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My hand, washing my neck, lowered, and my dick hardened as soon as I reached it. I wrapped my fingers around my shaft, and as I stroked to my tip and as far back as my sac, I thought of Brooklyn.
The way her naked body had looked when she took a long, hot shower this morning. How her nipples had become tight little buds from the water pressure. How the drips from the shower had run down her bare pussy, pooling on the tiles beneath her feet.
I wanted to be on my knees, looking up at her, with my mouth on her cunt.
I wanted the taste of her sliding down my throat.
I wanted the screams from her orgasm to be filling my ears.
My fist wasn’t anything like the hot narrowness of Brooklyn’s pussy, but it was enough to make me come.
I pumped toward my crown, circling the bulge over my palm, urging the tingles to work their way through me.
The build was there.
Sparking hard at first, but it took its time increasing, slowly growing, gathering enough speed to shoot its way out of me.
It was almost there.
Fucking boiling inside me.
My hand held the wall while the other used my soapy skin to rock my dick, back and forth, urging that feeling forward.
Demanding it.
And just as the peak came near, I heard, “Macon!”
Macon?
My eyes shot open, which I hadn’t realized were even closed, widening like hell as I saw Brooklyn in the doorway of my bathroom. She was holding the doorknob, after just opening the door, with her cell phone up to her ear.
She’d returned to the suite to see me.Ohhh, I fucking loved that.
That woman could be the sweetest when she wanted to be.
The only downside to this perfect surprise was that my orgasm had faded the second I heard my name.
But my hard-on hadn’t.
“I was just thinking about you …” I pumped my cock a few times. “Get in and join me.”
I gave zero fucks that she’d busted me beating off. Actually, I thought it was sexy. I wanted her to see that as she owned my thoughts, she gave me such a raging erection, and I had to touch myself.
But something was off in the way she looked at me.
In the expression that was growing across her face, one that was turning into a look that was over-the-top alarming.
“What’s wrong?”
Why wasn’t she responding?
“Brooklyn …”
Why wasn’t she moving from the doorway? Or giving me anything other than the shock that was thickening in her eyes and lips, even her cheeks?
But why would there be shock if she’d come back to my suite? Hadn’t she expected to see me? Wasn’t that what she wanted?
There was no other reason she’d return to my room—at least not one that I could think of.
