Page 64 of Stay Wild Darlin’

And then I looked again.

It got harder to pretend I hadn’t. She wasn’t the nanny anymore. She wasn’t my friend.

There was a boundary I couldn’t cross. A line I drew the moment I hired her, the moment she stepped into our lives. Even if every part of me ached to reach for her—just once—I couldn’t blur that line.

I shouldn’t.

Fuck, I thought, dragging a hand over my jaw. I needed to get out of my head. I needed to take this tension somewhere so it couldn’t get me into trouble.

Before it cracked me wide open.

I shut my bedroom door behind me and ripped down my jeans. I couldn’t get them off fast enough. I didn’t need to scroll or fantasize.

All I needed was her.

The sound she made when she bit into that damn hamburger—soft, low, like it slipped out of her without her even knowing. Her lips, shiny with grease, wrapping around the bun.

Fuck.

I wrapped my hand around my cock, already so fucking hard it hurt.

I pictured her mouth. The curve of her bottom lip. The way she wiped it with her thumb and laughed.

I squeezed tighter. Imagined her on her knees, looking up at me with that same laugh in her eyes—innocent and devastating. Her mouth open. Waiting.

I jerked harder.

Thought about her ass in those jeans. Thought about bending her over the counter right after she licked ketchup off her finger.

Thought about what her moans would sound like if she wasn’t biting into a burger but taking me down her throat.

Jesus Christ.

I was right there—right fucking there.

Stroking hard, desperate, thinking about her mouth, her voice, her fucking moans. The pressure tightened, balls drawn up. I knew I had seconds before I⁠—

The door creaked.

Popped open like it had been resting against the latch, not fully shut.

There she was.

Standing in the doorway.

Eyes wide. Lips parted like she’d called my name—but the only sound in the room was the raw, guttural noise that ripped from my throat as I came—hard.

“Poppy.”

Hot ropes of cum spilled across my hand, splattering up my stomach. Another spurt. Then another. My hips jerked once more, helpless, twitching through the release as we stared at each other.

Me: pants around my thighs, cock still twitching in my grip.

Her: mouth open. Eyes locked on mine.

What the fuck did I do?

“Fuck,” I shouted, voice cracking as I scrambled to pull my jeans up, still fucking covered with cum on my hands, on my stomach, on the goddamn floor.