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I take a breath and start to walk towards it with the breakfast tray. His blankets are folded down to the foot of the bed. My eyes move over the sleeping figure beneath the single sheet. But suddenly I gasp, loudly.
Micheal is sleeping on his back. The sheet is down to mid-torso, giving me an eyeful of his bulging, grooved chest and shoulder muscles. His muscled arms are at his sides. If he were my age, the physique I’m looking at would be considered impressive. The fact that he’s twenty years older than me makes it amazing.
But it’s not his muscles that make me gasp. His perfectly thick shoulders and arms aren’t what make me almost drop the tray of coffee and eggs Benedict. It’s that below his waist, under the sheet, is an absolutely huge bulge in the pure white sheet.
My jaw falls open. My face reddens. I tremble all over, and a sinful heat blooms in my core. I may be inexperienced. But I know what I’m looking at. I just can’t quite believe it. The tent in his sheets coming up from between his legs is massive. It’s so big and thick that I think it can’t be real.
Micheal breathes in his sleep. His chest rises and falls, and the throbbing bulge under his sheet twitches. I tremble again. The tray shakes in my hand. For some reason, I start to walk closer.
I know I should leave. But I can’t stop myself, or my curiosity. It’s like the throbbing tent in his sheet is a magnet, and I’m helpless to resist it. I walk closer, one foot after the other. All of a sudden, I’m right next to his bed, looking down at him sleeping.
He’s gorgeous. He’s one of those men who seems to have aged like wine. He’s in incredible shape, and even the age lines around his eyes seem to have been placed by a movie makeup artist. They’re perfect.He’sperfect. My eyes drop down his firm chest and over his rippling abs. They slide over bunched sheet, and then onto the throbbing bulge. My jaw drops a little more at how freaking big it is.
I don’t think. I turn and push the tray quietly onto the bedside table. I want to scream at myself “what are you doing?!” But I don’t. And I don’t stop myself, either. It’s like I’m compelled to keep going. It feels as if I’m helpless to resist the pull of it. My shaking hand reaches out. I grip the edge of the sheet. I slowly lift it, and my pulse thunders.
I lift it a little more. My breath comes heavy. Slowly, I peel it back, until suddenly, I gasp. My jaw drops all the way, and my free hand flies to cover my mouth. My eyes are wide as saucers as they stare at what I find under that tented sheet.
Micheal is completely naked. And his… his cock, is standing up thick, rock-hard, and huge from between his muscled legs.
I just stare at it. My jaw is completely dropped, and my pulse is loud in my ears. It might be the first man I’m seeing like this. But I know this isn’t the norm or the average. It can’t be. And the longer I stare at it, the quicker my pulse beats. The hotter my skin gets.
Another sort of heat begins to throb between my legs. I shift, blushing brightly. But I don’t move. I just keep staring as I squeeze my thighs together tightly. I bite my lip. Forbidden pleasure blooms in my core.
Micheal grunts in his sleep. I gasp quietly and almost flee the room. My eyes dart to his face, but he’s still fast asleep. The heat comes flooding back. My eyes slide back to what’s under the sheet still gripped in my hand. I stare at his cock.
He’s so big, and it’s so, so thick. It throbs gently, and I gasp when I see something wet bead at the tip. The sheet drops a little against him, and the wetness seeps into the cotton. Another one follows it, and this one slides slowly down his shaft.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been more turned on. I’m so close, I know I could reach out and touch him. But I don’t dare. I just look, feeling my entire body trembling with lust. Heat throbs in my core, and my pulse quickens.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I scream. I mean I literally scream and almost fall over myself as I jump back from the bed. Micheal sits up, scowling at me. His eyes drop to the bulge in his sheets, and then slide back to me. His blue eyes pierce into me. But he doesn’t quite look angry. It’s something else. It’s something dark and intense looking.
“I’m so sorry!” I blurt.
“Katrina…”
“I’m so sorry, sir!” I blush quickly. “Micheal! I’m so sorry, Micheal!”
“What were you…”
“Breakfast!” I blurt loudly. I jab a finger at the bedside table. “I got you breakfast.”
Micheal is silent. He’s staring right at me, and I can feel myself squirming under his gaze.
“Thank you,” he growls.
“Yep.” I groan inside at the lame response. “Okay, bye!”
I turn, and I run. I half expect him to follow me; to angrily pin me to the wall and demand to know why I was in his room and peeping at him. But he doesn’t do that. When I’m out of his quarters, I stop running. I lean against the wall and slide my hands up my face, covering my eyes and my burning, mortified cheeks.
I turn to go back to my own quarters. But suddenly, the door behind me slams open. A firm, iron-gripped hand grabs me fast. I gasp and tremble as Micheal yanks me back, spins me, and pins me hard against the wall. He grabs my wrists tightly in his hand and pins them above my head against the wall.
I’m shaking. My eyes are wide as they look up into his glowering, fierce, beautiful face. He looks pissed, but it’s something else too. It’s something hungry and hard that makes my breath seize in my chest.
“What the hell were you doing in there?” he growls thickly.
I shake my head. “Nothing! Just breakfast…”
