I got home late.
I was in the worst fuckin’ mood ever, and my shoulders were so fuckin’ tense that I’d shed my jacket and tie before even getting on my bike.
Shit had gone down with a member of the club, too, and I’d had to leave work midday to go bail Hush out of jail.
He hadn’t wanted to talk and I’d had too many things to do so I’d bailed him out and left him to find his own way home from the station.
My day had only gotten worse as I got some news I hadn’t wanted, and by the time I arrived home, I’d completely forgotten all about the gift I’d made for Baker.
I quickly remembered when I got home and walked into my darkened bedroom—I’d gotten really fuckin’ good at navigating my house without lights.
She was on the bed, legs spread wide, and she had the flesh-colored mold of my cock between her thighs as she tried to work it in.
I groaned and stripped completely.
Standing at the window, cock in hand, I gave her instructions even though she couldn’t hear me.
“Spread your legs wider, baby girl,” I growled.
As if she could hear me, she did, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in frustration.
“Good girl,” I said. “Now, bring it to your mouth and get it nice and wet.”
She didn’t bring it to her mouth, but she did work it up and down the length of her sex, coating my mold with her juices.
“That works, too, baby,” I approved. “Once it’s nice and wet, I want you to relax, and then try to work the tip in.”
Again, as if she could hear me, I saw her muscles literally go slack, both knees falling to the bed out wide.
Oh, so slowly, she worked the tip in.
“More,” I growled. “Just a little more.”
She gave me more.
And more.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I growled again. “Take it all into that tight cunt of yours.”
Absently I worked my hand down my length as she fucked herself with my cock mold.
Only when her back arched and she cried out did I allow myself to release.
The window got sprayed with the evidence of my voyeurism, and I panted as we both came down from our releases.
Fuck, I was going to hell.
I had to stop.
But let’s be honest here.
I wasn’t going to.
Being a bad guy worked for me sometimes.
I wasn’t in a good mood, having spent the day writing a list of all the people that I would be laying off this week.
The list grew every single day, and by the time I’d gotten to the end of the list, I had over a hundred and twenty people that were getting the can.