Chapter 201
LUCA-
Another rough night in the shower.
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I could not stop thinking about her, and that was the whole problem, because the water was cold and the tile was too and my head still put Charlotte Reid in the room with me: her pussy, that slow finger, her smile, her face when she fell off the couch in Monaco, then the other pictures my brain had no right to build-my cock in her mouth, what that would feel like, heated, wet, Charlotte looking up at me like she did when she was pleased.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
What was my problem? I should not be having such thoughts about her. But ever since that night, ever since she kissed me, everything changed.
I tried other things to forget. That was the plan. Think about the upcoming race. Think about Sainte- Dévote. Think about anything but her.
Think about a model in a Monaco hallway whose name I still did not have. Think about anything that was not Charlotte on a bed in this house with her skirt shoved up and her finger in her pussy, moving in and
out.
Nothing helped.
I put an image of Valentina sitting next to my plate at dinner and my head still put Charlotte on her knees.
I thought about ice baths. I thought about gym numbers. I thought about Marco’s expression in the garden and her words from the wedding that I had never gotten over.
I thought about my father’s board and the speech that had not happened yet. Every subject failed to get rid of the thoughts of her that kept on haunting me.
I felt like there was something wrong with me. It was the only explanation. That something was terribly
wrong.
Every subject ended in the same place: wet, slow movements, her finger, that sound in the pillow. Her moans. Her cries.
Damn it.
Charlotte would kill me if she knew what was going on in my head. She would literally knock me out with a fucking pot if she had even the slightest clue.
She was the one girl I did not sleep with. The one girl I refused to touch because of how much I respected her. And now I couldn’t get her pussy out of my head?
Now I was jerking off to images of her touching herself?
I needed professional help. Needed to see a psychiatrist because this was not fucking healthy. Maybe they could help me figure out what this was. This feeling that didn’t want to go away.
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The Mockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
The water ran. I braced my forehead on the tile and told myself to finish or stop.
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id neither well. My fist worked and I hated myself for it. I still saw her. I tried to swap the picture for someone faceless. That did not work. At all.
I shut my eyes harder. It did not matter. This wouldn’t work. None of this would. It simply wasn’t her.
Then the door opened. I heard it and froze. Who would be here this hour?
“Luca?”
Charlotte?
Her voice. In my room. In this house. This was not good. Not good at all. I was just thinking about her in all the inappropriate ways available.
“FUCK.”
I shut the water off, wrapped a towel around my hips, and walked out before she decided to come into the bathroom and see my cock in my hand.
Her eyes widened the second I came into view. Was I too loud? Did she magically hear me from the room down the hall?
I was wet. The towel was doing the minimum. My cock had not gotten the memo about this girl being off-
limits.
“I didn’t mean to-” she started.
“What is it?”
Her standing there while I wanted her was not a good thing.
I needed her out. Quick. Before the towel dropped and she saw what she did to me.
Why did she have to look so fucking irresistible?
She licked her lips. “I-I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I quirked a brow, confusion stacking on top of the heat. “Now?”
Now was not a fucking good time. Right now, all I wanted was her mouth on me. Scratch that. I wanted my mouth on her. Ever since I saw that pretty pussy, I wanted to taste it. To suck it. To eat it.
She nodded.
Why did she look so nervous? Hands twisting. Eyes on my collarbone, then the floor, then my mouth.
I watched her mouth as well. The same mouth that had kissed me when she was drunk. The same mouth I had just been ruining myself over.
“Tell me. Is it my mother again? Did she do something?”
I was fed up with her constantly interfering with Charlotte. If it involved her in any way, I knew I’d have a
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serious chat with my mother first thing in the morning.
She snapped quickly. “I am. . .I wanted sex.”
I stopped moving.
What?
What the fuck was she talking about?
Had I lost my mind so badly that I was imagining things? Was she even in front me right now?
The shower was still dripping behind me.
I stared at her.
She stared at the towel.
Neither of us was breathing right.
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The tension in the room was worse than a last-lap gap. I did not know if I had heard her correctly. I did not know if I wanted to hear her correctly.
I only knew that if she said it again I was not sure the towel, or the house, or the word best friend would be enough to keep me on this side of the room.
AD
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The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.