Page 17 of Pour Decisions (Stryker Family #3)

KATRINA

I never realized how often I got myself off until moving in with JD. Sometimes it was to destress, and other times it was to scratch the itch that my ex definitely wasn’t attending to.

But now it’s because being this close to JD and only touching him in a professional way is making me lose my damn mind.

We’ve started doing our workouts—my daily yoga, his PT exercises—together every day, and watching his body move when I could definitely just touch him is making me ache between my legs.

Plus, he blatantly checks me out too. I’m not helping by pointing my ass toward him when I don’t strictly have to.

This wouldn’t be as big of a problem as it is if my vibrator weren’t as loud as a literal jackhammer. Every time I use it, it sounds like I’m flipping my pussy like a shitty old house with potential.

Is it old? Yes. Do I want to replace it? Hell no. I’ve tried the fancy toys with connected apps, luxury ones that cost an arm and a leg. None of them compare to this piece of garbage wand toy I impulse bought on sale years ago. The vibration is just right and doesn’t make me numb.

JD is out of the house this morning, though, on a long hike with Bubba.

I can make all the noise I want. He left ten minutes ago—long enough to where he probably won’t pop back in to grab his earbuds or anything, and also long enough to give me time to unwind.

I desperately need to before I do something idiotic.

JD’s house is older, which is part of its charm, but it’s lacking in outlets. I lean off the bed to plug Old Faithful into the wall—yes, a plug in, because batteries have done me dirty in the past. The cord is just long enough for me to comfortably use it.

I shimmy my sleep shorts and panties off, then sink into the mattress. I let my legs fall open and turn on the toy, putting the blunt end of the wand along one of my lower lips.

I like to edge myself, taking my time to make the pay off worth it.

My thoughts drift to JD, inevitably. I try to just think of a body and gorgeous cock like his, a body detached from the man who belongs to it, but fail.

I’ve been with plenty of good-looking, ripped guys with nice equipment before, but none of them were like JD.

His intensity, the rough feel of his hands, the sounds he made.

God, the sounds he made. I can’t forget those even if I try. Now that we’ve cleared the air on our past, the memories come back with less of the angst attached.

I press the toy against myself and shift my hand around so it’s not on the hot part of the shaft. It’s so old that it warms up, but I use it to let me know when to finish.

Am I melting my toy from the inside out? Maybe. But also, maybe I’m just using a bug as a fun little feature.

I clench, feeling myself get closer. I bite my bottom lip and hold my breath, feeling the wave start to crest. My toes curl and I’m moments away…

But the power goes out and there goes my orgasm. Instead I get a bootleg version of one, where everything shudders and clenches without any actual release.

“Fuck!” I groan, but not in the fun way I would have if the power hadn’t shorted.

It flickers back on moments later and I lay limp, staring at the ceiling. Every nerve ending in my body is buzzing like it’s about to catch on fire.

“Kat?” JD calls down the hallway, his footsteps fast. “Are you alright?”

I sit straight up and scramble to find my shorts.

“Yep! Fine!” I sound like I’ve just sucked down some helium. “Just startled! I’m great!”

His footsteps stop outside the door, and I hear Bubba’s claws tapping around out there too.

“You sure? I’ve had problems with that socket before—the one near the bed. Can I check it?” he asks.

I swear under my breath again and find my shorts, throwing them on, and yank the cord to the vibrator out of the wall. I jam it into the side table drawer and rush to open the door. JD is still in the shorts and a t-shirt he was wearing when he left, but he’s wet.

“You’re back already?” I ask, stepping aside and hoping he can’t tell what I’ve been up to.

My body is betraying me already, because I can’t stop looking at how his wet shirt clings to his shoulders and chest.

“It started to rain and Bubba hates being wet unless he’s getting a bath or going swimming.” He shrugs and walks toward the wall. My heart picks up and I hover. “What did you plug in?”

“Um…” My brain wipes completely clean. I’ve forgotten what objects can even be plugged into the wall in general. “Like…a thing…”

“A thing? A thing that requires a lot of power? Or something older?” he asks. His eyebrow creeps up as he looks me up and down.

I’m sure I look a mess—no bra, ancient t-shirt from a dance camp I was a counselor for, shorts that I should have tossed. Plus the aura of sexual frustration.

“Yeah, a thing,” I say instead of giving a good answer.

He accepts it, at least, and pokes around the outlet.

“It looks okay, but I’ll have to get the electrician in here to make sure that nothing behind the wall is messed up,” he says.

“Oh my god, I could have burned the house down,” I say.

“You didn’t know,” he says. “I should have warned you.”

“No, I should have known…”

He stands up fully. I’ve crept too close to him, so when he does, he towers over me. We’re way too close together, and all the nerve endings that were left orgasmless suddenly light up again. He looks down at me for a moment before his eyes drift to the side.

I hastily tried to slam the drawer shut, but the wand head of the toy kept it open. There’s no way he doesn’t know what it is, because we used the one I had before this together.

The tips of his ears get pink despite the rest of his expression remaining serious. His hands slide into his pockets and he opens his mouth like he wants to speak. But nothing comes out for an excruciatingly long time.

“I’ll…” He gestures vaguely toward the bed. “Leave you to it, I guess. Just avoid using that outlet until I can get it fixed."

He and Bubba leave. I wish I could leave too, but directly into a pit in the ground to never be seen again.

I sigh and sit down on the bed, pulling out the toy again. I click the on button, just to see if it’ll work.

It’s dead. And I’m all pent up without any kind of release, and filled with guilt for nearly blowing up his house.

I sigh and go to the bathroom to clean up a bit.

Better to get over the awkwardness now than later.

I go into the kitchen and start preheating the oven.

Since trying some of Sarah Jane’s treats, I’ve been craving more sweets than usual.

I’m not a great baker, but I have a few things up my sleeve.

JD has a sweet tooth, even if his jacked form says otherwise.

Is this too much? I would have baked cookies anyway. But baking cookies and leaving them there is different than baking cookies and bringing them as an offering.

Oh, fuck it. I want to make him the cookies. He loves them and I might have messed up his electricity. It’s the least I can do.

I turn on some music and start throwing together some cookies with peanut M&Ms in them. They don’t take long to mix up and bake, and soon the only hard part is waiting for them to cool down.

I manage to find restraint, and only pop them off the cookie sheet, arranging a bunch on a plate. I pour him a big glass of milk too and head to his office.

He’s frowning at his computer screen, with what I assume are blue light glasses sliding down his nose. They make him look unfairly attractive.

Bubba’s tail thumps on the ground, alerting JD that I’m there. His eyebrows lift in surprise.

“These are an apology for nearly burning your house down,” I say, putting the cookies and milk at the edge of his desk. Bubba lifts his nose to get a better sniff, so I push them further from the edge. “And working on a Saturday requires treats.”

JD blinks. “You didn’t almost burn the house down, Kat.”

“I could have. What if the power hadn’t gone out? I could have at least started a small fire.” I steal a cookie off his plate and one side of his mouth creeps up. “Cookie tax. There are more in the kitchen if you want more.”

He picks one up and takes a bite at the same time I do. The tiniest mm escapes his lips and it hits me like he just fell to his knees to praise me.

“Well, thank you. Even though I feel like this was just an excuse for you to make cookies.” Again, that tiny almost-smile of his. But this time it broadens, and if I’m not imagining things, the tips of his ears go pink.

Oh god. Bashful JD is like the opposite side of the same coin as in-a-wet-clingy-shirt JD—both versions of him make me melt.

“Maybe. It’s a rainy day, so why not?” I bite my bottom lip before I say anything else. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks, kitten,” he says. My heart stutters, and this time, the redness very clearly climbs up his neck. “Kat. Sorry.”

I stuff the rest of the cookie into my mouth and walk back to the kitchen, overthinking absolutely everything that’s happened today.

With all the overthinking I’ve been doing about JD, I’ve hardly thought about dinner tonight with my mom. I should have—questions about whether she knew about her ex being paid off to not press charges against JD are still in the back of my head.

Now my thoughts are an absolute mess. At least it’s just the two of us since her boyfriend is out of town on business.

I pick up a bottle of wine on the way to Mom’s new place, which is in a completely new area of Jepsen. The houses are all cookie-cutter and suburban, but nice.

“Hi, Trina!” Mom says, throwing open the door. We look a lot alike, but she’s shorter and cuts her hair close to her scalp. “Come in. Thank you for the wine. Let me give you a little tour!”

The house inside is nice too, but they haven’t decorated much. The walls and furniture are neutral. The only personal touches are Mom’s ten billion throw pillows, plus some photos of her boyfriend and his kids. He looks nice. Normal. Thank god.