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I take a couple of minutes to pull myself together.

I can’t go outside like this—with a hard-on threatening to poke a hole in my pants.

I need to calm down before I do anything.

I take a deep breath.

And that’s when I hear it.

Constance moaning.

It’s not possible.

Is she …?

I stop breathing altogether and bring my ear against the door.

I’m greeted with silence.

I must have imagined it.

But then, there’s another moan, and this time, I can’t mistake why she’s moaning, because a wet sound accompanies it.

I keep my ear trained against the door, and my breathing grows shallow. I’m still silent, though.

I refuse to miss a single second of what is obviously happening behind that door.

There’s not a chance in the world my hard-on will deflate now.

All I want is to bring my hand inside my pants and rub myself to the sound of her pleasuring herself.

But I’m in the corridor, and anyone could come at any moment.

And so I don’t move as I listen to her.

Her moans grow louder, and I can hear her wet fingers over her skin. The sound of it is indecent, and I’m glad this is the only thing I can hear around us.

Her moans are mine, and only mine.

No one is allowed to hear them.

But then again, no one is around.

I’d hear it if someone was coming.

For a few seconds, that thought lingers on my mind, and then …

Fuck it.

I slip my mind into my pants and squeeze tight around my cock. Oh, fuck. It feels so good, and knowing she’s the last thing I touched with that same hand makes it even hotter.

I squeeze harder and twist my hand as I move it up and down on my cock.

Her moans are now so loud that it feels like I’m with her in the same room.

My knot starts to swell, and I have to turn to face the door, lean against it with my forehead, and flatten my hand on it so I don’t fall from the sheer need coursing my body.

My hips move of their own accord as I keep a tight hold around my cock, rubbing roughly, as I imagine being inside of her.