When the pulsing of my orgasm finally finishes Cain drags his fingers out of me with a curse. His palms glide over the silk of my thong, smoothing it in place against my skin with a deliberate slowness before reaching for the zipper of the skirt. He pulls it up with maddening sensuality, fastening it securely at the top with the clasp all while my whole core continues to clench gently.
What just happened?
“I…” I turn around slowly, completely willing and wanting to drop to my knees right here and suck him off but he holds up a palm, his green eyes darker than I’ve ever seen before.
“I’ll let you finish cleaning the place.”
Oh.I swallow thickly.
“Right, well… I’ll just finish up in here then get out of your hair,” I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. Am I that bad? Does he regret what we just did?
His gaze shifts to meet mine again, and the intensity in his expression makes my stomach flip. I can’t tell if he’s mad, annoyed or something else. I turn quickly, heading back toward my cleaning supplies cart, but I can feel him following close behind.
Every step I take seems charged, every movement hyper-aware of whatever just happened between us, and how effortlessly his presence seems to invade my physical and mental space.
We’ve seen each other naked before, I have no idea why this time feels... different. It feels... new. Something changed when he came to Brookhaven to drop off my wallet, and now there’s no going back to the way things were before.
“I came to grab a file from my home office before I have to head back. I’ll be in there for a few minutes if you need me,” he says pointing down the hallway.
I nod. “Okay.”
He heads toward the other end of the penthouse that I already cleaned as I get to work on finishing his bedroom and bathroom. The entire time I question everything that just happened.
Is he mad? Is he happy? Does he want me to come find him? What the hell is he thinking about right now?
Twenty minutes later, I’ve finished and packed up the cleaning cart, prepared to push it to the ground floor so that I can make the long, train ride back to Brookhaven when curiosity gets the best of me.
I make my way cautiously toward his office that’s located at the far end of the penthouse. It’s the only room I’ve never been allowed to clean at his explicit request due toconfidential information for clients housed there.
At the time, I hadn’t known who he was or that he was a lawyer but now that I do, I wonder if that’s where his personal belongings are kept. You know, the things that make him,him.
I tell myself that I’m just interested in knowing more about him. I’m not snooping. But each step down the hallway feels like I’m edging closer to a line I shouldn’t cross and a betrayal of his trust.
The walk stretches longer than I remember, my nerves growing louder with each step. When I reach the door to his office, I hesitate, straining to hear if he’s already left for the night or on a meeting that I might interrupt.
Hearing nothing I take another deep breath, my fingers brush the gold-colored doorknob, twisting it cautiously.It’s unlocked.Just a quick peek, enough to satisfy the gnawing question of what he’s hiding behind here.
Maybe it’s sports memorabilia. Maybe it’s a pet. Maybe he’s into collecting Hot Wheel cars.
The door cracks open silently. It’s just a few inches but it’s enough to see that Cain hasn’t left for the night. And when I see him, I freeze.
Chapter 20 – Rhiannon
Cain is in his office alright.?
Seated in his chair, his desk facing the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the chaos of Manhattan rush hour traffic below. His profile is bathed in the soft, early evening light that’s pouring in making him seem almost god-like.
But that’s not what has me frozen in place, gasping for air.
His head is tilted against the chair, his suit jacket draped over the backrest, his dress shirt unbuttoned and open revealing soft, smooth skin, and those abs I’ve licked a line between. His pants are lying in a careless heap on the floor around his ankles and his glasses are tossed on his desk like he just yanked them off. He looks like my perfectly undone, tortured hero.
My stomach flips as my gaze takes in the scene: the bottle of lube perched on the corner of his desk, his hand moving with slow, focused strokes over his thick, steely length. His legs are spreadwide apart, making room for the massive cock I’ve ridden that he’s currently jerking off.
My mouth goes dry as I watch his hand move, his grip tightening, pulling and teasing the inches of smooth, velvety skin. He runs his palm over the tip, giving extra attention there and I can see the way the muscles flex in his jaw like he’s close to coming already.
The movement is both calculated and desperate, and a deep, guttural groan escapes his lips as his fist twists a few times near the tip, coaxing a bead of precum to the surface.
I’m stuck in place watching, my pulse thundering in my ears as I stand rooted to the spot, caught between both guilt at invading his privacy and fascination with what he was doing behind this door.
