Page 57 of Delayed Penalty

Except, maybe he’d come give me a hand because lord knows I could use an orgasm right about now.

He was willing to give you one earlier and you stopped it.

Unable to help myself, I push the door open just a bit further and step into his bedroom. The second I’m inside, I freeze, like he’s going to pop up from somewhere and yell “gotcha” or something. When nothing happens, the shower just continuing on in the background, I start to walk in further, getting closer and closer to the open bathroom door.

I can see the steam billowing out of the bathroom, the window almost fully fogged up, but as I take another step closer, I see Harris perfectly. He’s standing there under the stream of water, one hand resting on the shower tile as his other hand strokes his cock and I feel my jaw drop to the floor.

He’s so fucking sexy like this, unhinged in the moment as he strokes his cock relentlessly. I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t stop watching the way his muscles flex as he strokes himself, the way his head falls back in pleasure as he works himself up, chasing that release we all so desperately crave.

I want to help him.

I want to walk into that bathroom, drop to my knees and suck his cock until he’s pumping every drop of cum down my throat. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid that now I know the truth, that he’s always wanted me, I’ll fall right into his dicksand, trapped again.

Only this time, I want him to lock me up and throw away the key. Never to be taken from him again.

I keep watching him, watching as his eyes roll back, his head hitting the tile as he pumps himself quicker, his grip tightening as he chases his release.

I shouldn’t be watching this. This is so wrong. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to walk away. Hell, I can’t bring myself to do anything except stare at the man in front of me as he masturbates in the shower. I’m pretty sure this is a massive violation of his privacy.

But he left the door open. Both of them.

I can see he’s getting close by the way his movements have sped up, every stroke more frantic. I can see the way his breathing has changed, his breathes becoming more shallow and I can’t help but think he looks fucking breathtaking as he falls apart.

I can’t be here, if I stand here for even another second, I’m going to end up naked and begging for his cock.

Turning around to sneak back, I freeze when I hear my name. Closing my eyes, I stand completely still like if I can’t see him, he can’t see me. Unfortunately, when you’re older than three, that isn’t actually true, regardless of how annoying that fact is.

“Avery, what are you doing here?” Harris asks, his voice strained chasing the orgasm that I’m sure is close enough I could drop to my knees and open my mouth and within two seconds he’d pour it down my throat. But I shouldn’t do that.

Or should I?

Before I can second guess myself, I turn my body back toward Harris, my eyes immediately dropping to his cock where his hand is lazily stroking himself like he wasn’t ready to let the orgasm go quite yet.

“I—I don’t know,” I say, forcing my eyes to make the trek up to his eyes, a feat I should be honored for because his dick is a national treasure. “I was coming to talk to you, but the door, and then I… I couldn’t bring myself to, so I was going back to my room.”

Thinking with my vagina, my eyes immediately drop back down when I see his biceps flexing, the motion so seductive as he picks up the pace.

“Is that what you want to do? To go back to your room, Ave?”

“Yes… no… fuck, I don’t know,” I groan, and he just grins, his dirty blonde hair wet and thrown back, water droplets falling down his chest, past his abs and then falling down his cock like a water faucet designed with me in mind.

Who am I fucking kidding? Of course, I don’t want to go back to my room. Just because sleeping together would make things too messy that doesn’t mean that we can’t help each other out, right?

“No… I don’t.”

“Then get your ass over here. Get on your knees and help your husband come,” he growls and fucking hell it’s like his words have a main line to my control panel, my body immediately listening.

In just moments I’ve made my way into the bathroom, stepping into the shower under the spray of water, and drop tomy knees at his feet, fully clothed. Looking up at him through my lashes, in such a vulnerable position, I’m surprised when I feel powerful.

I feel in control of this situation because it’s where I want to be.

Kneeling there at his feet, the water trickling down his body and splashing on to me, I wait to hear what’s next.

“Arms up,” he says, and I obey, allowing him to lift my shirt from my body before he tosses it into a pile outside the shower, leaving my topless.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, one hand caressing my cheek while his other hand returns to his cock, stroking slowly his jaw clenches as he hangs onto the last thread of his restraint.

I’m tired of his restraint, though.

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