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“Take a guess.”
“Someone bent over the counter.”
“What else?”
“Fucking someone.” She hesitated. “Charity, maybe?”
“You have to look a little closer than Charity.”
She stilled and gripped the doorknob, but it stayed locked. She stared at me, comprehension dawning, and still, she didn’t leave.
“Because of the flirting?”
“Partially.”
“Then…”
“Stop asking questions, Sophie, unless you want to know the answers.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. I braced for her interrogation, but something else came out instead.
“You got turned on earlier and thought of fucking me.”
Not a question. It was a statement this time.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Where? How?”
“Bent over this counter. In the storage room, the closest to the bar counter where we were flirting.” I paused, squeezing particularly hard and biting back a groan at the precum that leaked from the tip. “In the kitchen where I first met you. Bent over, too, or just laying you on that island counter and feasting on your body.”
The last one had her gasping. It also tortured me until it was all I could think about, particularly my head between her legs while she pulled aggressively at my hair. My balls grew tight. So did my stomach, and I knew what was coming next.
“Oh—”
“Look at it, Sophie,” I cut in, the command snapping in my tone like someone had taken over me. My fist moved faster, its rhythm turning sloppy and aggressive. “I’m close. What are you thinking about?”
“Sebastian…”
“Look at it and be honest with me—”
“I’m thinking about touching it. I want to know how hard it feels.”
That was the last straw, sending me from that peak and straight into an orgasm that was blinding and all-consuming. I saw stars and felt heaven, a wild combination that had me pumping my cock repeatedly. When I came to, I stared at the cum I spilled all over the counter, with some droplets clinging to my stomach. It was such a mess.
But the even bigger mess was having her stay there to witness it all, effectively shifting our friendship.
CHAPTER 8
SOPHIE
I was still in a daze by the time I left the restaurant, clocking out without even remembering that I’d clocked out. No one could blame me, not when all I could think about was the scene I’d walked in on earlier, more visceral and rawer than anything I had seen in my life. Watching Sebastian get attuned to his primal instincts and jerk himself off was the hottest sight ever, and only an insanely strong person would ever forget that.
I wasn’t that strong. I wasn’t a hypocrite, either, not when I knew I was attracted to him and our flirting earlier had gotten me all hot and bothered, too. Finding out that it did the same to him was a stroke to the ego, and it left me walking on cloud nine as I kept replaying it in my head.
“But he didn’t let you stay,” I reminded myself. “He cleaned up, ushered you out of there, and pretended like things were normal throughout the night.”
His cock had still been semi-hard when he’d tucked himself in, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to get him fully hard again. I could still envision his shape in my mind, the smoothness of it, and the veins that protruded when he’d been close to climax. But watching him reach his climax took the cake, and I couldn’t take my mind off Sebastian's heaving and groaning as he pumped himself dry. If he’d just turned and reached out to me, I would have understood and wouldn’t have put up a fight.
