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Without my consent, my traitorous thoughts are turning toCassie.
My breath is trapped in my lungs, my back bending as I work my cock faster while that same pressure builds to the point of bursting and my thoughts flit between old memories and new ones until I can’t seem to differentiate where the faceless woman ends and Cassie begins. And why is it that it is so much harder to breathe now that Cassie’s face is cropping up in my thoughts? Why do I feel so muchclosernow that I’m thinking about her?
And when the hot release spills over to coat my hand as I pulse into my own fist, the memory is gone completely, leaving only Cassie’s face behind as I come against my palm. I’m trying to catch my breath after, my eyes open and fixed on the ceiling but not really seeing it, trying to come down from the high as the guilt of what I’ve done slowly creeps in.
You’d think that I might have learned my lesson the first time.
Hadn’t my last experience with caring about a woman out of my reach taught me anything? How much of a disappointment had it been when I let my loneliness drive me to make terrible judgment calls only to be delivered a rude awakening when I had learned none of it had been real? I close my eyes even as my chest still heaves, cursing under my breath.
Here I am, an entire year later, becoming enamored with another woman that is completely out of my grasp and probably out of my league. What in the world would Cassie want with a workaholic single dad barely even able to keep his shit together on an average day?
It’s ridiculous to even consider, for all sorts of reasons.
I really care about you guys.
I have to remind myself that she couldn’t have meant that the way I’d like to believe. That’s just who Cassie is. I’m sure that she only cares about me as a single father struggling to connect more with his daughter, like a pet project. Nothing more.
I walk to my bathroom in a state of shame to wash my hands,frowning down at the sink as the cold water brings me back to slight clarity. When it’s done, and I’m drying my hands on the towel hanging beside the sink, I catch sight of my still-flushed face in the mirror and shake my head at my own reflection.
“You dumb prick,” I mutter.
I fall back into my bed face-first, still cursing myself for being a delusional asshole but feeling less tense, at the very least. Even now, after slipping further into villainy without meaning to—I’m still thinking about her. Just as much as I have been since the moment she moved in, if I’m being honest. It’s ill-advised, and it’sdefinitelyinappropriate, but there it is.
I sigh, pushing my arms under my pillow and burrowing into it as I try to push Cassie’s face from my mind. I tell myself that tomorrow I will work on burying this asinine crush deep, deep down where it belongs. That when I wake up tomorrow I will have breakfast with Cassie and Sophie and act like I didn’t just abuse myself to the thought of the nanny, because eventhinkingabout it makes me feel like a creep.
Hell. Maybe I am.
I absolutely get no sleep that night, but that’s pretty much what I expected.
I’m about to tell him goodbye, because by all accounts we’re done here; he’s watched me come, he’s paid his money—so why am I hesitating?
I can still hear him breathing on the other end of the Skype call, and it isn’t the first time I’ve found myself curious about what he looks like. His voice does unspeakable things to me, that much is clear, and surely someone with a voice like that must have a face to match?
I’m going to end the session. It’s ridiculous that I’m hesitating.
I clear my throat, about to tell him thanks for buying another private show, but he surprises me by speaking first.
“I’m curious... how much would it be to keep talking to you?”
I know that my heart shouldn’t skip a beat.
CHAPTER 9
Cassie
I wish I could see what he looked like.
His voice is low, like a constant murmur, always offering quiet instructions as I jump to fulfill his every whim. Something about the way he asks for what he wants from me with complete confidence, without the slightest bit of embarrassment or uncertainty—it makes my skin tingle all over, almost like he’s actually touching me.
“Spread your legs, Cici,” he urges through the microphone. “Let me see you.”
I don’t hesitate, parting my thighs wider in front of the camera so he can see exactly how wet I am. Exactly how turned on he’s made me.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Touch your clit.”
I circle my fingers around the little bundle of nerves, feeling sparks in my belly with every swipe. “Like this?”
“Just like that,” he groans. “You’re so pretty. So fucking wet.”
