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Then I hear her.

Bare feet on wood. Quiet, hesitant steps. She’s standing at the edge of the hall, frozen in the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks.

I don’t stop dropping my wrist lower to massage my balls.

“I heard noises, but now I regret coming to check,” she adds, eyes darting between me and the screen.

“Were you worried about me, Sienna?”

“No. And can you turn this off. I don’t want to see this.”

“Then close your eyes.”

She doesn’t. She stays right there. Watching. Breathing hard. One hand wrapped around her arm like she’s trying to keep herself anchored.

I tilt my head. “You like what you see?”

Her lips part, but no words come.

“You’re curious, little bunny,” I coax.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

There it is again.

I grin. Slow. Cruel. “You keep saying that.”

She doesn’t respond. Just keeps staring.

I slow down, make her watch each movement. The rhythm. The sound. The dark, ugly heat of it.

And she stays rooted to the floor like she can’t move even if she wanted to.

The light from the TV paints her face in flashes of red and gold, her mouth parted, eyes wide and locked on the obscene display in front of her. Not the screen. Me.

I slow my hand, savoring the tension.

Her breath stutters.

Then she turns and vanishes down the hall.

I laugh. Quiet. Amused. She could’ve run when she had the chance. But she stayed. Shewatched. That means more than anything she’ll ever admit.

A groan echoes from the other room.

I lean my head back, still lazily stroking myself.

Here we go.

Eli staggers in, shirt twisted, a red mark blooming across his jaw from where I clocked him earlier. He blinks at the TV, then at me, then rubs a hand across his face like he’s not sure if he’s still dreaming.

“What the hell…”

I let go, wipe my hand on a towel, and zip up. Calm. Unbothered.

“Took you long enough,” I say.