Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Oh, God. Oh, God.
I was in so much trouble.
Why hadn’t I left the moment I’d realised he was in the shower? Why had I stood there watching him touch himself?
Why was he touching himself in that shower? What was wrong with his own bathroom? He knew I always took a bath after doing yoga, so why was he in there?
I curled into a ball, removing my earbuds and clenching my legs together. There was nothing small or dull about the arousal I felt flooding my body, and the aching of my clit was almost unbearable.
No.
No.
No.
I could not be this turned on. Not by him.
“Chloe?” He knocked at my door. “What are—”
“Please leave,” I called back, clenching my legs even tighter together like it would stop the ache.
All it did was make it worse thanks to the seam of my yoga pants pressing against my clit.
“I’m embarrassed and need some time,” I said before he could argue. “I didn’t hear anything, and I didn’t see much, so don’t worry.”
He said nothing for a moment before finally, “All right. I’ll finish up and let you know when the bath is free.”
Finish up?
Finish?
What was he going to finish?
Washing his hair? Or his little self-care session?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I rolled onto my back with my legs still squeezed tightly together and threw my arm over my eyes. Surely, he didn’t mean that he’d finish touching himself, did he? Maybe he did. He’d come in about halfway through my video and if he’d immediately gone to the shower then, perhaps he’d already washed himself, and—
What was I thinking?
This was not solving my downstairs problem. Thinking about him in the shower with the mental image I already had was doing nothing to calm the ache between my legs.
Did I really only have one option here?
It wasn’t like I could walk into the bathroom and be like, “Hey, I caught you touching yourself in the shower and it turned me on, do something about it, you bastard.”
I was pretty open-minded and forward sexually speaking, but there was no way I could say that.
Not to him.
He. Was. My. Boss.
Dealing with this arousal myself wasn’t exactly the best moral outcome here either, but I knew my body well enough to know it wasn’t going to disappear by itself.
Without my earbuds in, I could clearly hear the shower running, even through my closed bedroom door.
Was he really finishing up in there? Was he really finishing off touching himself?
“Shit,” I whispered, sliding my hand down between my legs. My fingers brushed over the outside of my yoga pants, and my muscles clenched when I pressed hard as if it would stem the ache.
I would need more than a hot bath after what I was about to do.
I would need to bathe in bloody holy water.
I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of my yoga pants, parting my legs. Evidence of my arousal was on my underwear as I slid them to the side and touched my fingers to my clit. My fingers moved easily through my wetness, and I bit the inside of my lower lip as I gently pushed one inside myself.
The side of my hand beneath my thumb brushed against my clit, and I adjusted my hips, adding a second finger. I moved them slowly as the shame of what I was doing washed over me.
I was masturbating over my boss.
Over my naked, wet, boss who might have been touching himself in the shower at that very moment.
“Ah,” I breathed, then quickly covered my mouth.
Why was I so turned on by this? By the thought of him stroking his cock in the shower right now as I touched myself?
I was wrong. This was wrong. He was right there, and I was lying here, fucking myself with my fingers at the thought of him getting off.
I needed to finish this.
I slid my fingers out and up towards my clit and quickly found the sensitive spot. I turned my face so my mouth was buried in the crook of my elbow to muffle my quiet moans, then rubbed my clit with my middle finger.
The pleasure that’d built up inside me since the moment I’d laid eyes on Theodore pleasuring himself quickly spilt over, sweeping through me in less than a minute. My clit throbbed beneath my fingertip, and my previously tensed muscles released aside from some light twitching.
What was I doing?
My phone vibrated on the other side of the bed, and I gasped, yanking my hand out from between my legs and wiping my fingers on my yoga pants. They were dirty anyway, and I’d dropped my towel, and I’d already lost my whole fucking mind, so what was a little more stupidity today?
I grabbed my phone with the least sinful of my two hands and typed in my passcode to read the text.