The Bookworm's Guide to Flirting (The Bookworm's Guide 3)

But I could.

I could fucking hear her.

These headphones did not have fifteen percent battery.

These headphones were dead.

I pulled them from my head and tossed them aside. They bounced from the bed to the floor, and Saylor moaned again from the other side of the wall.

My cock was hard.

Hard enough that the only way to get rid of this was to wrap my hand around it and wank it out of me.

I needed to come.

Judging by the gasp from Saylor’s room, she needed to do the same.

Four months and it was the first time I’d heard her get herself off. I knew she had a vibrator because I’d happened upon it in the laundry basket, but hearing her…

It fucked me up.

“Ah!”

Gritting my teeth, I let my hand move down and under my boxers. My cock pulsated in my hand, and I used the wetness from the tip of my cock to lubricate the rest of it.

Closing my fingers around my hard cock felt so good. What I was doing was wrong. I knew that, but I couldn’t stop it. My dick had taken control of my brain, and there was no coming back from this.

I moved my hand. Pumped my cock up and down slowly. Ignoring the moans coming from her room was getting harder and harder. They were getting louder the closer she got to release and all I could picture was Saylor fucking her vibrator.

I needed ear plugs.

But I didn’t have any.

I gave myself over to it. Saylor’s moans were coming thick and fast, and I no longer had control over my imagination. My mind was solely focused on her.

The way she moaned.

The inflections in her voice as she vocalized her pleasure.

How it should have been me in that room with her, and not here, wanking like a fucking lonely loser.

Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes as I pumped my fist up and down my cock. I was getting close and I arched my neck, pressing my head back into the pillow.

I hated myself for this.

Saylor moaned louder as she hopefully reached her end, and I worked my cock harder. My body went stiff and my muscles taut as I reached the brink of my own orgasm, and thank fuck for my ears shutting her moaning off as I hit the end and hot cum coated my hand and my boxers.

I worked my cock for a moment longer, and when I rested, I was all too damn thankful to hear a silence from the other side of the wall.

Of course, self-resentment hit me hard.

Like a fucking boulder, actually.

I released my cock and sagged into the bed, finally opening my eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

Fuck.

It felt like I’d crossed a line.

A big, big fucking line. One that should have remained sacred. How was I going to look Saylor in the eye without remembering this? Without knowing what it sounded like when she came?

How could I look myself in the mirror?

This was a fucking disaster.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – SAYLOR

RULE THIRTEEN: STOP COMPARING FICTIONAL MEN TO REAL MEN. BOYS IN BOOKS ARE ALWAYS, ALWAYS BETTER.

Right.

I was going to do this.

My finger hovered over the trackpad of my laptop, but I hesitated to tap it.

Did I really want to do this?

Yes.

No.

It didn’t matter.

I didn’t have a choice. I had to do this. I could do this. I had to start making some better decisions in my life, and that was going to start today.

Because today wasn’t a Monday, and everyone knew that changes you made ‘starting on Monday’ never, ever stuck.

This would be hard, but I could do this.

I closed my eyes and tapped the trackpad.

“Hello and welcome to yoga for beginners!” burst out of my laptop speakers. “My name is Pippa, and I’ll be your instructor today!”

All right, so perhaps I’d been a little dramatic about it, but I didn’t like yoga. I didn’t like any form of exercise, and the few yoga sessions I’d done had been woefully lame.

But I was looking to get into some kind of routine. It was shameful that the seniors were fitter than I was, but I also wasn’t about to do cardio.

There was only one way I wanted to get hot and sweaty, and it wasn’t over burpees.

Right.

I cracked my knuckles and moved back into the area I’d cleared out for my session. My yoga mat was covered in dust from where it’d been living at the back of my closet for the past year.

The ill-attempted session not long after Dylan had moved in had been on a towel. I couldn’t remember where the yoga mat was, and I’d actually found it by accident yesterday when I was looking for batteries for my faithful old vibrator.

No. I had no idea why batteries would be in my closet, either, but I’d wanted to be thorough in my search.