Page 54 of Make You Beg

I leave my room, and he’s walking up the stairs. He doesn’t even look at me, beelining to the bathroom with a towel over his shoulder. It’s the closest door to the top of the staircase, while my room is farther away, so it makes sense he didn’t see me come out.

The sound of streaming water reassures me he’s taking a shower.

Great. More waiting.

I go back into my room, and debate whether to write him a note and stick it on his door or use the red puck. We have a designated area for it now—downstairs in our home library, on the bookshelf closest to the door, so whoever wants to use it can find it easily. We discussed it during dinner one day, one of our longest interactions before we started college. No one has taken it out since then—it should be there.

I decide the puck’s the better option.

I make my way to the library and pick it up. I’m about to leave it by the door of his bedroom, but decide it’d be better to rest it beside the bathroom instead. That way, he’ll see it right away.

I’m crouching by the bathroom door, red puck still in hand, when I hear it. Mixed in the sounds of water hitting the floor. A moan.

Leaving the puck on the floor, I stand up. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I lean closer to the wooden door, my ear pressed against it.

What the hell am I doing?

Another quiet moan, this time resembling more of a groan.

Is that…skin slapping?

My eyes widen, and a hand flies to my mouth.

Is Kayden…jerking off?

God. There are two bathrooms in the house, and he has to come upstairs to the one near my room to do it?

A pressure forms between my legs, and my heart thrums in my throat, my own body betraying my annoyance.

I shouldn’t be listening to this. I should get away as fast as possible.

Yet, I can’t help myself. Something inside me draws me closer. My ear is glued to the door.

What is wrong with me?

“Fuck, yes,” he whispers, his breath ragged.

I bring a hand to my chest, the tenderness in my body becoming evident as my fingers brush my nipple.

Closing my eyes, I imagine being there with Kayden, under the scorching hot stream of water.

My hand trails down my stomach and slips into my pajama pants. I massage my folds over my panties, gnawing at my lip. His moans fill the background, and a delicious sensation overpowers me as I draw circles over the fabric of my underwear with my fingers. God.

I shouldn’t do this. Not while hearing Kayden moaning on the other side.

A fuck, slips out of his lips again. Along with a That’s it, baby, and I press my thighs together.

My eyes are still closed, and I tug my underwear to the side, eager to feel my wetness.

That’s when a bump startles me. I’m leaning against the door, from the side, and accidentally bumped my temple against it.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

Taking my hand out of my panties, I rush to my room.

There are so many reasons why this is bad.

For starters, Kayden will know I was there, listening to him like a pervert.