I couldn’t deny my fantasies to myself.
The image of Viktor surfaced in my mind. The way he looked at me with his icy blue eyes. The shape of his mouth. His broad shoulders. His large hands traced with prominent veins. His long fingers sliding over the piano keys.
He always knew exactly where to touch. Would he also know in more intimate moments?
A moan slipped from me. A muffled, embarrassed sound. My hand searched for support against the cold tile. It was hard not to imagine having those longer, thicker fingers inside me. Especially while my own moved quickly between my legs.
It didn’t take long for the growing tension inside me to rise to the surface, about to unravel. I was so, so close to that sweet relief I craved.
Until I heard the sharp sound of the doorbell.
I opened my eyes
