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even clearer. I could almost see her under the shower, the water streaming down her slim body, dripping from her nipples. I could see her dropping to her knees, her hand cupping my balls while she traced her tongue up the thick vein of my shaft.
    With that vision refusing to leave me, I surrendered and took my cock in my hand. It’s not my hand, it’s her mouth surrounding me, warm and wet, just the right amount of suction. Her hands on my ass now, controlling how quickly I thrusted into her throat. The pain of her fingernails on my skin only heightened the arousal. Making me want her even more.
    Focusing on the top half of my shaft, I intended to get off fast and rough, nothing gentle or tentative about this release. I pumped into my hand, which was her pussy now. Her hands were on the tile, holding her still as I pounded into her tight warmth, the slickness of her arousal closing around me.
    Twisting the crown, I slowed it down, not wanting it to end so soon. Does she talk when she fucks? Moan? Cry out. Does she scream when an orgasm rolls through her?
    I wanted to know.
    Picking up speed again, I punished my cock for not knowing the answers. Gripping tighter, more urgently now.
    Does she like it hard like this? What else does she like? Bondage? My hand making her ass pink? God, I want to know everything about her. Her fears and desires, her wants and needs. Her favorite ice cream. How that ice cream tasted as I licked it from her body.
    I needed to know.
    Our bodies slapping together, the sounds drowning out our rapid breaths. Her breath, the sound of her cries. Her face. I needed to know her face. How it looked when I first entered her. How it looked when I make her come.
    Pounding harder now, my fist moved like a piston up and down my shaft. My balls tightened, clenching with the need to release. The edges of my vision turned white as I let go, imagining my semen racing from my body to spill into hers.
    A guttural sound escaped my lips as thick ropey streams of cum escaped, only to be washed down the drain.
    Lifting my face to the water again, I brace my hands on the tile wall, steadying myself.
    Claire.
    I made the water even colder, but still couldn’t get her out of my mind. I should be ashamed for using a mourning woman as the fantasy of my fist fest, but I’m not.
    I still wanted her.
    Why, I had no idea. But I was pulled to her as surely as a magnet is pulled to steel.
    I needed her to be mine.

C HAPTER F OUR
    Claire
    I was sitting on the roof when Gwen got home. I knew she was in the house because I heard her through the cracked open kitchen window talking to our little brother. I’d been sitting on the rough tiles for an hour or so — since I returned home from the pub. After a quick hello to my parents, I’d managed to evade any more detection by family members, but it was only a matter of time before one of them came looking for me in the name of dinner being ready.
    My two siblings conversed quietly, making it impossible to clearly understand so much as one word. After a couple minutes, the talking ended. I waited, cocking my head to pick up more noises from inside the house.
    Behind me, the door to the bedroom opened. It wasn’t long before Gwen climbed through the window and out onto the little side roof overlooking the backyard.
    “You found me,” I dismally said.
    Gwen didn’t answer. Instead, she settled down next to me and drew her knees up so she could hug them.
    I looked at her. The back porch light below us was on, and I could just make out her face.
    “Isn’t it past your bed time?” I asked.
    She smirked. “Everybody needs to get wild every once in a while.” She peeked at me. “I had two drinks.”
    I scoffed. “I know you’re not as straight laced as you pretend to be. Remember, I know about that whiskey bottle you keep in the shop.”
    “I only have a little bit of that at a time.”
    “I’m not condemning you,” I answered, already feeling exhausted from talking. I spent