I leaned into the shadows of the narrowly opened door, hitched a hip against the wall, and angled my fingers down my flat belly into the crease between my jean shorts and skin.
And I touched myself while I watched my foster brother fuck another girl.
My clit was hard and burning like banked coal. I rolled my fingers over it, desperate to come after only seconds of play because the sight of Nova had lit me on fire from the inside out. When he threw the sheet back, I bit off the end of my gasp and trembled.
His ass was high and taut, twin golden moons of flesh dimpled at each side with thick muscle. I wanted to bite into that swell while I played my hand in the shadow between his thighs, trace the seam of his balls and wrap my eager fingers around his cock.
I wanted to feel the heft of him in my palm.
Sweat beaded on my crown, and a drop crawled slowly down my temple.
The woman groaned in ecstasy as he ground into her at the end of each thrust. For an awful, desperate second, I thought about grinding against the doorframe, needing to feel how he might feel against her.
Instead, I tweaked my nipple with my free hand and choked off a moan.
Nova pulled away abruptly, and I froze, fingers pressed to my clit like a stamp, chest heaving, hoping he wouldn’t look my way.
He didn’t.
Instead, without pulling out, he stood at the end of the bed and dragged the woman back onto his cock, shifting her legs onto his shoulders. I could see his profile then, tight with passion, flushed with leashed ferocity. He wanted to move faster, harder. He wanted to ruin her, but he didn’t. Something held him back so that only a glimmer of his true dark desires could be seen in his gritted teeth and flashing brown eyes.
Watching him was intensely erotic, the infelicity of spying on a man, and not just any man but Nova, my foster brother, my best friend, heightened everything like a drug.
I’d never been so turned on, which wasn’t surprising given that I was a virgin, waiting against all odds for the man currently fucking another woman with abandon to notice me. But I’d always possessed a vivid imagination, and it was all too easy to replace her with me.
My breath stuttered through my lips as my hand thrummed faster over my clit, and the moment Nova opened his mouth to speak, I knew it would be the spark to raze my self-control to the ground.
“Take it,” he grunted, his hand shifting from a fist on the bed to her throat, where it wrapped firmly. “Take my cock, and make me come.”
Everything in me paused for one choked moment. My hand on my clit, my breath in my lungs, my racing heartbeat. Like a stuck zipper before being released, I crashed to a brief halt and then spilled open. My pussy made obscene wet noises as I worked it through my orgasm, and my breath exploded out from my lungs. Luckily, the couple made even more sound, gasping and grunting, reduced to animals in their ecstasy.
I wrung myself dry with slow, gentle circles on my clit as I came down, leaning heavily against the doorframe. My gaze was unfocused, and I’d lost my urgency and vigilance in my post-coital haze.
That’s why I wasn’t expecting it when Nova finally righted himself and stared directly at me through the crack in the door.
His cock glimmered in the dim light, wet and still mostly hard, long and thick, pulsing so hard it seemed to jump slightly in the air.
Unconsciously, I licked my lips, heart still hammering, caught but too aroused to cogitate what to do about it.
And Nova?
He just stared at me.
For one long, molasses second that felt like an eternity, I looked across the sex-scented room into his handsome, sex slackened face and tried to read his reaction.
He gave me nothing.
Instead, after a moment, his gaze cut to the woman curling like a satisfied cat on the bed, and he smirked at her, giving her exposed ass a swat before he moved toward the door.
Toward me.
I held my breath but didn’t move, paralyzed as prey sensing a predator.
And then he was in front of me. So close I could’ve counted the droplets of sweat rolling down his smooth, tattooed chest, see the flush of pink at the base of the lotus tattoo I’d watched him have inked onto his throat.
My eyes darted up to his, and my mouth opened. To say what, I had no idea.
But before I could make a sound, he closed the door.
Right in my face.
Behind the wood I could hear deep laughter and a high giggle as he rejoined the girl in bed.
Struck dumb by the experience, by his response, I removed my hand from the lip of my jean shorts and wiped the stickiness on my thigh before I went to the bathroom to clean up. The mirror showed me, grown up and out, finally developed with curves many men had told me they wanted access to.