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after him. His high school parade of girlfriends had all seen his room at one point or another. Ashlynn had endured more than one tearfully sleepless night, imagining him with other girls. Really, her stepbrother had every right to bring someone over. Hell, Ashlynn could bring home someone, too. They were both legally adults, after all. The time for sneaking around had officially passed.
    On closer inspection, though, Ashlynn noted a definite absence of real-life girly sighs coming from Reese's room. The womanly sound she'd heard came from the television, which shouldn't surprise her. Reese was a healthy, red-blooded male and she knew he had a penchant for jerking it whenever the mood took him. When they had actively shared a roof, she had lurked outside his bedroom during his private time.
    Listening in was a sick fetish, she knew, but nothing got her hotter than hearing his faint whimper and moan, her mind conjuring images of what her eyes couldn't see.
    Apparently, old habits die hard.
    "I'm sick," Ashlynn murmured, wandering toward her stepbrother's door. "I need help, because I'm sick."
    As she drifted closer, the sounds on the television became more prominent, and the cheesy music and the heavy moans left little room for mystery.
    Porn. She'd never watched porn, but she had enough street knowledge to know what it sounded like. Plus, and more to the point, her eavesdropping had long ago revealed Reese loved porn, although she'd never caught him actually watching any.
    Perhaps he kept the sound muted to spare the folks' sensibilities. He had not muted it today.
    He also hadn't closed the door all the way.
    Just walk away. Turn around and walk away.
    But she couldn't walk away. Reese's door stood cracked open, which meant for the first time, she could sneak a full peek at what kept her up at night. Nothing kept her from pressing an eye to the crack, her wide, eager gaze landing immediately on her stepbrother's faultless form. The scraggly kid she'd thought cute in a funny way had grown into a model of male perfection: toned abs and well-roped muscles in a body that didn't dwarf her like her past few boyfriends. He fed fantasies just by existing.

    Ashlynn glanced quickly at his cock, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from squeaking. Her actions didn't seem too incriminating if she didn't outright gawk. Right.
    Telling herself lies didn't excuse spying on a stark-naked Reese as he beat himself off.
    She'd peeked. She'd spied. Might as well go all in. She looked again, and this time her gaze held. He was long and thick, as she'd always thought he'd be. At once, the puzzle pieces she'd hoarded from glimpses stolen over the years formed an all-out, Technicolor visual.
    He didn't take the time she would with his strokes, were she given the opportunity. Rather, his movements seemed bloodless, almost bored. Reese probably sought a quick release, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, while waiting for whatever plans he'd made for the day to take shape. Were she between his legs, the story would have a different ending. She'd do her damnedest to make it long and memorable.
    She'd show him how she felt in a manner that left nothing to the imagination.
    Bloodless or not, rushed or not, Reese's hand pumped his cock toward orgasm.
    Ashlynn bit back another whimper. She pressed her thighs together. Heat laced through her body, centering on the apex of her legs. Fantasies were one thing—seeing a fantasy realized, even from afar, had her trembling, and buzzed on something more than just arousal.
    Liquid warmth pooled between her pussy lips; her heart hammered and her temples pulsed. She needed to see more. She needed to be closer. She needed a thousand things.
    On the screen, some blonde on all fours got pounded from behind while her mouth worked on another guy's dick. Ashlynn licked her lips. In all honesty, she should have first considered the sounds were from a smut film rather than jumping to the conclusion he'd brought a woman over. She