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We have plans to watch another episode ofAmerican Horror Storytonight. He texted me earlier and asked if I was down. Though I had a moment’s hesitation after what happened the last time, I said yes.
I glance at the screen of my phone and see that I’m about twenty minutes early. When the elevator doors open on my floor, I make my way down the hall and stop at Chase’s door. Since I’m a little early, I knock, even though Chase told me to use my key whenever I come over.
Zeus meows from the other side of the door. When Chase doesn’t answer after I knock a second time, I decide to use my key. Maybe Zeus hasn’t been fed dinner yet because Chase is running late?
I go inside and set my purse down and remove the denim jacket I’m wearing since it was a little cool out tonight. When I’m done, Zeus walks toward the kitchen, looking for his dinner, but I hear my name from down the hall. Changing direction, much to Zeus’s dismay, stink eye and all, I head down the hallway.
“Hey, yeah, it’s just me,” I call. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here because you didn’t answer.”
“Oh, Twyla.”
My brow furrows at the tone of Chase’s voice. It sounds as if he’s in pain or something.
The door to the Lego room is closed and he’s not in the second bath, so I venture toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall. I’ve never been in this room before and I feel a little uncomfortable stepping inside, but when I hear my name in that tone again, I can’t not investigate. The shower is running and I second-guess myself, but then I picture Chase having slipped and hit his head, blood rushing into the drain with the water and I can’t leave without making sure all is well.
The en suite door is ajar, and I call, “Chase?” as I step into the doorway.
I’m stunned into stillness. I can’t move and I can’t take my eyes off the sight in front of me.
Chase is in the shower, naked, with his head tilted back, eyes closed while he strokes himself. His muscled forearm flexes with the movement and I can’t bring myself to look away. He’s glorious. That’s the only word to describe what I’m looking at. His hard shaft is long and thick and in proportion with the rest of him.
As I’m examining his dick, I hear his sharp intake of air and my attention moves back to his face to see him staring at me in horror.
That breaks me out of my daze. “I’m sorry!” I whirl around and give him my back. “I didn’t think you were home, and I was just going to feed Zeus and then I heard my name, and at first I thought you were calling me and then I thought maybe you’d hurt yourself or something.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. The pinkening of my cheeks morphs from arousal to almost painful levels of embarrassment.
Then his voice comes out raspy and he shocks me to my core. “Don’t leave. Watch.”
I slowly turn around, and once I’m facing him again, I soak in my fill of him. One hand still rests at the base of his cock. His gaze is intense and unmoving, and I imagine it’s a lot like how he looks at the opposing players in the lineup.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
He nods and starts stroking again. This time his gaze is on my face and unwavering.
Heat pools between my thighs, and I squeeze them together in an attempt at some relief.
“Go sit on the counter and spread your legs.” His voice doesn’t leave room for argument, not that there’s an argument in me.
I hop up on the counter between the two sinks on the vanity. His attention follows me, narrowed in like a sniper’s laser sight. The hand that’s not stroking himself moves to cup his balls and a small moan escapes me. I lean back against the mirror and spread my legs. I’m wearing a maxi dress, so I know he can’t see anything.
“Now pull your dress up to your waist.” His chin tips up and he looks down his nose at me.
Zero part of me even thinks about denying his request. I do what he says, and the hand on his balls moves up to press against the glass separating us, almost as if he wishes he could bust through it and get to me. His other hand continues to stroke, and I lick my lips, wondering what he would feel like in my mouth.
“Now touch yourself,” he says in a deep rumble that makes my clit pulse.
I bring my hand between my legs, lightly applying pressure to my clit over the thin fabric of my panties. After a few seconds, I slip my hand under the band of my panties and touch myself bare with a long, drawn-out sigh.
Chase’s hand on the glass clenches into a fist and he picks up the speed he’s stroking himself with.
“What are you thinking about? I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours,” I ask.
“You. Your lips wrapped around my cock and what that would feel like. My tongue between your legs. What it would feel like to sink into you… taste you.”
My nipples peak and I press harder on my clit in an attempt to sate the lust. “Do you think about that stuff a lot?” My voice is breathy and wanton, sounding nothing like me.
“Every time I see you.”
