My skin burns as I bend down to retrieve it, knowing he’s still checking me out. It’s not enough that he’s managed to put me on my ass a few times, made me cum my brains out, but to watch me completely naked while I scrub myself clean is a new level of humiliation.
It’s a new level of vulnerability.
Shit, my dick is getting hard.
I turn around so he can’t see the effect he’s having on me, and I wash quickly, my skin prickling as his gaze never leaves me.
Thankfully, it only lasts a few scorching minutes before I hear his shower turn off and the pad of his footsteps as he leaves. Thank fuck for that.
I turn my gaze over my shoulder and see that I’m the only one in the showers. Maybe he’s left. Maybe I can finish up in peace.
But it doesn’t quite work out that way because as I’m grabbing my towel and drying myself off, I see him lounging back against one of the benches, a thin towel wrapped around his waist, slides on his feet. His gaze flicks up from the phone in his hand, and he smirks.
Shit, why the fuck is he still here?
I don’t ask and don’t say anything, just grab my bag of clothes and make my way around the corner and into the far recesses of the locker room.
No one ever comes back this far, so if he does, I know he’s actively seeking me out.
And if he does that, I want to make it clear that he’s coming to me, not the other way around.
As soon as I drop my bag, I inhale roughly, scrubbing a hand down my damp face. Why the fuck was he just lounging there in a towel? He should have left by now, should have fucked right off.
And who was he texting?
Was he telling someone about me? About us? What we did?
I don’t get a chance to think too much about it because a moment later, he’s in my space.
“You hiding from me?” he asks, his voice low.
“No. Just wanted some privacy from your pervy eyes. Why the fuck are you following me?”
His lips twitch, and he steps toward me. I step back, but he just progresses until I’m backed into the lockers, the cool metal against my bare back, my heart rate kicking up.
“I’m not following you, and I’m not a perv. I just wanted to see the dick I touched a few times up close.”
“Fuck off.”
“You don’t have to be so rude. You can tell me to leave, and I’ll go.”
I don’t say anything, and he chuckles, his fingertip sliding under my towel, the touch making me shudder slightly. Shit, I need to tell him to leave, but I’m unable to do that. The words are stuck in my throat.
They’re just fuckingstuck.
He flicks his wrist, and the towel slips down my legs and puddles at my feet. An exhale leaves me as he stares down at my dick, which is now hard and standing at attention.
Damn thing. Damn guy.
I don’t know why I’m having this reaction to him.
I hate him!
“Very nice,” he mutters and then meets my stare. I swallow, my throat clicking, nerves settling in about what’s going to happen. About what I’ll let him do to me.
“I’m not gay,” is all I manage to murmur.
“Neither am I, but I can admire a nice dick, can’t I?”
