I imagine that it's Caulter whispering in my ear: "Your pussy is so slick and warm, so damn tight, the way it squeezes my cock."
It's imagining his dirty talk that pushes me over the edge, and I come quickly, my muscles clenching down around the toy. I bite my lip, cutting off the cry of pleasure that escapes, and lying back with my head on the pillow as the fluttering of my muscles slowly subsides.
I'm still so wrapped up in my thoughts about Caulter that the knock on the door makes me jump. Shit, shit, shit. Sliding the vibrator from between my legs and stuffing it underneath the pillow, I yank my pants up. I already know it's not my father, who retreats to his office working late after dinner, regardless of what day it is. When I reach the door, my heart is still thumping loudly in my chest.
"Evening, sis." Caulter stands in front of the door with a smirk on his face, and my heart sinks. I immediately stick my foot out to prevent the door from swinging open further, and cross my arms in front of my chest.
"What do you want?" My heartbeat feels practically deafening to me, matching the throbbing between my legs, a reminder of what I was just doing and who exactly I was thinking about a minute ago.
"Am I interrupting?" he asks. How long has he been standing there? I picture him outside my door, listening to me as I get off, and I'm mortified. "You look flushed. I hope you're not getting a fever."
Oh my God, he totally heard me. If I weren't flushed when I answered the door, I sure as hell was now. "I'm feeling fine. But thanks for your concern," I say, my voice sarcastic. "Nice act at dinner, by the way. I hope I didn't kick you too hard on the shin."
"Thanks for your concern." He smirks. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm sure you'll be glad to know you didn't harm me in any way."
"That's comforting," I say. "I'd have hated for you to be injured."
"You'd have to nurse me back to health if I was."
I roll my eyes. "You'd be out of luck."
Caulter leans forward, his face inches from mine. "Oh, I don't know, Kate," he says. The way he speaks the short version of my name makes me think about that night and all the things he did to me. "You have to admit, you might like having me as a patient."
I inhale sharply, almost dizzy with lust. I don't push him away. I don't tell him to leave. He's so close to me I think he can smell the sex on me.
Caulter keeps talking, his voice a sultry tone that's practically hypnotic. "Having me as your patient, lying in bed, totally at your mercy while you ride me."
His words trigger the memory of that night -- the same image in my head that made me come not two minutes ago. It's like he has some kind of weird mind-reading capability when it comes to me.
When I don't speak, he lowers his voice almost to a whisper. "I'd close my mouth around your breast and suck your nipple until you panted my name, until you begged me to slide my cock inside you."
I will myself not to think about what he's saying, but I can't stop. My lips fall apart and I'm practically panting. I put my hand on my chest, as if that will keep it from rising and falling the way it does. I think about how easy it would be to slide my hand up underneath the hem of his shirt, run my palm along his abs, around the waistband of his jeans, and just flick that button open.
Fuck. I want him.
He looks into my eyes as if he can read my thoughts, as if he's daring me to do what I'm longing to do. "Did you think about me when you came?" he whispers.
Now I push him back, hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He chuckles as he steps back. "I'm right next door if you need me," he says, winking. "Think about that."
I groan aloud as he walks inside his room and shuts the door. I can hear him laughing to himself - the walls in this place aren't exactly thick. In fact, they're paper thin. Sinking onto the bed, I think about how I'm about to be stuck all summer, sharing a wall with Caulter, the guy I can't stop fantasizing about.
I listen to Caulter's door open and close as he comes back from the bathroom, before I decide it's safe to go out myself. I wouldn't want to have any more surprise bathroom encounters with him.
I'm completely lying to myself.
"Morning, sunshine." I adjust the collar of my baby blue polo shirt and run my hand through my hair.
Katherine stops, mid-motion as she leaves her room, her eyes running down the length of my body. "Are you wearing a polo shirt?" she asks. "It's pastel."