Page 65 of Fifth Avenue Fling

Hurry up, man. You’re clean!

My throat is tickly. I have the urge to cough, but I’m fighting it, swallowing hard to quell the sensation. My nerves rise as the itch refuses to go away.

A loud groan from the shower makes me jump out of my skin. Followed by another lower one.

No.

Please no.

Not here. Not now.

Soundsofmovementcomefrom the shower.Maybe he isn’t doing what I think.

“Hi, guys!” says a chirpy female American voice. “I’ve missed you. It’s super hot here in Cali, so I’m going to get more comfortable.” There’s a pause.

“Oh, that feels so much better,” she coos in a low, breathy tone.

By the sound of Killian’s heavy breathing, I can only presume she’s taking off her clothes.

This is not good. He’ll be furious if he knows I’m witnessing his personal library of fantasies firsthand.

The female stops talking, and there are more sounds of movement from Killian.

A second woman speaks up, her voice raspier and less cheerful. “You’ll be feelin’ the burn in your legs after ten minutes of this,” she says.

For a second, I think I’ve spoken. It’s the only explanation for why I can hear my own voice.

It’sme.

It’s one of my plié squat classes that I put on YouTube.

I have to look. I’ll regret this for the rest of my life if I don’t.

Killian groans louder, a fierce sound that sends heat racing through my body.

I poke my head up.

One palm rests against the shower wall above his head while the other aggressively fists up and down his length.

I can just about make out his phone through the steam, resting on the shower tray in front of him.

“It really works your inner thighs, so it does,” I say on the video.

Killian Quinn is masturbating to a homemade Pilates video ofme.

“Clodagh.” It’s a low and drawn-out groan. It sounds like he’s in pain. No man has said my name like that before. I feel it between my thighs. “Yes.”

He pumps his thick, angry cock harder and faster as I hear my voice instructing viewers to widen their legs into a nice deep squat. I watch his sexy forearm strain as he pumps.

Yes. I agree with him. Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes.

It’s an enormous penis. A beast twice the size of anything I’ve ever experienced. That thing would rip me apart. Fact.

I wish I could see his face properly. I want to see what he looks like when he comes apart.

My hand slaps over my mouth to stop myself from screaming as another groan rumbles from him. Delicious female ear candy.

Is this like menstrual clocks? Doeslivingwithsomeonecausesynchronizationofmasturbation?

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