“Yes, I do,” I say to her, wondering what her game is. “Do you like my hand on your ass?”
She nods her head, not saying anything.
“It’s so fucking tight, I just want to rub my cock all over it,” I tell her, not believing the words coming out of my mouth.
This is like some twisted dream. Way beyond anything I could ever jerk off to. My Dad’s new wife sitting on my lap, straddling me, with her hand around my cock.
Her eyes are focused on my cock, as her hand moves up and down, carefully jerking me off. I’m still wearing my boxer briefs, but I’m not complaining. Nor am I making any move to take them off. Whatever she wants to do. This situation is too fucking crazy as it is.
I’m silent, watching her. Her breathing is coming in gasps.
I’m going to cum soon. No way I can fucking sit here and take this from an angel like her.
That’s when I hear a clatter in the kitchen. Both of us look toward the sound, her hand coming off my cock in an instant.
There’s a pause and then muffled feminine cursing in Spanish.
It’s Rosa—part of the cleaning staff for the townhouse.
Fucking Christ.
Jocelyn gets off of me and stands up in a heartbeat. She looks at me, and I see a flash of despair go over her eyes.
It’s nothing compared to what I’m fucking feeling right here. My cock is so fucking close to erupting. But it’s out of the question with Rosa in the other room.
Sighing, I stand up and put my boxer briefs back on, and zip up my jeans.
Jocelyn’s already left the room without another word.
It takes several deep breaths before I do the same.
I need to fucking calm down.
That shit was close. Any minute we could have been found out. No way Rosa would keep something like that quiet. The tabloids would pay a pretty fucking penny for a story like that. And that would be it for me. And Jocelyn.
No, I want you to listen to me as I tell you this. Because this shit is important.
I can’t let something like this happen with Jocelyn. Ever. Again.
If you see something like this happening, just fucking tell me to get the hell out of this situation, okay?
I’m dancing on the edge of the fire here. And I need your help before I get fucking burned.
Jocelyn
I go into the townhouse through the back entrance, not wanting to cause too much of a fuss. I don’t need the footman, the bellman, the doorman and the various members of the staff to stop what their doing and set it down to wish me a happy birthday today. I don’t want to be a bother to them.
Besides, if I really wanted to give myself a birthday present, I should try and do what I’ve been doing the last three days since the incident with Lance and I on the couch. That is, to avoid him completely.
Although in my case, the only way I’ve been able to avoid him has been to spend as much time away from the house as possible.
It’s doable. With Michael’s campaign not getting into full swing for a another couple of weeks, it gives me time to myself.
Sounds easy enough, right, hun?
Nope. And before you get upset at me that I may have tricked you into answering, please let me just say that I love the fact that you’re here and listening to me. I’ve never had someone like this who I could talk to about anything and everything.
Even my girlfriend from college who I met for lunch at 40 Carrot today for yogurt couldn’t understand what I was complaining about.