Almost Caught

CHAPTER SEVEN 

LUCENA'S POV 

The tension in the room felt almost too much to handle. I had tried my best to stop her. I shifted my hips a little and gently squeezed her wrist under the table because I was scared her dad might catch us. One wrong look or a moment of silence could ruin everything. But Chloe just gave me a small, calm look that said it was okay to relax. Her hand never stopped. She kept stroking my dick with steady, skilled movements, like she knew exactly how to make me feel good without making any noise.

The feeling was incredible. Her warm hand moved up and down in a smooth rhythm. 

Every stroke sent a strong wave of pleasure through my body. I clenched my jaw and tried hard to stay focused on the conversation with her parents. I nodded at the right times and forced out polite answers about work and the weather. But the more she touched me, the harder it got. My words started to stumble. I couldn’t finish my sentences properly. My face felt hot and my breathing became shallow.

“Chloe, get the maid to bring you a new spoon since you can’t find the old one,” her mother said in a normal, calm voice, as if nothing unusual was happening under the table.

Right then my cock was rock hard and throbbing in Chloe’s hand. I didn’t want her to stop. I needed those fingers to keep moving. The danger only made the feeling stronger.

“Chloe, are you there?” her mother asked again, sounding a little impatient.

Chloe didn’t answer. She was completely focused on what she was doing. Her eyes were half-closed and her lips were slightly open. She kept stroking me with careful, expert movements. Then her mother leaned forward to look under the table, and pure panic hit me. I knew we were about to get caught.

I stood up so fast that the chair scraped loudly on the floor. In that sudden movement a glass tipped over and a cold drink spilled across the front of my trousers. The wet fabric stuck to my skin. I realized with a new wave of fear that my belt was still unbuckled and my zipper was half open. There was no good way to explain that.

“I need to use the washroom,” I said quickly, already walking away from the table. My voice sounded tight. I didn’t wait for anyone to answer. I left Chloe to deal with the situation she had started and headed toward the hallway, my heart beating hard.

Only then did I remember this wasn’t my house. The place was huge, full of long corridors and closed doors that all looked the same. I had no idea where the bathroom was. Every turn made me worry I might walk back into the dining room or run into her father. I kept walking with my trousers damp and still unfastened, the feeling of Chloe’s hand still lingering on me, hoping I could find a locked door before anyone came looking.

Then someone rested a hand on my shoulder, and the touch felt light but deliberate, and said, will a cool tone “You left for the washroom like it’s your own home. Where are you familiar with around here?”

I turned and found Chloe standing close, her eyes bright with mischief. “Come,” she continued, “let me show you the way to the restroom.”

Without thinking I followed her, moving as if drawn by an invisible string. The hallway was quiet. She walked ahead with easy confidence, hips swaying just enough to keep my attention fixed on her. When she stopped and opened a door, I stepped inside expecting tiles and mirrors—and instead found myself in her bedroom. Soft light from a bedside lamp warmed the space. A standing mirror faced the bed.

The door clicked shut behind me. Chloe turned then moved toward the mirror. She glanced at her reflection, then at me, and began undressing without hurry. First she lifted the armless crop top over her head, revealing the smooth curve of her waist and the soft swell of her breasts held only by a simple bra. She reached back, unhooked it, and let it fall. Her fair skin caught the light; pinkish nipples tightened in the cooler air of the room.

She slid her hands to the waistband of her skirt. It slipped down her thighs and pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it, standing now in nothing but thin panties. Her eyes stayed on mine through the mirror as she hooked her thumbs under the fabric and slowly drew the last piece of clothing down her legs. 

Completely bare, she turned to face me fully.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked, voice low, already closing the distance between us.

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her fingers found the buttons of my shirt and worked them open one by one. The fabric parted; she pushed it from my shoulders. Then she opened my belt, unzipped my trousers, and guided them down along with my underwear until I stood as naked as she was. A single fingertip pressed against my chest and nudged me backward. I yielded, sitting and then lying back on the bed as she climbed over me, the warmth of her bare skin meeting mine.