Page 135 of Please Open Me
Fuck–I needed therapy.
Fuck–
“Seb!” Cameron’s drawl boomed from the bottom of the house. “Come downstairs!”
My eyes snapped open as I drew in a breath. The world was blurry, thanks to my lack of glasses, but that didn’t fucking matter. No way in hell was I going downstairs fully erect.
I braced a hand against the foggy glass as I tried to force my body to just hurry up and cum so I could go down and ask Cameron how everything went. My heart pounded harder, and my body tensed as I prepared to beat myself into release, and then the door creaked open.
I froze, hand locked onto my cock.
Soft steps cut through the hiss of water, and my heart nearly beat out of my skin.
“Sebastian?” Mason’s accent hit my ears with all the force of a freight train.
God, if you’re real, kill me right now.
“H–hey, Princess.” I tried to sound even, but my words rattled like dead leaves on a branch. “I–I didn’t know you would be home today.”
“I didn’t plan on it, but things change… we’re having a family meeting downstairs.”
“I’ll be there i-in just a second.” My voice cracked halfway through, and I hoped to God she didn’t notice.
But her outline meandered closer to the fogged glass, and before I could stop what I was doing, the door wrenched open.
Cold air rushed in, and there she stood. Still blurry as fuck, but close enough for me to start making out her features. I’d like to say I kept my cool, but that’d be a lie.
I screamed like I’d just seen a spider and used both hands to cover my dick.
Mason jerked back at the sound and covered her eyes, like that would erase the total evasion of privacy.
“I’m sorry!” she squeaked.
Enough sense returned to me to shut off the shower and grab a towel from the nearby rack.
I yanked the towel around my waist, nearly tripping in the process. My glasses were somewhere on the sink, but I wasn’t about to stumble around half-blind with my dick swinging around.
“There’s no need to be sorry,” I breathed, just glad to have her back.
Mason audibly swallowed before parting her fingers. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at, but I assumed it was anything other than my crotch.
“I like your hair,” she said shyly.
With one hand on the towel, I speared the other through my hair, only vaguely remembering the blue roots–well, they were supposed to be blue. But the natural brassy color of my hair bled through, leaving it a dull green.
“Thank you… I like yours too.”
That was a bold-faced lie. I hated the silver streaks, mostly because I knewMasonlikely detested them.
“Do you need help?” she asked, extending a finger towards my waist.
I froze, discreetly pinched myself to make sure this was real, and stepped out onto the ledge separating the shower from the bathroom. The shower wasn’t too raised, but just a few inches was enough to bring Mason exactly waist level, and while this felt like too good of an opportunity to waste, I didn’t trust it.
“Princess, we just had the biggest fucking argument of our lives, why would you suck my dick?” Somehow, boiling this down to an argument felt like it diminished what actually happened.
Mason lifted a shoulder.
“It feels normal for us, and I really need that bit of normalcy,” she softly admitted.
