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My name. She called my fucking name.

I don’t know how else to take that other than a personal invitation. Hell, it would be rude if I didn’t listen in.

She says it again, and I snap, unzipping my jeans and shoving down my boxers. I grip my length, thumbing the series of metal bars on the front of my cock. The relief has my jaw dropping open. Pre-cum beads at the tip and I crack the door open a little wider. It’s enough for me to see one of her feet sticking out of the slit in the shower curtain, braced on the edge of the tub.

I take a silent step into the bathroom and glance down to find the heap of clothes she was wearing earlier tonight—including her pink underwear lying on top.

Fuck me, I never stood a chance.

I pluck the silky scrap of material from the pile and bring it to my face, inhaling her arousal. It’s dirty and wrong, and so fucking hot. The scent of her pussy confirms she was just as turned on as I was on the rooftop. I fucking love it.

Anna releases another soft sigh and I wrap the panties around my fist as I pump up and down. I want to be covered in her. The showerhead switches to a staccato rhythm and I speed up. Before long those soft whimpers turn into moans and I’m biting my tongue to keep from coming, making sounds, or ripping open that shower curtain and taking care of her myself.

What I would give to see her right now. How does she like to get herself off? Does she arch her back? Do her thighs tremble? When she comes, does she squeeze her eyes shut or do they roll back? How do her hips move when she’s desperate to be filled? Someday, I’ll get to have that gorgeous stare directed at me, half-lidded and full of lust. I imagine her dripping cunt, and what she would taste like pulsing against my tongue. I’m not going to last much longer.

With toes curled, her sexy cries reach a crescendo, punctuated by a “Fuck, Casper!” that will live on in my memories until I’m old and gray. I tightly seal my lips together and exhale out of my nose as I finish with her, shooting hot ropes of cum into the soft fabric. My chest heaves. Jesus Christ.

As soon as I’m done, I turn the underwear inward and drop it back on the pile of dirty clothes. Backing out of the bathroom, I close the door to its original position. Logically, I understand that was a fucked-up thing to do, but there isn’t one regret in my mind that would make me take my actions back. I loved hearing her, I loved smelling her, and I’ll stop at nothing to experience her with the rest of my senses. Hopefully sooner than later.

She’s still showering when I tuck my dick into my boxers and zip up my jeans. I take advantage of the time and steal a water bottle from her fridge before exiting back into my private corridor. I drop into the chair I have set in the hall, unscrewing the water and taking three big gulps.

I consider heading home, but it weirdly seems impolite after what I just did. When the water stops, I take one more gulp and screw the cap back on, setting it on the floor beside me. I stand just in time to see her step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, the pile of clothes in her arms. She drops them into the hamper, then opens her dresser drawers and selects a clean set of pajamas—and underwear.

With her back to me, the towel drops into a puddle at her feet. Her heart-shaped ass looks fucking delicious. She bends over to slide a new pair of panties up her legs and then dresses in the gray striped sleep set.

Picking up the damp towel, she blots her hair with it and returns into the bathroom. From the sounds of it, she’s brushing her teeth and following through with the rest of her nightly routine. After the sound of the hair dryer stops, she turns off the bathroom light, plunging everything into darkness, and I hear the bed creak as she climbs under the covers. I’ll at least wait until she’s asleep to leave, like a gentleman.

I slouch in the chair. Thirty minutes or so passes and I could probably fall asleep myself if I wanted to. I stand, ready to head out just as I hear a frustrated groan and a small light at her bedside flicks on. She’s still up?

Peering through, I watch her rip open her nightstand drawer, grab her vibrator, and slam it shut. She shimmies under the covers, probably peeling off those little striped shorts. Oh, she’s got stamina. My dick thickens when I hear the faint buzzing start up. She closes her eyes, adjusting her position in bed. Fucking hell, why does she have to stay under the sheets?

Anna grabs her phone off the nightstand with her free hand and starts swiping the screen. I imagine her revisiting the websites I saw in her browser history.

Instead, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Anna

Are you awake?

I grin.

Yes.

Anna

I can’t sleep.

As quietly as I can, I unzip my jeans and shove my boxers down, grabbing my dick for the second time. I clumsily type my reply with one hand. Hell yes. She texted me—while touching herself. How can I make this good for her while also playing stupid? Better question, how do I do it without plowing through the wall like the fucking Kool-Aid man and shouting “Oh, yeah!” against her pussy?

Aww. Are you feeling restless, Duchess?

Anna

Very.

Want me to help?

Anna