Page 11 of Falling for the Single Daddy

“That’s better,” I say huskily, my voice trembling, my resolve threatening to crumble. I have to keep my hand tightly balled to stop from stroking up and down my length, to stop fromjacking off in my office. The thought should be laughable. But it’s there. I can’t deny it. “Maybe if I record you,” I go on. “I can watch it later. I may think of something that doesn’t occur to me now.”

She stands up straight and arches one eyebrow sassily. Another challenge. She knows why I want to record this. She understands what I’m really asking her.Give me footage of your tits jiggling, your body covered in sweat, your hips thrusting forward as if your curvy body is getting ready for my shaft. “Record me,” she whispers. “Do it, Gray.”

I hit the screen record button to save this particular time frame. “Do another rep,” I say.

“Is that an order?”

“You’re damn right it is.”

“Hmm…”

There’s that noise again. I grit my teeth hard, my temples pulsing, my balls feeling so full I could explode. She kneels, thrusts up, kneels, thrusts up. Each time, she does it faster. It’s like she’s riding me. It’s like I’m in there with her, slipping mycock between her slick thighs, finding her haven, and pushing in hard, deep, owning her.

“Like—that?” she gasps.

“Yes,” I moan. “Keep going.”

She whimpers at the urgency in my voice. But all the while, I’m thinking, we have an excuse. We have a get-out-of-jail-free card. We can say this was innocent.

But then she sinks her hands into her hips and squeezes greedy handfuls of her flesh that are meant for me. I almost crack my phone, I’m holding it so hard. I’m shaking all over. She’s bouncing on the spot, shaking, trembling, moaning.

“Gray?” she moans.

“I’m here.”

“Am I doing it…”

“You’re doing it,” I growl. “Jesus, Callie, you’re doing it, all right.”

“Good.” All breathy, sweat sliding down her chest, between the tempting valley of her cleavage. “It feels… so good.”

“It looks perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she moans. “Are you still recording?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

My hand strays under the table. I stroke my palm along my shaft through my pants. But when I reach for my button, I snap back to reality. It’s like I see myself from a third-person point of view—a man sitting at his desk, dry-humping himself, staring at his nanny.

“I have to get back to work,” I tell Callie. “But your technique really has improved.”

She suddenly stops. She looks hurt and confused. It pisses me off. I don’t want to play with her emotions. Her eyes look from side to side as if she’s replaying the last few minutes, wondering if it’s possible itwasall about the workout.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Really…” I breathe heavily. “Good. Good, uh, job.” What am I even saying? “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Gray.”

I close the feed, standing up, pacing. I grab my phone, go to my videos, and hover my thumb over thedeletebutton. This is what I should do. I know that if I don’t, I’m going to jack myself off to this video at some point. I’m going to tear off my pants and wrap my hand around my throbbing dick, stroke my precome up and down my length, stare at her quivering body, listen to her moans, maybe with headphones on so I can hear better.

Quickly, I delete it. Then, before I can save it, I remove it from the recycling bin. I regret it almost instantly, wishing there was a way to get it back. But I did the right thing. In the end—after initiating steaminess. After letting myself get hard over her. After flirting. After playing games.

Yeah… I should give myself a pat on the back.

Chapter Six

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