I stepped in front of the window at exactly 9 on the dot.
The red silk robe smooth against my skin, the hem brushing my mid-thigh. My n*****s were already so hard they ached, pressing visibly against the thin fabric.
Across the street, Room 1212 glowed like a night club. Jonah stood in the center, shirtless, his gray sweatpants slung so low I could see the deep V cutting, lined with veins into his pants. One hand held his phone, the other was wrapped around the thick base of his c**k, stroking slowly, giving it deliberate pulls.
My phone vibrated against the windowsill, it was a video call.
I answered.
The screen split, his hotel room behind him, and me framed in my own window like a live painting.
“Look at you,” he rasped, the moment I answered the call. “Red silk, the city lights
