Page 94 of Charming Deception

And looking at me?

I peel back the covers in silence, with the buzzing awareness that something’s happening. I feel his restless energy in his wake, like a ripple of heat in the night.

Why isn’t he sleeping?

I creep toward the walk-in and listen, but I still don’t hear anything. If he was getting dressed in there, I’d hear it, right?

I move quietly, trying to think up some excuse in case I smash right into him. I heard him get up and came to see if he’s okay, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.

So why do I feel guilty as I steal through the closet?

Because he’s not in here.

Which means he continued on, into his bathroom or mine, and I’m about to follow him.

I go for his, and tiptoe along the twisting hall, still hearing nothing. If he’s using the toilet, he’ll be in that room with the door shut, and I’ll just run back to bed.

But my heart is pounding because somehow, I know he’s not using the toilet.

And I’m about to spy on him.

He won’t be showering. He showered when I arrived tonight. If he turns on the shower, he’s definitely masturbating.

But no water turns on.

I hear something. Like the soft sound of feet shifting on the tile, from within the bathroom.

I creep to the edge of the wall and peek around the corner. His bathroom is large and pristine, a mirror image of mine.

And standing in the middle of it is Jameson.

As I watch, he hooks his thumbs into his boxer briefs and tugs them down. His swollen cock and balls bounce free, and I hear his rough, pleasured breath.

Anticipation.

My heart lodges in my throat as the same feeling rises in me, on a wave of heat.

He drops the underwear and steps out of it.

With a panther’s grace, he stalks silently to the wide marble counter, his side to me as I cling to the edge of the wall, hidden from view, out of reach of the lights. His long, strong body is completely bare, and I stare.

He’s big. Bigger than what I’m used to.

I’ve never seen any man’s naked cock in the flesh except Troy’s.

Jameson is taller than Troy, more muscular, and his cock is thicker, longer. It’s partially erect, swollen, the plump head bobbing with each step. His balls bounce heavily against the fronts of his thighs, fat and full.

I’m instantly intoxicated by the sight of him, as the sexual response floods my system with chemicals, making me shaky, needy, hungry.

I shouldn’t be spying on him. He didn’t spy on me. But I stare, and I can’t stop myself.

He stands directly in front of the sink. There’s a large mirror above, and he seems to be looking down, with heavily lidded eyes, at his cock in the reflection. He spreads his feet, stabilizing himself, his thighs pressed to the marble counter, his cock over the sink.

I know what he’s about to do, and I still can’t look away. I’m too transfixed by his naked body, his virility, his obvious arousal.

And the overwhelming desire I feel for him.

His hand goes to his balls. He huffs softly, a gruff sound of relief, as his fingers slide over the swollen sac. That sound he makes goes straight between my legs, and my core pulses in response. I can feel myself growing swollen, wet, as I watch him swell.

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