I turn the Jacuzzi off so that the only sound is the mild sloshing of the water as I pull my leg back into the tub.
The bathroom door swings open. I duck down just in time, submerging everything but my face in the water.
It’s him.
Killian.
I know just by his breathing.
“Connor, this asshole is showing up at the office every day,” he growls from the doorway.
Dear God, are two of them in the bathroom?
I hear the distant sound of a male answering him. No… he’s just on the phone.
He can’t see me because the bathroom is the size of a one-bed apartment, and I’m hunkered down in the tub at the far end.
Now is the right time to wave a hand and communicate my presence.
Except I’m naked, and that’s a tad inconvenient.
Slowly, I lift my head to peek out over the tub.
He’s completely naked. He’s growling something down the phone something about a casino in Brooklyn as he strides toward the shower.
I push my head back down again, my heart hammering.
I only saw his massive cock for a few seconds, but it will be forever ingrained in my memory. No wonder he’s so arrogant. All those liquidized almonds are paying off for him.
What’s my action plan?
What the hell am I doing? Why don’t I speak up? Why don’t I say I’m in the bath? Hmm. It feels like I’m one bad decision away from getting fired.
I hear the shower door slide open.
My action plan is just to breathe. Breathe, woman, breathe.
I’m past the point of no return now. Too much time has passed, and I can’t just pipe up and say, “heya. Don’t mind me!”
I brave another peek. He steps inside the shower and turns it on from above. Now I have a side view of that magnificent muscular ass and his heavy cock.
He spreads his large thighs wider as he directs his face against the stream of water from the ceiling. His eyes must be closed. He’s in his own world.
Damn. His back muscles look even better with water running down them.
And those thighs. I love rugby player thighs.
He turns to face me, and I bite my lower lip to stop myself from squealing.
I’m playing with fire, not hiding. As panicked as I am, I can’t look away. His eyes are closed as he lets the water run over his face, but he could open them at any moment.
I greedily take in every inch of his broad, toned body. The water runs down his V to his thick cock. That’s definitely a two-hander. My pussy clenches as I imagine his cock driving into me.
He runs both hands through his hair, and dear God, I swear it might be the most arousing sight of my life. I’m melting in the bath water.
Any dick after this will be suboptimal.
The man has to have some physical flaw; he can’t be perfect. He must have bunions or something. His toes looked a bit hairy the night Liam tried to kidnap me.
After a long moment, he lifts the shower gel and smears it across his chest.
Now is my cue to duck back into the water. If I’m quiet, I can get away with this. He’ll never know I’m here.
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.
Sounds of movement come from 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’s me.
It’s one of my plie 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 of me.
“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? Does living with someone cause synchronization of masturbation?
The hand not fisting his cock fumbles with the phone, and the sound lowers, so my Irish accent disappears.
Should I be offended?
His breathing grows more aggressive and labored. He’s no longer looking at the video. He’s too far gone. His hips rock as I wonder if he’s imagining thrusting into me right now.
His forehead leans against the shower wall as he stiffens, buttocks clenched.
His whole body tightens and shudders with a guttural growl that reverberates into my clit.
With a final jerk, every muscle in his body clenches and stiffens, and he comes hard.
Niagara Falls style.
I stop breathing. I can’t cope with this.
His release seems to last an eternity. It streams down his thighs, being washed away by the water. His hands brace against the wall to steady himself.
Every muscle in my body clenches with him as if we’re connected. I’m terrified, confused, and aroused, all rolled into one.
“Fuck,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
I duck my head down again and close my eyes. Show’s over.
Shallow, quiet breaths and you’ll get through this. Be brave.
The shower door slides open. He clears his throat awkwardly as I hear him rubbing his skin with a towel.