I should turn on my heel and sprint in the opposite direction. But my feet felt like they were rooted to the floorboards.
I was spellbound as I watched his free hand slide up, his fingers finding his n****e through the damp material, and he tweaked it before squeezing it with deliberate pressure.
My breath hitched in my throat when a low moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaped his throat, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe, my vision narrowing until the only thing in the world was the boy in the shadows.
Matthew’s hand slid down, his eyes still focused on whatever was on his phone screen. He gripped himself through the fabric, his large hand squeezing the thick, heavy ridge that was straining against the green polyester.
