Don’t Tell Our Parents
Heading straight for the stairs, I noticed a low, heavy bass thumping from the second floor.
The higher I climbed, the louder it got, coming directly from Lael's bedroom down the hall.
I walked up to his door and knocked hard. "Lael?"
No answer. Just the music blasting.
I knocked again, harder this time. "Lael, open up!"
Still nothing. Annoyed, I reached out, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.
The words froze in my throat.
Lael was completely naked on his bed, and on top of him was assistant coach Irene—totally bare, gasping as he thrust inside her.