Page 29 of The Single Dad

As I do, I hear a low sound that almost sounds like… my name. I freeze, startled.

Mr. Sullivan is in the bedroom, on the opposite side of the bed. The lights are low, but I can still make him out—his shirt still on, but his pants unbuckled, his cock in his hand. He strokes himself a few more times before noticing I’m there.

Our gazes lock, and all of the oxygen seems to leave the room.

We stand there, staring at each other, locked in place. I can’t help the way my eyes flit down to his huge cock. At the sight of it, every possible excuse dies in my mind. I’m speechless.

Then, in a husky voice, Mr. Sullivan breaks the silence. “Close the door.”

He doesn’t specify which side of the door I should be on, so I assume, through a haze, that it’s up to me.

I turn to close the door, obeying him automatically. But I stay inside the room. I closed the door, and closed us both in here together.

He doesn’t say a word, and neither do I, but I can feel something building between us, an almost palpable tension. His eyes are hungry as he stares at me.

Slowly, he strokes himself once more.

I swallow, watching him, heat rising in my cheeks.

He strokes his cock again. And again. He starts to get back into it, the muscles in his forearms tensing, his jaw tightening. His eyes never leave me.

It feels like an eternity as he gets himself closer and closer. The room feels so hot that I could combust. There’s a desperate need in my core.

My clit throbs. I can feel the slight wetness in my panties. I wonder if he knows what the sight of him like this is doing to me.

He definitely seems to know. There’s an aura of control around him that’s entrancing to me. He groans as he comes, spilling over his hand.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.

In the aftermath, though, I can see the post-orgasm clarity begin to settle on him. I realize, abruptly, what I’m doing.

I just walked in on my boss jerking off. I swear I heard him say my name. And then I stayed to watch.

Oh my god.

In a panic, I lurch into motion. I flee the room, throwing the door closed behind myself, and race back to Archie’s bedroom.

“Did you find him?” asks Archie.

I shake my head, trying to compose myself. “Sorry, kiddo,” I say. “He’s a really good hider. I don’t think he knows the game is over yet. Silly Trevor.”

“Silly Trevor!” Archie echoes, then adds, “But what if he’s lost?”

“Don’t worry, buddy, he’s definitely not lost.” I blink rapidly, my mind racing. “Um, he’ll probably come out tomorrow. In the meantime, maybe we could find someone else to keep you company.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. How about this fella right here?” I reach for a stuffed turtle sitting on top of Archie’s desk. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Sheldon,” Archie informs me.

“Perfect,” I say, hoping he’ll go for it as I hold up the turtle. “Sheldon can snuggle up with you guys for tonight, and Trevor will be back tomorrow. Good night, Archie.”

Archie reaches for Sheldon, burrowing down into his blankets.

“Good night,” he says, finally sounding tired. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered and out-of-sorts I am right now, which is good.

I turn off the lights and retreat behind the door, heading straight back to my own private room. I need to be alone for a bit. I need a cold fucking shower. But most of all, I need to forget what I just saw… even though I already know that will be impossible.

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