia just to meet her for a drink at The High Dive. And she still hadn’t returned my text!
Since I had the master bathroom, I peed and washed my hands, pouting the whole while. Back in the bedroom, I smashed my phone back onto the windowsill and sighed at the gorgeous view. How could I be so miserable in God’s country? Dark grey clouds backed the splendid wedding cake vista of the flaming buttes, lit up in the blaze of the setting sun.
And now I’d fantasized about Levon Rockwell! It was like those dreams you have about making out with a co-worker, someone you’d never remotely fantasized about before. Suddenly you see him walking down the hall and you hide from him, convinced that he knows! That’s how I’d feel seeing Levon again, if I ever saw him, and I was glad he was safely up in Bountiful, and I’d be going back—
Wait. Who exactly was Deloy talking to in the living room? I put my ear to the door and listened. It was easier to hear Deloy’s words because his voice was clear, high, and cheerleader clear.
“So you stand behind my decision? It’d make me ever so happy to know I had you on my side.”
“Of course I stand behind you, Deloy,” said Levon Rockwell. Levon. Rockwell. In the flesh. “What sort of a boss would I be if I tried to stop you from bettering your life? A good boss has his employees’ best interests at heart.”
“Oh, I am so glad! And you know what? You’re welcome to come here and visit any time you want. I’ll see if I can keep an open room for you, depending on how many other Lost Boys join me here.”
“Well, I got to be honest, Deloy. I hope not too many other boys join you, because then I’d be out of work, too. And I’m here because I’ve got a wild hare to do some investing down here.”
“Investing? Ooh, do tell. There are all kinds of business possibilities down here. The Assassins of Youth practically run the Chamber of Commerce.”
After that, I sort of stopped listening. Levon Rockwell, apparently the star of my wildest fantasies, was standing not fifteen feet away on the other side of my door.
Son of a motherless goat, as Mahalia always said.
Then who had busted into my room, leering at me while I came?
Okay. Okay. Okay. Get a grip. I had to go out there nonchalantly and see if anyone said anything. Then I could laugh it off lightly. But first, I was going to put on a better shirt. Who cared if it was the sweater I had worn to Liberty Temple—
“Oaklyn?” Levon was rapping on my door. “Are you decent?”
Hell no I wasn’t decent! I was standing there in my bra, a sweatshirt in one hand, a dirty sweater in the other! “Hang on,” I called, and whipped the sweater over my head. I ran my fingers through my thick brown hair and shook it out as best I could. I grabbed my phone and leaned casually on the window frame, as though lost in the intricacies of a vital text. “Come in!”