Just for a Little While

Laughter echoed through the screen door out back, pulling me from the depressing thoughts that I couldn’t chase away. I dropped my bag at the steps and walked down the hall to make sure all was well. I didn’t speed up just to see her. It was to make sure a rave wasn’t destroying my barely used backyard.

Not ready to announce my presence, I stood back a bit from the window and almost swallowed my tongue.

The two blondes from her work splashed around in the pool, and another girl and guy I didn’t know sat on the edge talking to Arabella and fucking Xander. Arabella hunched over, gripping the ledge, looking to be about two seconds away from her breasts spilling out of the tiny scraps of fabric. The top was more string than anything else. The black triangles stood out, stark against her pale skin, making the material look even smaller.

Fuck me. If I’d stumbled upon her like this pre-battle, I’d assume she wore that bathing suit to torture me more. But she’d stopped the past few days, and I knew she wore that suit for her. I refused to think she wore it for Xander.

Her smirk firmly in place, I knew the Instagram version of Arabella sat out there, and I hated it. I hated the way every man, including me, stopped to stare at her breasts swaying when she reached an arm up to brush her hair back. I hated the way Xander bumped his shoulder to hers and leaned in to say something close to her ear.

I hated how fake I knew it was. I hated it all.

Grabbing a beer, I cracked it open and made my way out.

“Dr. Deander,” one of the blonde’s shouted. “Are you coming to swim, too?”

“As much as I appreciate the offer, I’ll leave the pool to you guys.”

“Boo,” she pouted. “I was hoping to have a partner to play chicken with.”

“Sorry to let you down. Maybe next time.”

The false offer settled her enough to give her attention back to the other blonde, leaving me to shift my attention to Arabella.

For one moment, I saw the girl from before. I saw the clenched jaw. I saw the spark of obstinance like she wanted to do something to lay claim to me in front of her coworker, but just as quick, she shut it down, giving me the same neutral smile she gave everyone else at the pool.

“Thanks for letting us use your pool, Dr. Deander,” Xander said.

“Of course.”

Xander poked Arabella in the ribs, making a joke about being her partner in chicken, his eyes glued to her swaying breasts. It took all I had to not call him on it and demanded she put on a shirt.

I hated that she flirted back. I hated that she didn’t taunt me. Unlike the mature adult I claimed to be, jealousy sparked. I wanted her to show me she wanted me because, despite it being wrong, I couldn’t stop wanting her.

We’d connected on a level I hadn’t seen coming and watching her flirt with someone else was too much.

With a muttered offer to let me know if they needed anything, I went inside, grabbing another beer on my way. Once I changed, I headed to my office, the one room without any windows looking into the backyard and shut the door to block out any sound.

I pulled up emails, watched a show on Netflix, googled tickets to fly to a remote island and forget the last couple of months. None of it helped, and after only a couple hours, I found myself making my way downstairs again. I promised I’d run down to grab a beer and head back up.

All that went to shit when I rounded the corner to the kitchen and found her standing in front of the sink, her back to me, the bottom of her bikini just as revealing as the top. The firm globes of her ass almost completely bare, firm like a ripe peach I wanted to fall to my knees and sink my teeth into. So pale I wanted to have her bend over, brace her hands on the counter, and spank her for each time I’d had to jack off over the last few weeks, just so I could watch the red bloom beautifully against her skin.

As if my body had enough of my mind holding back, it moved without thought to her, like a moth to a flame. She was so focused on what she was doing she didn’t notice my approach until I caged her in, my hands resting on the counter on either side of her, my body inches from pressing into hers.

She gasped and looked to the side, her soft hair brushing across my face. Leaning in closer until my lips almost touched her ear, I asked, “Where’s your boy toy?”