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And now, there he is, in all his glory. Cole isn’t as muscular as Xander. He’s leaner and has a quiet beauty about him. Even his wide chest and six-pack appears demure in an irresistible type of way.
Due to playing football, his thighs and long legs are powerful and taut. His chest muscles contract with the way his hand is gripping his cock.
I felt it yesterday — and keep feeling it today — but it’s the first time I’ve seen his dick. It’s so big, I’m both appalled and amazed that it fit inside me. I couldn’t look away from it or him even if I wanted to.
And I do want to. I just can’t avert my gaze.
He’s touching himself.
Cole is naked and he’s touching himself.
His hand tugs up and down his dick, and for some stupid, irrational reason, I hate his hand right now.
That was me yesterday. It should be me now, not his hand.
My fingers move inside me at a slower pace, my eyes drooping as if they’re about to close.
That’s when the entire situation filters into my dazed brain. The fact that I’m masturbating in front of Cole. The fact he’s doing the same while watching me.
He’s in my bathroom.
I gasp, letting my hands fall to either side of me despite my body’s protests, and swiftly turn around. “W-what are you doing here? G-get out.”
There’s no power behind my voice, no matter how much I wish for it. My heart beats loud and fast. The tender skin between my legs is aching, demanding the release I just interrupted. My nipples throb, close to cutting something with how hard they are.
No movement comes from Cole. The sound of water is the only thing in the bathroom. I swallow through my broken breaths.
Did he leave?
Why the hell is my chest falling at that idea?
I need some therapy because I shouldn’t be feeling this out of sorts whenever he’s in sight. Is it because he became my stepbrother? Am I acting this way because my will was taken by our parents’ marriage and I missed the timing?
Do I only crave him this much because I can’t have him?
That must be why, because the fact that my heart is nearly bursting out of my chest doesn’t make any damn sense.
I slowly take a peek over my shoulder.
Goosebumps erupt all over my wet skin, the hot water doing nothing to alleviate it.
Cole stands right behind me. He’s close enough that I smell his scent, spice and his lime gum. Close enough that I get trapped in his warmth. Close enough that he’s drenched, his silky hair becoming soaked and sticking to his forehead. Close enough that streams of water drip down his pectoral muscles and down, down —
I snap my attention back to his eyes, refusing to be caught spying on his dick.
“What did I tell you about giving me your back, Butterfly?” he murmurs near the shell of my ear.
My eyes fight to shut at the shiver he’s erupting on my skin.
He grabs my arse cheek, and this time, I whimper, my thighs clamping together. “Or are you perhaps tempting me with this? Do you want me to fuck it?”
“N-no.” My voice is weak, even to my own ears.
I, myself, don’t know what I want him to do. As long as he touches me, has his hands on me, it’s like everything suddenly becomes possible.
“No, huh? I’ll change your mind one day.” He licks the lobe of my ear, murmuring in hot words, “Now, how about I finish the show you started?”
“I didn’t start any show.” I’m surprised I can speak with the stimuli shooting rampant all over my body.
