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The bed was so big, so soft, that sleep should have come easy. But instead, I tossed and turned, unable to settle down. I wasn’t upset about Jonah or his secret life. But I guess the events of the night had been shocking just the same, unsettling and just plain strange. Really? A dominatrix? A whip? Oozing welts? Holy cow. So I sat up suddenly in bed, resolving to make myself a glass of hot milk, maybe eat a couple cookies. Yeah, a midnight snack would help calm me down, I’d be able to relax a little better, ease the tension in my muscles. And if there were Oreos in the kitchen, it’d be wonderful, reminiscent of my childhood when nightmares were soothed with the creamy goodness of white and blacks.
So I tiptoed into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Where was Mr. Martin? It was about midnight on the night before Thanksgiving for crying out loud. Had he gone out? For what? Who goes out now?
But then I scolded myself. Of course he had gone out. Rob Martin was a handsome, charismatic alpha male, and there were always people who wanted to be around him. More accurately, there would always be women who’d want a piece of him, to touch that masculine body, feel his strong, confident hands on them. So I scolded myself again, turning the corner to the kitchen in my padded slippers.
But then I saw it. There was a big door with a slip of light underneath and suddenly I knew it had to be Mr. Martin. He was here in the house, alone in his study, and like a magnet drawn to a pole, I crept closer to the rectangle of light on the floor, my body heating, face flushing. It was so wrong, I know. I’d just caught his son doing the dirty with another woman, I should have been angry and incensed. But instead, I was already over it, lusting over his dad instead. What was wrong with me? My emotions were jumbled, mixed, different currents and cross-currents moving this way and that, leaving me a mess of jangled nerves.
But still, my feet crept closer to the office door and before I knew it, I was peeking in. Stop, I commanded myself silently. Get a hold of yourself, back off. At this rate, I was a real peeping Tom, the second time tonight in fact, and I was completely prepared to see something crazy, given the events of the night. But instead, it was just Mr. Martin at his desk, reading silently. What, I wasn’t sure, but that handsome profile was focused, his face turned slightly away as the blue eyes looked over a piece of paper. And oh god, but the alpha male was dressed only in loose pajama pants, bronze chest bare and muscled, like an Adonis at rest, strong arms thick, dark hair raffishly mussed.
And I shouldn’t have, but I did. My body was helpless around this man, and I started creaming inside, my pussy loosening, going soft and wet. Because Rob Martin was the opposite of his son, dominant even in repose, gorgeous, commanding, and best of all, normal. On the night before Thanksgiving, he was reading in his home office and not doing some weird shit involving skinny chicks with whips and chains. I’d never been so grateful to see normal, to see a man acting like a man and not screaming and crying in pain, begging a woman to humiliate him.
So my insides ran even wetter, craving him, immediately alert, desperate for his touch. But I’d had enough excitement for the night, and I wasn’t going to go barging into his office, charging in there like some crazy, off-her-rocker cat lady. Instead, I was going to keep it to myself, so slowly, oh so slowly, I backed away so I was about five feet away from the door, on the other side of the hallway. I could still see the big man, still see him clearly through the crack, but only as a wraith in the shadows. And more importantly, he couldn’t see me.
So slowly, oh so slowly, I edged my shorts over my hips, dropping them to the carpeted floor and kicking them away. Oh god, my cunt was creaming hard now just taking in that bronzed body, the strong line of Rob’s jaw, the intensity of his blue gaze as he perused the paper in front of him. And with another flick of my wrist, I edged my panties down as well, bringing them over my thick thighs until they were about knee-level. Oh my god, but I was wet and a creamy line of goo stuck trailed out from my pussy, sticking to the cotton before snapping wetly and forming a blob on the material. Oh god, the scent of my pussy was strong, enveloping me in the hall, musky and tantalizing, and I forced myself to stay still for a moment, swallowing my moan.
