“I… um… came back this morning.” I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck, unsure why since I’m the one caught staring at her tits. “She probably didn’t tell you because she was too busy sucking face with that scrawny geek she’s seeing. I didn’t mean to startle you back there. I’m sleeping on the couch tonight because our bed hasn’t arrived at our new place yet.”
“Are you back here for good?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Not one-hundred percent sure, but in the meantime, I wanted to get some practical experience alongside my dad at the hospital. Plus, Samantha got a job at the gallery not too far from here, so yeah, I guess it keeps everyone happy,” I explain, though not convincingly.
Charlotte nods, but then silence falls between us. Each time she avoids my stare, it allows me to examine her features more. Everything is so perfect—the warm color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, and the soft pink lips she doesn’t realize she is biting.
“I better head back to bed.” Charlotte hops off the stool, a little unsteady on her feet. “Adriana is making us go prom dress shopping tomorrow morning. What are the chances of her battery being tampered with, so the car won’t start?”
“That’s right, I forgot you aren’t related to Donatella Versace like my sister claims she is.” I grin.
My sister is a true pain in the ass, a diva as such. How she managed to convince my parents to convert a guest bedroom into a second wardrobe for her is beyond me. She doesn’t even work, so I don’t understand where she gets the money from because Dad can be tight. Clearly, Mom isn’t.
Charlotte walks back to the stairs, but then she stops to turn around.
“It was nice seeing you again, Alex.” She takes a few steps before stopping and turning around one more time. “And congratulations on your wedding. Adriana told me it was amazing.”
And just like that, she disappears up the stairs leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I rub my face with my hands, trying to ignore whatever the fuck this weird sensation is spreading all over my body. So, she wasn’t wearing a bra. All the women I watch in porn don’t wear bras either—big fucking deal.
Then why can’t you get her out of your head?
Suddenly, sleeping in the living room is less appealing. I need to be alone.
Back in my room, I choose to ignore the uncomfortable springs on my bed and turn off the light. The memory of Charlotte’s innocent eyes and bare chest causes a stir inside my sweats. I toss and turn, trying to ignore the urge but it’s begging me to pay attention.
No one has to know, just picture something else.
I wrap my hands around my cock, trying to picture Samantha down on her knees sucking my cock. The thought does nothing.
Then I see Charlotte’s wide stare and the way she bites her lip. Each stroke sends a warm sensation across all of my body, and it takes me less than a minute to blow. My back arches into the mattress as my breathing is ragged.
Fuck, what have I done? Imagining another woman, an eighteen-year-old. Not just that, my sister’s best friend.
Grabbing a tissue to wipe the cum off my stomach, I then dump the tissue into the trash can.
It’s just a momentary lapse, that’s it. I’ve done nothing wrong.
I eventually fall asleep but wake up at the crack of dawn. Charlotte’s the first thing that comes to my mind. I can’t see her again, not until I control whatever the fuck my dick was doing last night. It doesn’t mean though, I can’t help her with the problem of my psychotic sister.
Quickly, I get changed, brush my teeth, and then run downstairs to see Mom already in the kitchen.
“Good morning, Alex,” she greets, prompting me to sit down and eat. I glance at the time knowing my sister will be asleep for at least another two hours. “Sleep well?”
“Sort of,” I mumble.
Mom’s gaze focuses on me with a worried expression. “Is everything okay?”
“Just a lot on, you know. Samantha is just too much to handle right now.”
“Marriage is hard, Alex. It’s not always perfect. She moved here per your wishes so maybe you need to be patient with her.”
My head tilts with annoyance. “Did she tell you to say that?”
“No, Alex. Just a mother’s observations.”
I bite into a piece of toast, then drink the coffee Mom poured. My eyes keep glancing toward the stairs, reliving last night.