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someone else.
    I reached around to stroke him, but even then, there I was—looking right back at us from the mirror.
    I could turn off the light, but that would be too obviously weird, leaving us panting and puffing in the windowless, pitch-black room. The shower—I could turn that on and steam up the mirror so all I saw were shapes. But I couldn’t reach the tap. And we’d never gotten around to upgrading our hot water heater.
    “Harder,” Jacob mumbled into his arm. “I’m ready.” Oh—he thought I’d been taking it slow for his benefit, and not figuring out a way to stop seeing myself. I shut my eyes and focused on the tightness, the feel of myself gliding in and out, in and out, the way he arched under me to meet each thrust. So hot. So slick. So tight.
    Then I opened one eye, and there I was. Damn it.
    I pulled out, flipped the toilet seat down, and sat. “C’mon, get on top of me. I want to look at you face-to-face while I’m in you.” I wanted to look at anything but the mirror—but I thought it was a pretty good excuse.
    Jacob straddled me, and his quads bulged as he found his position with the deliberation he’d use mounting a machine at the gym. I strongly suspected he was working his abs as he did it.
    He braced himself on the towel bar behind my head and lowered himself gingerly, until the fine hairs that dusted his ass and my thighs tickled together. “How’s that?” he said.
    “Tight.”
    He grunted, and began to move. It was awfully intense, watching him watching me—watching him trying to get me off—but it was a hell of a lot better than the sight in the mirror. I lubed my hand again and started to work his cock like I meant it. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and shuddered all over.
    His eyes closed and he focused hard on just moving, riding my cock.
    He found his rhythm and worked it, and I jacked him with one hand and held him by the hip with the other so I could feel his body rise and fall. His face—what cheekbones. What a mouth. Great eyebrows, too. Expressive. A hitch formed between them, and he said, “Is it good for you?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You’re so quiet.”
    “I am?”
    “Yeah. I mean, usually….”
    “Oh, uh…it’s different. A different feeling. But just as good. Totally.” He shifted his angle, as if he didn’t believe me—like he thought he couldn’t please me, not that way, without some serious determina-tion and focus.
    Crap. The last thing I needed was for both of us to have an inferiority complex. I tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound fake.

    “You know how tight you are? So tight I can hardly breathe, let alone talk to you.”
    His expression softened, but he kept on riding me like this thing we were doing was a puzzle, and he needed to crack the code.
    He clenched himself harder—and now I was positive he was working his abs, because I could feel contractions rolling through him, coaxing me to come.
    My breath caught, and my hand flew over his cock. “Come with me inside you,” I gasped. “I wanna see that. Come for me.” Jacob raked his jaw over his biceps to wipe away the sweat that was starting to bead his face from all the quad work. “Touch my balls.” I let go of his waist and slipped my other hand between us. It felt weird, no two ways about it—his taut ass slapping down on my hipbones. He’d probably have a bruise in the shape of my pelvis to show for our experiment. Stroking his nuts seemed to turn up the heat.
    He threw his head back, and the way his body clenched me started to feel less deliberate. I dug it, the trembling contractions, erratic, desperate.
    “I’m gonna come…” I whispered. “You’re making me come…”
    “Fuck, yeah.” He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, squeezed his ass around me too, and damn, there it was, a surge, and another surge, and fuck, it was so hot and so wet, my juice inside him—and it was worth it, totally worth it, even if I’d looked like a big