Page 4 of October

But my body is on fire. My heart is in my throat. My thighs are clenching together.

“Ohhh, fuck,” I hear him groan under his breath and that seals the deal for me. I, Wren Price, am giving in to my voyeuristic desires and spying on my boss while he jerks off. It’s fine. This is fine.

I lick my lips, take a breath, then step forward, ever so slightly, so I can just barely peek around the corner to take in the sight of him again.

The tent forming in the sheet has grown even bigger since my quick glance a few minutes ago, and his hand is moving more rapidly. His eyes are closed and he’s reclined casually on his mountain of lush pillows.

It’s as if I’m watching my own, personal dirty video. I can feel heat spreading from my toes all the way up into my cheeks. It’s like that nervous feeling you get when you’re doing something naughty. It’s an adrenaline rush. I swallow the knot forming in my throat as I watch him. My breathing is timed with his strokes, without me even trying.

It doesn’t take long for my clit to start throbbing, begging for some kind of attention that I just can’t give it right now. My feet are cemented to the floor. My hormones, my pure animalistic desire is keeping me still. I am enraptured.

I watch him shift and the movements underneath the sheet pick up. He’s stroking faster. Like I’ve developed superhuman hearing, I can hear every grunt… every groan… every stuttered breath… and the wet sound of lube on skin as he jerks.

This is filthy… but in the best way possible.

I wrap my hand around the doorframe and lean in closer, pressing my now heated cheek against the cold wall, still only watching with one eye.

“Fuck,” I hear him whisper again and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning out of pure instinct. “Goddamn, Wren…”

I freeze at the sound of my name for a brief moment then pull back into the hallway and stand perfectly still against the wall.

Had he seen me? Did he know I’ve been spying on him like a fucking lunatic? I close my eyes and listen, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wait for him to come running out and fire me right here on the spot. But that’s not what happens at all.

He groans again, clearly still lost in the moment of pleasure, and he says my name again.

Wren. Fuck me.

Is he… thinking about me? While doing that?

My lips part as I start to pant again, making the decision to peek in once more. Just as I do, he strokes once more… twice more… and tenses… growling out a release underneath his sheet.

Oh my fucking God. Oh my God.

I watch in a trance as he lies in there in a post-orgasmic haze and he looks so beautiful. The sun is just barely starting to shine through his window, casting an orangey glow over him. My entire body is singing. I’m so distracted by my own need for release and the sight before me, it takes the jingle of the bellsplaced on Casey’s bedroom doorknob to pull me out of my horny hypnotic state and back into reality.

I scramble back down the hall and to the kitchen, rushing to make myself look busy and unaware of what was just happening down the hall. He, without question, heard those bells too. That’s why they are there, after all. It’s always good to know when she’s out and about from her bedroom in the morning, or the middle of the night.

I pull a pan from the cabinet and place it on the burner to heat up while I start mixing up the pancake batter, just as Casey bounds around the corner and into the kitchen.

“Wren! You’re here! You’re here!”

“I’m here!” I exclaim, matching her energy, which makes her laugh.

“Are you making pancakes? Tell me you’re making pancakes!”

“Duh. I’m even adding some chocolate chips to yours,” I lean down to whisper, “But don’t tell your dad. He’s getting blueberries instead. The chocolate is special for you.”

“Don’t tell Dad what?” Ash says in the deep, intensely sexy voice of his when he comes into the kitchen, now dressed in gray sweats—of course—and a white T-shirt. The same voice I heard moaning my name not even five minutes ago. My heart is racing again at the thought.

“Nothhhhiiiinnnnnggggg, Daddy,” Casey says then heads back toward the stairs. “I’m going to watch TV until we eat. Byyyyeeeeee.” And she’s gone.

“I wish I was that chipper first thing in the morning.” I giggle and turn my attention back to the pancakes. I can’t bring myself to look him in the face.

“I don’t think I’ve been that chipper in my entire life,” he replies. “When did you get in this morning?”

“I haven’t been here long. Less than fifteen minutes, really. I got to work on breakfast first thing.”

“Thank you. Casey loves these damn things and to be honest, they are the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

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