him masturbate, I’d made myself come. Immediately. I wasn’t sure I’d ever come that fast in my life. The overwhelming visual display of what I’d just seen had me torqued up so high I was shaking by the time I collapsed on the bed, and pretty much as soon as my fingers got working down there, it was all over.
Afterwards, I realized the blinds on the bedroom were partway open. But it was dark. I didn’t turn on any lights when I stumbled in. And Cary definitely wasn’t out there in the dark, watching me. I checked.
The only voyeur around here was me.
I sighed and pushed myself up out of bed. I’d had a shitty sleep, because I kept waking up aroused. Dreaming about it again and again.
As I forced myself to shower and eat some cereal, I kept seeing it.
Oh, God. That visual.
I would never be able to unsee it and I didn’t particularly want to.
However, I felt guilty for watching something that was meant to be private.
At least, it probably was. He didn’t shut the curtains over the French doors. But he also didn’t turn on any lights in the living room. It was the middle of the night, he looked outside first and saw the complete darkness of the yard and the poolhouse, and obviously he thought he was alone.
And it didn’t exactly seem like he’d planned to do it. More like he was on his way to bed for the night, but got distracted by my lipstick and then my hoodie… and couldn’t not do it.
Because he wanted me?
Either that, or he just reaaally liked the smell of my hoodie.
Shit. How was I gonna look him in the eye?
It wasn’t what I’d seen that was the problem. It was the fact that I’d spied on him to see it.
Should I tell him?
How?
Hey, you know last night, in the middle of the night, when you looked out the window and thought you were alone because the whole world was dark and asleep? Well, I was right outside in the dark, and I watched you smell my hoodie and touch yourself, and I watched you come, and it was the most exciting moment of my life thus far. I hope you don’t mind.
Yeah… I’ll just pack my things and go.
Yeesh.
Would he be embarrassed? Upset? Would he fire me?
He had every right to.
If I was a guy, standing outside my female boss’s house in the middle of the night, and I watched her masturbate like a Peeping Tom from the bushes, pretty sure that would be grounds for dismissal and very possibly a sexual harassment lawsuit.
Hardly made it okay just because he was a man and I was a woman.
I was his employee. I was on his property. And he did not know I was there.
Unless… he ended up liking the idea that I was there?
Fuck me, but I was so aroused at the thought. I had to get myself together. I was just hoping he wasn’t in the studio already when I walked in. I wasn’t quite ready to face him yet.
I made my way into the house—where my Metallica hoodie was mysteriously gone from the living room—and into the control room. And there he was, sitting at his desk.
My Metallica hoodie was draped on my chair. I stopped short, my gaze fixated on it.
I must’ve come perilously close to dropping my shit all over the place, because Cary jumped to his feet and took my laptop bag from me. I looked up at him with wide eyes.
“My hoodie,” I croaked.
He glanced at it, then his eyes met mine again. That warm, soft honey staring back at me was gonna do me in.
I saw what you did.
“You left it here last night.”
I swallowed. I hadn’t left it here, exactly. But I had left it in the house.
And the last time I saw it, it was draped over his glorious, naked chest, while he…
I went to sit down and as I got my laptop set up, carefully not looking at him, I couldn’t stop wondering if my hoodie smelled like him now.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked me, sitting back down. I could feel him eying me and I couldn’t even look at him.
“Not really. I’m kind of a night owl sometimes. Have a hard time sleeping when I can’t stop thinking.”
“Me, too.”
The doorbell rang; the studio door was open and I heard it in the house, and I almost gasped with relief. “I’ll get it.” I jumped out