Page 36 of The Enforcer

The possibility that she’s touching herself and thinking about me in any way makes the erection I’ve been fighting since Zoe rushed into the restaurant come fully to life.

Finally.

I lean to the side and quietly place my phone on the table. I hold my breath as I unzip my trousers, shoving my hand inside. I bite back a groan as I clutch my cock in my palm. What I wouldn’t give to drop my trousers to my feet and shove my underwear down my legs. The damage I could do if I could freely enjoy the rough, bruised skin of my own hand gliding along my length while I listen to Zoe’s moans become much less polite and just a little bit louder.

“Oh God,” she moans and then sighs contentedly.

I don’t come, but the precome is flooding the tip of my dick in a stream.

But I’m close. With a few more strokes and her moans, I could empty my balls on the floor. Or, better yet, I could fall to the ground and crawl to her room and kneel by Zoe’s bed. I could let her listen to me while I pleasure myself and wait for her to tell me when to come. I could give her control and let her decide when I got to feel the full power of this release.

I could. I want to. But I don’t.

I’ve never been more disappointed to find that I’m a better man than I ever wanted to be.

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