Willow's Willing

Celtic Iron plants himself outside Willow Ryder's bathroom door, eye pressed to the keyhole like a horny idiot with no self-control. The damn thing squeaks, but she's already peeled her tank top over her head and he isn't stopping now. She's about to step into the shower when she glances over, catches the glint, and freezes. Towel dangling from her fingers. Nothing but bare skin, and of course Celtic's cock is fighting its way out of his jeans like it wants to say hello. She smirks, tilts her head. "If you're gonna stare, at least come put that to work." She kicks the door wider and leans back against the sink, hip cocked, letting him know the show's just starting—and admission's paid in full.