Page 16 of Followed By the CEO

He bends one leg and positions that foot in front, effectively spreading for me.

No one’s bottom has the right to look this tempting.

I trace the lubed tip of the toy over the skin of his cheek, then move the string of his thong out of the way. I move the small cylindrical toy down between his cheeks and lazily trace the tip of it over that tight, little dark star. He jerks, growls, and gives more orders.

His voice is nearly feral when he says, “Keep going.”

As I insert the tip, one of his hands reaches into the front of his thong. “You can watch me, Mills.”

I follow his lead and keep my eyes trained on his hand, which fists his cock while I work the toy into him.

He fists himself as I push it in and pull it out. His jaw is tight.

Sensing me staring, he looks back at me over his shoulder, the muscles under his tattoos rippling with the effort of his strokes. Our eyes lock as I switch on the toy. In the next second, his eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck,” he growls. “I’m coming.”

I can’t help myself; I look down and stare at the dark spot on the front of his thong and watch it spread as he fists his dick with long, hard pulls.

Watching Hayden please himself with very little assistance from me is like an addictive new song that I want to play on repeat.

I sit here in shock as Hayden recovers, catching his breath. He rolls to his back and pulls me down for a kiss.

I’m still stunned when he gets up and goes to change behind the screen. When he comes out again, he moves in for another kiss.

“You alright?” Hayden asks, amusement in his voice. “You’d better get changed; Susan will be back soon, and she’s gonna wonder why you’re still mostly naked.”

Why does he sound like the logical one all of a sudden?

“Naked. Right,” I say. Clearly my brain cells haven’t recovered since the mind-melting orgasm.

“Get dressed, and I’ll walk you home,” he says.

Both rational thought and shame show up simultaneously as I shamble back into my clothes.

What did I just do? What am I thinking, having a one-night stand in a makeshift film studio in front of a camera?

Granted, it’s not actually filming us, but still. My best friend is right outside.

Is it a one-night stand if it occurs at 10 a.m. and it’s basically a five-minute makeout session?

No, I decide. It’s not a one-night stand. It barely counts as making out. It was…what was that?

It was two good-looking people, crazily worked up from the suggestion of sex, taking care of business before getting on with their day. That’s all this is. A post-mortem? No, a debriefing, if you will. That’s all.

I peek out from behind the screen, smoothing my hair down. I’m still reeling from what just happened. Will everyone on the street be able to tell what we just did? It’s a silly thought, yet I feel like I’m about to embark on a walk of shame. I catch that negative thought and throw it away. There is no shame in what we just did. Resolutely, I sling my crossbody bag over my shoulder and head to the door.

“Whoa, hold on there, Dimples, I’ll walk you home.”

“No need. I have errands to run,” I say.

We head out onto the sidewalk and I apply my nude lip gloss as I walk down the street.

“Let me get a car for you,” Hayden says.

“That’s nice of you to offer but I’m fine.”

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“I have a gig.”

---