With each pull, I roll my wrist, squeezing the sensitive head. Chloe’s mouth is gaping open, a perfect ‘o’ forming on her lips. I imagine it’s her mouth I’m fucking. My spine tingles and I let out a guttural groan of pleasure.

A second later, the hot liquid of my orgasm explodes from the head of my cock, and her name falls from my lips.

My eyes close with the intensity of my release. Fuck. That was insane.

When I finally open my eyes, Chloe is gone.

16. Chloe

CHAPTER 16

Chloe

I slam the bathroom door shut and rush to the dresser.

Sweet Jesus. What just happened?

Still half-asleep and needing to pee, I just walked in on Barrett showering.

Naked.

Obviously, that’s how people shower.

I glance around, wondering if I’ve been caught. Of course, I was caught. Barrett saw me.

He saw me through the foggy glass of the shower and still kept stroking himself.

Without much effort, my brain replays the moment back in vivid detail.

Barrett naked in the shower. Steam rising around him. One large hand braced against the tiled wall while the other fists his hard cock, pumping furiously.

When I walked in, his head had been down. I should have left, but I stood there frozen, my legs powerless to move. My eyes unable to look away as the water sluiced over his broad shoulders, down his strong chest and through the tributaries of the V indentations at his hips.

Did I mention the monster cock in his hands?

Yeah, that thing.

It’s clear now why Barrett’s hands are large. They have to be to manage other large things.

Barrett’s hips flexing as he thrust harder, faster, into both fists. The way he stared at me from behind the glass. The potent lust in his eyes and the guttural sound he made when he came. And said my name. Now, it’s all seared into my brain.

I hear the water shut off in the bathroom—had I really been oblivious to the sound before?—and it spurs me into action.

I don’t even know what I’m putting on, but something other than pajamas so I can go downstairs before Barrett comes out of the bathroom.

I manage to find jean shorts and a t-shirt and throw them on.

If it weren’t July I’d probably opt for a sweater, too. Anything to put more layers between my body and the outside world where Barrett will inevitably be. Barrett and his massive cock.

Why is it that walking in on Barrett stroking himself feels more mortifying than when he walked in on me in the bathtub?