It can’t wait.
She was so close today. The feeling of her fingers in his hair and over his body. They’re lingering on him. He’s dying for release.
The door to his apartment slams shut and he kicks off his shoes. He doesn’t even bother taking off his necktie as he drops onto the couch, unzipping, remembering the shape of her hips as she fell back into him weeks ago.
Thandi.
He’s so stupidly in love with her. Every little touch sends him spiraling. They flirt. They play. She calls him darling, makes him food.
His guilt freezes him midstroke. Is he a pet to her?
Thandi…
He wouldn’t mind. Not at all. If he could live with just what she gave him now, he’d still be happy. Especially when she pets him. Oh, he loves that. She’ll be teasing him and her hands touch his chest, his back, his stomach.
He wishes, just once, her hands would venture lower.
Thandi!
His hips rise and he gasps at the feeling of near-release. Just a little more.
Remember how soft she is, how kind, how doting. Remember that gentle way she smiles when he’s down. Her fingers in his hair. Tangling. Grabbing. Her voice. What sorts of noises would she make?
It doesn’t matter as long as it’s his name coming from her. She’d say it and kiss him with everything she’s got. Does she think of him? Does she remember that fall, his hands on her waist, holding her to him for that short moment? Does she think about touching his hair, kissing him?
I love you, Thandi!
Charlie catches his breath and slumps. Of course he does. Of course he loves her. There’s no world where he isn’t hopelessly in love with Thandi, he’s sure of it.
