“Mmm,” I hum, wondering if he’s even aware of the exclusive sex club. As far as I know, it’s invite only, not to mention expensive to join—but Dylan’s grandparent’s left him a tidy inheritance, and after he turned twenty-one, he didn’t need to come to me or his mother for money. “Anywhere in particular?”
“Maybe hit up some campus parties if there’s anything good.”
“Nice.”
He glances down at his phone when it buzzes. “Theo’s here,” he says as he climbs to his feet. “See you in the morning.”
“Tell my players not to drink too much or they’ll be benched for the first half on Sunday.”
His response is a wave of his hand as he exits my office. A few moments later, the front door slams shut, and I’m left alone in this big empty house.
I give it at least ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t return, before flipping my phone over and sliding my top drawer open. Pulling out the card, I run my fingers over the gold embossing.
Not going to lie, I’ve jerked off a few times this week tothe memory of what she did in that room last week. She looked so at ease fucking herself with a dildo despite knowing people were watching, and I still can’t shake the feeling she knew I was standing there watching her.
I liked watching her.
I got hard watching her.
I had some of my most intense releases this week from the memory of watching her.
While part of me recognises how creepy that is, the other part knows she likes being watched—she gets off on it.
My fingers hover over the message icon on the app. What do I even say?Hey, I enjoyed watching you last week. I’d like to watch you again?
I glance at my hard cock, surprised by how excited he is at the mere thought of watching. Is that my kink? Am I a voyeur? I admit, I looked up the different kinks after visiting the club last week. Andy’s comment about everyone having a kink has been running through my head since he spoke the words.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy sex as much as the next hot-blooded guy, but something about watching her bring herself to climax has me straining uncomfortably against my pants.
For a moment, I consider exiting the app and doing what my son accused me of earlier but for some reason, watching porn doesn’t appeal to me as much. It’s too fake, too scripted. The way she touched herself, her breasts heaving as her back arched into it, was mesmerising. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
I need more.
More of her.
Before I can overthink it, I bring up a new message, typing in her username.
@watch_me_watch_you: Hey.
My stomach twists as I stare down at the screen. The message next to my profile picture of me in my mask is pathetic, and I wish I could remove it and come up with something better. Not that I need to worry. It’s Friday night. I’m sure she’s out with her friends… or at the club. It makes me insanely jealous to think of the men who could be watching her right now.
I toss my phone onto the table in disgust, just as it vibrates, then stare at the place where it landed face down. Surely, it’s not her. It’s probably Dylan.
It vibrates again, and I snatch it up.
@daring_devil: Well, hello there.
@daring_devil: I was wondering when I’d hear from you.
Fuck. What do I say to that?
I’m so bad at this.
I run my hand over my jaw, staring at her message and trying to decipher it. She saidwhennotif, so she was hoping I’d contact her.
@watch_me_watch_you: I had to work up the nerve.
@daring_devil: It’s okay. I’ll guide you through this.
