...Sebastian finished his search with one room left to go. The last thing he wanted was for Tess to catch him. Maybe he’d try to come back tomorrow, when she left for the shop. His hand hesitated on the doorknob. An agonized half-shout/half-moan came from inside. He rushed through the door, not knowing what to expect. The bed lay empty and her clothes were scattered over the edge of a hamper in one corner of the room. Another groan sent him to the open bathroom door. A large mirror, half-fogged from the steam, hung above the sink.

Tess lay in the bathtub, one smooth leg dangling over the rim, the other bent at the knee. The water lapped at her nipples. Those big blue eyes of hers were closed. Her lips parted and her neck arched backward as she moaned, just a little.

His heart drummed in his chest, mouth parched as he tried to swallow, his eyes glued to the image reflected in the mirror. One of her hands rose from the water to pluck at her nipples. His own hand crept down to the bulge in his slacks. He timed his strokes to synchronize with hers. His balls tightened, blood racing to his thickened cock.

She bucked once, twice, lifting out of the tub enough for him to see the glorious wet blonde curls between her legs, her hand parting the slippery folds with deft fingers. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, and rubbed the glistening head, spreading the seeping pre-come over his shaft as a lubricant.

He pistoned himself in his hand, wishing it was her pussy grasping him tight. He’d lick her sweet juice until she begged for him to fuck her. He tried to suppress a groan, balls aching for release. His eyes closed, and he clenched his jaw muscles. No. Not here. He squeezed his rod until it hurt.

She couldn’t know he’d invaded her privacy. That he’d seen her pleasuring herself. He forced himself back in his slacks and carefully rezipped.

The sound of splashing broke the sensuous spell.

Dammit! She was getting out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her breasts. She turned and bent to pull the stopper plug. He hurried from the room, practically tripping down the stairs in his haste. Pendragon sat at the bottom of the staircase, licking his paw, a feline smirk on his whiskered face. The cat stopped mid-motion, looked at the huge hard-on Sebastian sported, and meowed in question.