Page 51 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

He’s enjoying the view.

And I’m enjoying the way his eyes are caressing me, following every move I make as I bend, placing my palms flat against the floor.

Even with my headphones in, I can hear Dean’s sharp intake, my ass fully on display.

I’m wearing nothing but a pair of black boyshorts and a pale pink camisole, my standard bedtime attire.

I push to my full height, then bend again, this time walking my hands out and shoving my butt out even more.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the desire in his voice thick.

I can’t even laugh.

I feel it too, the untapped tension in the room.

I’m starting to sweat, and not from my exercise.

The flames of his stare lick against my skin, and I realize now that screwing with him was a mistake.

I don’t feel relaxed. I am anythingbutrelaxed.

Inhale, exhale.

I draw in three deep breaths, stretch out again without the intention of making Dean crazy, and then push to my full height.

I don’t acknowledge him as I roll my yoga mat back up and tuck it away.

Pulling one earbud from my ear, I turn toward my audience.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t shrink under my attention.

He’s staring at me unabashedly, a glass of water in his hands, the moonlight from the open window and the terrarium casting just enough light for me to see him sitting at the island in the dark kitchen.

I can’t see his eyes, but I can still feel them.

Feeling brave, I stalk toward him, not stopping until I’m nearly between his spread legs.

I slip the glass from his hands and take a long, hard pull from it, emptying it before setting it down on the counter.

He just watches, not saying a word as I stand there.

All that can be heard is our uneven breathing.

I don’t know how many minutes go by, but my nipples are back to standing at attention and my pussy is back to feeling like I haven’t given it attention in days.

I’m beginning to grow uncomfortable under his deep stare, and not in a creeper vibe sort of way. More of anI’m about to do something I regretkind of way.

“Like what you see?” I smart off, needing to regain some semblance of balance because what in the hell are we doing?

We can’t be playing games like this.

I can’t be masturbating because Dean got me all hot and bothered.

He can’t be staring at me like he wants to strip me bare.

“Yes,” he answers.

Without a care in the world, he adjusts his obviously hard cock inside those gray sweats I’m starting to hate.

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