Instead of checking the usual selection, I tapped others that I knew I’d regret. But standing there, watching her, I didn’t give a shit.
Less than ten minutes later, my arm band went off. My heart pounded as I walked down the hall. A roaring sounded in my head, only being interrupted by the loud flip of the switch letting her know the room was occupied. I took deep breaths as I sat—the leather creaking in the quiet room. The oils and lubes on the table begged me to use them, but I held strong and remained seated.
I closed my eyes and fought to ignore my erection, already rock hard with thoughts about what was to come. I’d never requested something so direct and, before it even started, I already regretted it.3It would be a punishment to watch her so exposed and open to me.
Then she came in like there wasn’t someone watching her and carried a water bottle to the nightstand. With her back to me, she tugged one sleeve down her shoulder and then the other. My hands clenched around my thighs as I watched her thumbs hook into the fabric and push it down. All the way down, keeping her legs straight, exposing everything she had to me before standing up and stepping out of the outfit.
I watched her reach in the bedside drawer and extract a thick, flesh colored dildo. A moan rushed out of my chest when she finally turned, and I saw her perfect tits. I took in her slim stomach and thin landing strip over the most perfect pussy. It’d been so long since I’d seen her naked and stared like a man in a desert finding an oasis.
But she’d only just begun.
Oaklyn crawled on the bed, prowling across the sheets until she found a spot in the middle. She rolled to her back and bent her knees, spreading her legs wide. Her fingers toyed with her nipples, making them ruby red before trailing down and cresting her mound, finally delving between her lips.
She spread her wetness all around her opening, rocking her hips against her probing fingers until her other hand grabbed the dildo and eased it between her thighs. Slow pushes, a little at a time, getting deeper on each pass. The deeper it went, the heavier her she breathed.
When she resumed plucking at her nipples, I groaned again, pressing my palm against my aching length. Fuck, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t breathe from my desire. I needed more. I needed relief. Just some space I thought. Just something to help ease the pressure threatening to explode inside me.
The sound of my zipper reverberated in the quiet room, making music with her increasing moans. I panted with her as I watched the dildo slowly slip in and out of her wet cunt. I gripped my shaft and moved with the rhythm of her hips as she fucked the toy. I watched it appear shiny from her juices and disappear deep inside her. I stroked harder, feeling the pressure build in my balls as I imagined it was me pressing deep.
My heavy breaths were so loud as I fisted my cock faster, almost at a punishing pace, racing toward an orgasm I knew was wrong, and I didn’t deserve. But I couldn’t fucking stop.
Her hips pressed up, lifting her ass off the bed as she let out whimpering moans, her fingers quickly moving over her clit as she came. And I came with her. Long white ropes of cum shot out into my waiting palm.
We breathed in unison and as much as I hated myself for what I’d just done, I couldn’t reject the euphoria of feeling so close to her. Of feeling like I’d gone farther with a woman than I had in a long time. Most of the time, I watched and came much earlier than the performers, cleaning up and staying until the show was over. It had never felt so personal or so connected before.
I wanted to hate myself, hate the situation I’d put us both in, and I did. But at the same time, I didn’t.
Finally getting my breathing under control, I grabbed tissues from the nearby box and cleaned up. With my penis still out, but soft, I stood and washed my hands before turning off the light, letting her know the room was vacant.
When she noticed the light, she sagged against the bed and in those moments when I watched her—when she thought she was alone, I didn’t see the sexual woman who worked at Voyeur. I saw a tired college student. For the first time I noticed the dark circles under her eyes that not even makeup could cover.
It hit me like a punch to the gut. How tired she must be working three jobs and going to college. I watched her lay there, staring at the ceiling, sinking into the blankets before closing her eyes for a long blink. What was she thinking? Did she hate it? Did she hate the idea of someone in here gaining satisfaction as she shared parts of herself—gave parts of herself to others?
The questions churned in my stomach, and I quickly tucked my cock back in my pants, pulled my hat low and got the fuck out of there.4
chapterfifteen
Oaklyn
“Are you heading out, Oaklyn?”Mr. Erikson asked.
“Not quite yet. I’m going to swing by Dr. Pierce’s office and see if he needs anything before I go.”
“Okay. Thanks for all your help today.”
“No problem. I’m just lucky I’m not the one doing the lab this week. Looks brutal.”
We’d spent the afternoon setting up the physics lab for an advanced class this week. Just in case I wasn’t sure before that I was in the right program, writing up all the equations with weird symbols and prepping the materials, I was sure now. Physics was bananas.
“I’m sure you’d knock it out of the park,” Mr. Erikson said with a chuckle.
“I appreciate your confidence.”
“Any time. Have a good night, Oaklyn.”
I walked down the hall toward the main office and found Donna’s seat empty. Then I looked at the clock and saw it was already after six. I hadn’t realized it was so late. Hopefully Dr. Pierce hadn’t left either, otherwise I’d stayed for nothing. I headed toward his office and saw the light shining out from the half-open door.
I peeked in and found his dark head bent over his desk. He was writing on a paper with red pen, and I could only assume he was grading. Beside the paper he was working on, there was a perfectly placed stack of papers and another red pen sitting lined up with a blue one. I’d never known someone to be so anal about lining objects up. Sometimes I’d find him straightening Donna’s desk or moving an office supply less than a quarter of an inch to perfect it.
