Oh my God, he sounded in pain. Did he slip in the shower?
I take the last two steps at once and turn left at the landing, dashing for the bathroom. The door stands open a crack and my face flushes as I stop with my fingers on the handle.
I didn’t hear a crash, but he sounded off. What if he needs help?
I gather my courage and push the door open a bit further. Steamy air hits my face, smelling like pines and smoke. I spot Rust’s clothes in a pile on the floor… and a glimpse of him in the large mirror above the sink.
My pulse skips.
Oh, fuck. He’s not injured. He’s not in pain.
My ex-husband is touching himself while saying my name.
Rust’s large hand is wrapped around his thick, veiny shaft, stroking languidly. The tip of his impressive dick is engorged and reddened with lust.
I remember him being big. Butthisbig?
My nipples tighten as I watch him fuck his own fist, the muscles in his forearm bunching with each twisting movement. His thumb swirls over his cockhead and he screws his eyes shut in pleasure.
This really ain’t the boy I loved and lost. But something about the line of his shoulders is still familiar. How thick foam catches on a patch of dark chest hair reminds me of the first time I laid my hand on his heart. A trickle slides down his stomach, following a thin happy trail.
Look away!I shout internally.
But I don’t.
I should avert my eyes.
But I can’t.
Fantasizing about my ex-husband’s juicy ass within the privacy of my own thoughts is one thing. It’s still inappropriate, but it ain’t hurting a soul.
What I’m doing right now is borderline criminal, though. Restraining order worthy. It’s also indescribably hot.
My panties grow damp as I give myselfa mental countdown. On three, I’ll close the door and walk away like a good girl. This was a misunderstanding.
One.
Two.
Thr–
“Fuck, Tally… your pussy feels even better than I remember…” Rust moans and my brain short-circuits.
10
TALLY
Hearingmy name in his lust-drunk drawl again obliterates my ability to think clearly. Heat rushes through my veins, burning away every shred of decency I have left.
Damn, I don’t wanna be good anymore.
I want to be a bad girl.
I open my belt, pop the button of my jeans, tug down the zipper and push a hand into my soaked panties. My fingers slip on my slick flesh as I draw impatient circles over my swollen clit. Rust pumps his dick faster and I match the speed of his strokes.
I lose myself in the buzz of fire in my center. A moan falls from my lips and Rust’s eyes fly open, meeting mine in the mirror.
“You truly have no shame, Trouble.”
