The shower shut off, and my heart leaped into my throat, my pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Then my brain kicked in, and I gasped, taking a few deep breaths. I’d never been this excited and flustered over anyone, not even as a horny schoolboy. Again, I wouldn’t ruin it by trying to puzzle out this conundrum. Just “going with it” seemed to be working so far.
I rolled onto my side again, watching the bathroom door. I heard movement on the other side, then the light went out just before the door opened. I closed my eyes, pretending to still be asleep. The thick carpet muffled his footsteps as he left the bathroom. I opened my eyes just a slit. I couldn’t resist a quick peek.
There wasn’t much to see in the dark room, but a naked shadow in the night—which I found weirdly sexier than if I saw him in full light. Was it themysterythat made it such a turn-on? Absolutely. Frolicking with a man whose face I couldn’t pick out of a lineup… that was fuckinghot.
I tried to breathe normally as he walked around the bed and sat on the opposite side, our backs to each other. It wasn’t easy with my heartbeat hammering in my throat and the fresh scent of shampoo and musk bodywash wafting off him. I fought the urge to crawl closer andsniffhim; he smelled so fuckingdelicious. He had usedmyshampoo and bodywash, but they smelledso much betteron him.
I waited for him to come back to bed—realizing just then how desperately I missed hiscuddle.
He didn’t cuddle me. He just sat there, unmoving, as if… waiting. For what-
It’s my turn to shower.
I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, then quietly crawled out of bed. My legs felt rubbery and wobbly, and breathing was a conscious effort. Luckily, I made it to the bathroom without collapsing, closed the door, and turned on the light.
A light, misty steam hung in the air, heavy with the soapy scents. Droplets of condensation trickled down the mirror around a large smear where the cuddler’s hand had wiped the glass. I looked at my bleary reflection but didn’t stare too long, in case it chose to judge me.
I turned on the shower and stepped into the stall, closing the frosted doors. I immediately began to “sizzle” with sexual energy, knowing the cuddler had stood right there just minutes before—naked, lathering his hard body… maybe even stroking himself while thinking of me? I smiled as a shiver ran through me.
Though the sponge was rinsed clean, I could still smell the fresh scent of my body wash. I squirted a dollop from the bottle, then shivered again as I began washing myself, knowing this very sponge had touched every inch of the cuddler’s body. I’d never been so fuckingjealousof an inanimate object in my life.
I could still feel the cuddler’s cum tacky on my back and in my crack. Thoughts of that last “fuck” revived my erection. My hole throbbed and flexed, making my entire groin ache with an unprecedentedneedto be taken andfucked senseless. The cuddler had theequipmentand theskillto do it right—he’d already proven that.
My mind wandered as I lathered my body. On the one hand, I wanted to rush back to bed… but I also needed this moment to collect myself and justbreathe. I felt like I’d been holding my breath since I woke up to him cuddling me.
So I didn’t rush. Maybe he needed a moment, too.
I thought back to past Valentine’s Days. I’d never been a fan of the holiday. I was usually alone or with someone who didn’t “do it” for me. Mostly, I was alone. I often wondered what it would be like to spend Valentine’s Day with a hot, romantic lover. I’d accepted that I’d probably never find out.
When I left the shower and stood before the mirror again, I met my reflection’s gaze straight on, brave and defiant. There was no judgment; he looked as bewildered as I was about this night.
Do you think he chose Valentine’s Day for this? Or was it a coincidence?
My reflection stared back, clueless… like me. It felt like abigcoincidence, and my heart sank a little at the thought that maybe this wasn’t a specially chosen day. It would have seemed moreromanticif it were.
Romance,my reflection gazed at me dubiously. Is that what you want from this?
I looked into the mirror and watched the realization hit, widening my eyes.
Holy shit—it is.I didn’t just want thesex—I wantedit all;the caresses, the kisses, the intimacy, thecuddles.And I didn’t want it toendafter tonight. I wantedthe morning after.
You have truly gone around the bend, I chided my reflection.Your cheese has done slipped off your cracker.
It must be true, since I was now conversing with my reflection as if it were another person, notmewho wastrippin’.
Might as well embrace the crazy—no escaping it now.
I dried off and rubbed the towel over my head, then ran my fingers through my wet strands—dark brown that looked glossy black when wet. I was handsome-ish. I guess I could see why a hot guy might stalk me and sneak into my bed. If not for the cuddler’sinitiative, I would’ve spent another Valentine’sDay alone—lonely, horny, sex-starved—because, Lord knows, I wouldn’t have gone out and gotten a date on my own.
A date.My reflection cocked an eyebrow. Is that what this is?
I shrugged; it was as close as I would get. And with each passing minute, I was finding myself more and more okay with it.
I started to leave the bathroom, then turned back, plucked my favorite bottle of—fuck mefragrance—cologne from the shelf beside the mirror, and splashed on just a “dash”.
I reached for the door, paused to take a couple of breaths, turned off the light, and stepped into the bedroom.
The first thing I noticed was the red tea-light candle on my nightstand; the tiny flame's glow was barely strong enough to reach my side of the bed, though it made a slight dent in the heavy darkness.
