Unwrapped Desires
I turned toward the far wall, where a section of bookshelf sat slightly ajar—just enough to see light spilling through.
And something else.
Movement.
I shouldn’t have gone closer. I knew that.
But curiosity beats out reason.
I stepped quietly toward the opening, holding my breath.
And I saw him.
Mr. Cross.
Sitting back in a low leather chair. Shirt unbuttoned. Head tilted back.
His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in slow, desperate rhythm.
I blinked, heart pounding wildly.
He didn’t see me. Didn’t hear me.
I turned away quickly, heat rushing to my cheeks. I backed up, one step, then two, until I could breathe again.
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