He grabs them and goes to the shower, and I walk back out, heading to my own shower. I close the door behind me and start the water, but my cock has other ideas. I palm my cock in my hand and close my eyes, and her face is all I can think about. Her calling my name, her moaning out my name, and in record time, I’m whispering her name while I come all over myself.

After I get out and towel off, I slip on my boxers and then shorts and walk out to the kitchen and see that they are both there. “You don’t go in the pantry unless you ask.” I hear her hiss at Dylan.

“But,” he says as I walk in, “Justin said I could have a snack.”

“Everything okay?” I ask. She turns around, and I have to take a second to take her in. Her wet hair is piled on her head, she is wearing my shirt which fits her like a dress, and the shorts that I gave her go way past her knees. It’s swallowing her up, yet it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen her wear.

“It’s fine,” she says. “Go sit and have your snack.” She points at the box of cookies he took out of the pantry. “Um …” she says softly. “Are you going to get dressed?” she asks, and then her eyes fly to Dylan to see if he’s listening or looking, and the kid couldn't care less.

I look down. “I’m wearing shorts,” I say, and she looks again down and then up, and she avoids looking at me.

“But a shirt?” she says, and I have to say knowing that she’s a bit turned on by this makes me want to puff my chest out even more.

“Nah, I’m good like this,” I say, and she just nods. Dylan eats his snack and then drinks a glass of milk.

“I’m going to bed,” he says, and I walk with him to the back room and set him up with covers and pillow. I pull off the big pillows on the back, and it’s now the size of a queen-size bed. I hand him a huge king-size white duvet blanket and three pillows. “Thanks, Justin,” he says and turns around.

“If you need anything, call my name,” I say and walk out of the room. I find her in the kitchen putting the dishes away.

“He’s out,” I say, and she looks over at me.

“What do you mean he’s out?” she asks.

“He’s gone to bed,” I say. “I set up the bed for him, and he climbed under the covers and said good night.”

“But he didn’t even say good night to me,” she says. She walks into the back room and sticks her head in, and the sound of him softly snoring fills the room.