Ugh.
The evening before, I’d made a pot of beef stew—something hearty and filling—since they’ddemolishedthe chili I cooked that Saturday like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. So luckily, they were good on lunch and dinner for the day. But breakfast? Yeah… that was still on me. Since I was on cooking duty for the rest of the trip and wasobligatedto cookat leastone meal a day, that day, it was breakfast.
I groaned, rolled out of bed, gave a half-stretch like that was going to make me feel better, then slipped on my house shoes to find the nearest bathroom and pee before getting started.
The hallway was a little too quiet for how many adults with different personalities were packed in that cabin.
The door to the bathroom was cracked, so I assumed somebody must’ve left it that way. So, naturally, I walked in with my head down, phone in hand, and mind still foggy from sleep and morning attitude. What Iwasn’tfocused on… ordamn surewasn’t prepared to see wasBryce.
Dripping… shirtless… fresh out of the shower.
Steam danced off his skin like it was seduced by the heat he carried, and a white towel hung dangerously low on his waist, clinging to his hips like it was afraid to fall. And right there— arrogant and unforgiving, under the fabric—was the unmistakable outline of him. His print stretched the towel like it had a mind of its own. That damn thing wasn’t even trying to hide; it was trying to remind me what it used to do, whatheused to do, and what I used to beg for with legs trembling and voice hoarse. One wrong move, and all our old business was gonna be on display like it never ended.
What the hell is he doing in here anyway, when he’s sleeping upstairs, and there are two bathrooms up there?I wondered.
“Shit! Sorry!” I yelped, then spun around, hand covering my eyes like I hadn’t already memorized the curve, the thickness, and the damnswing.
Somehow—through God or panic—I managed toclosethe door on my way out. I fumbled for the doorknob, blindly reaching, only for his warm and familiar hand to gently catch my wrist.
“Chess.”
Bryce’s voice was deep, a little raspy, and too dangerous.
“Bryce, I didn’t know—” I blurted out, still facing the door like it could save me from the memory of how that dick used tosplit me in half and ruin my sense of direction.
He leaned in close enough for his chest heat to cling to my back, for the steam rolling off his body to kiss my shoulders like a warning.
His voice brushed my neck, low and lazy, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “You already seen it, baby. Might as well look me in the face while you act like you ain’t missing it.”
My knees damn near buckled. ,
Bryce pulled himself away.
“Turn around,” he instructed in a calm, commanding, and sinful tone.
Like a horny fool with no sense of self-preservation, I turned around slowly.
And there it was.
Bryce had dropped the towel.
My eyes fluttered open like a damn idiot who should’ve known better.
His dick was thick, dark, hard, and veined like a weapon forged for destruction. It stood proud and heavy, a slow, dangerous curve at the tip that made my thighs clench on instinct. That thing wasn’t just big; it wascommanding, like it expected my body to remember its job… and my pussy damn sure did. I could already feel that familiar stretch, that deep, aching burn that used to have me crying his name into the sheets.
My breath got caught somewhere between a prayer and a moan.
“Ain’t nothing new, right?” he teased, voice low and smug, eyes never leaving mine. “Just upgraded… lil’ longer… lil’ thicker.” His hand slid around the base, stroking slow, and deliberate, making it jump. “Still yours if you want it.”
My knees damn near gave out. Heat rushed straight to my core, slick and needy, my body betraying every damn boundary my mind tried to hold.
And the worst part? I knew exactly how good it felt.
“Bryce,” I warned, trying to step back… but he stepped forward.
The scent of cedarwood and steam filled the air. And then… he pressed into me.
Bryce’s dick rested right against the soft ache between my thighs. No barriers were left; just hot skin to skin.
