A soft gasp rolls from my lips as he reaches out, fingers closing around my wrist. Warm. Unhurried. The grip of a man who has decided he’s allowed and isn’t asking. I feel it travel up my arm before I’ve finished registering the contact. Into my chest. Pooling somewhere it has no business to.
I don’t pull back. I should. But I don’t.
My breath shallows into shaky, desperate little gasps I can’t control as he lifts my wrist with excruciating slowness, bringing my fingers that were inside me a minute ago right up to his face.His burning blue eyes never leave mine for even a second, dark, ravenous, and completely shameless, like he wants me to watch exactly what he’s about to do.
Then his lashes lower…and he inhales. Slow. Deep. Devastatingly greedy.
The realization explodes in my chest like a bomb.
He watched.
He saw every second. The way I spread my legs on that stool. The way I fucked myself with two fingers while his voice growled filthy commands in my head. The way I came moaning for him—gushing, shaking, crying out.
Jesus Christ, he watched me come.
A violent wave of humiliation and raw, crippling heat slams through me so hard my knees nearly buckle. I try to jerk my hand free, but he simply tightens his grip like he’s not even trying too hard, eyes now fixed on me. I want to melt straight through the floor. I want to run. But he won’t let me look away.
He inhales again, even slower this time. The quiet, obscene sound he makes as he pulls the scent of my pussy straight into his lungs hits me like lightning. His nostrils flare wide against the buff. His broad chest rises and falls heavily as he breathes me in, savoring every filthy note of my orgasm like it’s the most intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced. A low, guttural groan vibrates from deep in his throat—raw, hungry, barely restrained. The sound goes straight to my clit.
My pussy clenches violently around nothing, forcing a fresh rush of hot slick to leak out of me. My nipples tighten to painful peaks. My knees threaten to buckle. I’m shaking, mortified, andso turned on I can barely stand while the man who watched me come now slowly, deliberately inhales the evidence of how hard I fell apart for him. What it does to me is catastrophic.
He holds my fingers there one devastating second longer, eyes on mine the entire time, dark and liquid and completely without shame, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more exposed.
When he finally lowers my hand, my pulse slams through my bones. For one insane second, I think he’s going to walk me backward into the bedroom, spread me open on the bed, the bookshelves, anywhere, and the worst part is…I know I would let him.
“Reth—” The sound barely makes it out, cracked and ruined.
He releases my wrist. And then he walks away, leaving the hallway empty, the air rushing back in like it’s trying to pretend he was never there.
I stay frozen in the doorway, whole body humming like a livewire with nowhere to discharge. Heart still jackhammering, I lean against the doorframe, trying to steady my breath. But my body gives one last helpless flutter deep inside, another warm rush between my thighs as the memory of Reth breathing in the scent of what I’d done burns behind my eyes like a brand I’ll never be able to scrub off.
The tequila can wait. My legs aren’t taking me anywhere tonight.
And honestly… neither is the rest of me.
15
RETH
The monitor glows in the dark like a temptation I should have deleted the second I saw it.
I’ve been sitting here for an hour, maybe more, watching the same loop on repeat. The feed I swore I wouldn’t touch—the one inside her room. The one that caught her the moment she shut the door after what played out in the seasons room.
Her thighs spread wide on that stool like her body was still chasing what I started against that fucking wall. Fingers buried deep in her pussy, pumping hard, hips rocking desperately while she bit back sounds that made my cock throb so violently I had to grip the desk. The way her back arched when she came, and I imagined the slick gushing out of her. The broken, muffled cries. The way her head fell back like she was lost in something she couldn’t control.
She came hard… and I can’t stop replaying it.
Right after she came, I lost control. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking going over there to her room. While I stood outside her door, some semblance of sanity slowly trickled backin… until she opened that door and I saw that post-orgasm flush on her cheeks—flushed, glowing, guilty. And then I smelled her fingers.
Christ.
The second I breathed in the warm, musky scent of her cum, something inside me snapped. My cock jerked so hard it hurt. My mouth watered. I wanted to drop to my knees right there in the hallway and lick every trace of it from her cunt.
But the shame slammed into me like it always does—that old, sick twist deep in my gut that turns every ounce of want into something filthy and wrong. Pleasure has always felt like poison. Like the second my body reacts, I become the thing I hate most. But it didn’t stop me this time. It only made me inhale deeper, slower, dragging the filthy proof of her orgasm into my lungs like I was trying to drown in the very thing that disgusts me. I wanted to fucking suffocate on the scent of her cum.
Goddammit!
My cock is aching like a motherfucker, thick and heavy against my zipper, leaking steadily into my boxers. I wanted to be in that room. Wanted to replace her fingers with mine—with my cock—and fuck her through every pulse until she couldn’t remember her own name. I still want it. So badly my hands won’t stop shaking.
