And I'd been hard enough that my jeans were uncomfortable, my thoughts a mess of want and shame and the horrible certainty that I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
I headed downstairs and dumped the clothes in the laundry room. Started sorting through them on autopilot, separating darks from lights, trying to focus on the mechanical task instead of the image burned into my brain.
That's when I found the lace.
I pulled them out and held them up to the light. Definitely not his. The fabric was still damp in places, the scent of sex unmistakable even from here.
He'd been with someone. Brought them home or gone to their place and ended up with their underwear in his pocket like a trophy.
The jealousy that hit me was immediate and irrational and so fucking strong I had to set the underwear down before I did anything stupid like rip it apart.
Troy had been with someone. Had fucked someone. Had come home smelling like sex and leather and probably still buzzing from it.
I picked up the underwear again and studied it. Felt the damp fabric, the evidence of what he'd been doing. Brought it closer and smelled it before I could stop myself.
Come and sweat and the unmistakable smell of sex. Recent enough that it was still there, still strong, still making my cock throb in my jeans like my body had completely given up on having any self-control.
I went back upstairs as quietly as I could. Opened Troy's door just enough to slip inside.
I set the underwear on his floor exactly where I'd found it. Making sure the placement was right, making sure he wouldn't notice it had been moved.
Then I got the fuck out of there.
My bedroom door closed behind me and made it three steps toward the bed before changing direction and heading into the attached bathroom instead.
I locked that door too and leaned against it. Stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked like shit. Eyes too dark, jaw tight, breathing ragged. My cock was straining against my jeans hard enough to hurt, andmy hands were shaking with the need to touch, to take, to do things I had absolutely no right to even think about.
This was wrong. All of it was wrong.
I had never been attracted to men before. Had never looked at another guy and felt the pull of want, the twist of need in my gut. I had been with women my whole life. Had married Troy's mother, for fuck's sake. Had lived a straight life without ever questioning it.
So what the hell was this?
What the hell was happening to me that I was standing in my bathroom with the door locked, rock hard and aching over the sight of my stepson sprawled out on a bed?
I should have been disgusted with myself. Should have been able to shut this down, to remind myself that Troy was family, that this was every kind of fucked up, that I had no business thinking about him like this.
But I couldn't.
The image was burned into my brain. Troy's body. The curve of his ass in those black briefs. The hard line of his cock straining against the fabric. The bruise on his side that made me want to find whoever had put it there and break them apart with my bare hands.
And here I was getting hard over the sight of him sleeping, getting jealous over evidence that he had been with someone else, losing my fucking mind over a man I should have only ever seen as family.
I opened my jeans and shoved them down along with my boxers. My cock sprang free, already leaking, hard enough that it was almost painful.
I wrapped my hand around it and squeezed. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, pleasure cutting through the shame and guilt and every reason this was a terrible idea.
I started stroking. Fast and rough, no finesse, just the desperate need to get this out of my system before it consumed me completely.
I thought about walking into that room. Waking him up. Putting my hands on him the way I had been dying to for years without even realizing it.
Thought about what he would sound like. What he would feel like. Whether he would fight me or give in or both.
Thought about bending him over that bed and showing him exactly what he did to me.
My other hand moved without conscious thought. Slid up under my shirt, found one of my nipples, and twisted. The sharp sting of pain mixed with the pleasure radiating from my cock, and I groaned low in my throat.
