I stood under the spray longer than I needed to.
The water ran hot over my shoulders, down my back, between my legs. I kept my hands on the tiled wall and forced myself not to touch. Every time my fingers twitched toward my c**t I heard his voice again—if you do, I’m coming in—and the threat alone made me wetter.
When I finally stepped out, the bathroom mirror was fogged. I wiped a clear streak with my palm and stared at my own flushed face. My n*****s were still tight. My thighs pressed together like they could hide how empty I felt.
I pulled on one of my brother’s old T-shirts and a clean pair of underwear. Nothing else. The shirt hit mid-thigh. I left the bathroom door open the way he’d told me to and walked into the guest room.
The lamp on the nightstand was already on. The bed was
