Page 46 of Plays Well With Others

That’s the sound of…the shower.

From this weird upside-down pose, I peer around.

That’s…Carter’s king-size bed.

All at once, everything clicks into place. I fell asleep onhiscouch. I walked intohisbedroom. And I’m feet away fromhisen suite bathroom.

Where he’s taking a shower.

Because, holy smokes, from this vantage point, with the bathroom door half-open, I can see his naked legs.

Can he see me upside down, wearing my…what the hell panties am I wearing today? Oh, great. The red lace ones. They basically screamI want a side of sex ed with my girlfriend lessons.

I will never live this down after Boob Day.

Not only did I flash him my jugs, I sleepwalked into his bedroom while stripping to nothing.

Real smooth, Rachel.

Carefully, so I don’t faceplant, I pull up my jeans in slow-mo. When they’re at knee level, I lift my face, and…

Whoa.

That’s a hearty eye-full of mostly naked man in the bathroom mirror.

The vanity above his sink is wide enough, big enough, thoughtful enough to offer me a view into the rainfall shower.

I knew Carter was built, but I didn’t know he looked like he could star in an artsy sports magazine photo spread of naked athletes, the kind where you can see strong bodies in motion but noparts. I can’t see anything truly risqué since he’s turned slightly away from the mirror. As I inch up my jeans more, my eyes devour the somewhat chaste shower scene, cataloging the droplets of water caressing his golden skin, his thick thighs, his strong calves, and the side of his ass.

He has a great ass, and I can’t stop staring at it. It’s strong, and firm, and what would it feel like to grip that ass as he fucked me? To wrap my legs around his ass as he drove into me?

That’s it. I’m officially a voyeur. A shower voyeur. I have to stop. You’re not supposed to wander into your friend’s bedroom, peek in the half-open door to the bathroom, and steal glances as he bathes.

Get it together.

I hold my breath as I pull my jeans up the rest of the way, trying not to peek in the mirror.

But once I find the zipper of my jeans, I realize I’m failing. I’m still staring at Carter’s ridiculously sexy reflection.

I’ll just grab my discarded shirt, tug it on in a hot second, then skedaddle. Quietly, I tiptoe a few feet to grab my long-sleeve top, then gasp. I slam my hand to my mouth to swallow the noise.

He’s not just gloriously naked and washing up.

He’s deliciously X-rated and jerking off.

Carter gives his hard cock a long, sturdy tug. I purse my lips tight to vacuum seal up all the lascivious groans building in my chest. With the shirt in my hand, I slink back against the doorframe, my spine to the wall. I’ll just get dressed here and then go home.

Where I will fuck my vibrator for the rest of the night and into the eternity of my dirty thoughts.

But my gaze is still stuck on the scene in the mirror.

That’s a very confident hard-on. Long, thick, and—I can’t believe I’m thinking this because dicks by nature aren’t pretty; they’re funny-looking, dangly things—but Carter’s dick isn’t simply big. It’s beautiful.

It’s hypnotizing me. I’m some kind of cartoon character, caught in a trance.

I want that hand to be my hand so badly.

My head swims. My thighs shake.

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