8. Cole
Seatedat the kitchen table with my laptop open in front of me, the screen covered in spreadsheets of stock market trends, I have a clear view into the living room, where Riley is playing with Archie.
It’s not the best place to get some work done—I would be much more focused up in the office, where Archie’s peals of laughter won’t be able to reach. But I can’t help myself. Even when I’m working, I want to be right here.
They’re playing Twister. Fucking Twister.
Archie spins the dial, giggling gleefully as he shrieks, “Right hand green!”
In compliance, Riley, already bent over in an undignified position, contorts herself to reach for the nearest green circle.
The way she moves gives me an unbelievable view of her body, her legs stretched out, her ass on plain display. Despite the dry spreadsheets in front of me, I can feel my cock twitch in my pants.
And she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me. She’s not even trying to be seductive at all, just having fun, playing with Archie.
I can’t stop glancing over at her, but it still makes me feel like a perv. Every time she bends and stretches, inadvertently showing off her best assets, I’m reminded of that brief glimpse I got of her naked body, when I went to her apartment to give her the job offer.
It’s only been a few days since she started working in the house, but every day, Archie seems to love her more. I have to admit, despite my reservations, that I’m glad to see Archie come out of his shell.
Finally, he has someone to look out for him, someone who won’t get distracted from his needs by the pressing demands of work. He has as much attention as he deserves.
But still, there’s doubt nagging in the back of my mind. I thought that if I ignored my attraction to Riley, it might diminish over time, but it’s only gotten stronger as I’ve gotten to know her.
I catch myself looking at her all the time—while she plays with Archie, or fixes him a sandwich for lunch, or shepherds him off to bed.
The small signs of her presence are all over the house. Little things, like the tiny doodles she makes on pieces of paper. It’s strange, having someone else share this space full-time with me and Archie.
Not just strange. Uncomfortable. Because every time I come into contact with evidence of Riley—a whiff of her shampoo, the sound of her laugh—it makes me want her.
Fiercely. Rabidly. It’s impossible to ignore. I’ve spent the past couple of days trying, all to no avail.
“Left hand yellow!” Archie shouts. Riley reaches her left hand for a yellow circle, her back arching.
I can’t fucking stand it anymore.
I get up, grabbing my laptop, and head into the living room just in time to see Riley unbalanced by a “left foot yellow.” She topples over with an adorable squeaking sound, then looks up at me, a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. Archie cackles maniacally, delighted.
“Oops,” she says, breathless. “Wow, that’s harder than it looks.”
“You fell over,” Archie says between giggles.
“I sure did. You think you can do any better?” Riley teases, pushing herself upright.
I clear my throat to get both of their attention, making sure to position myself behind the couch, where Riley won’t see the evidence of what she’s done to me. “I’m going to work in my office for the rest of the evening,” I say. “Good night, Archie.”
I beckon Archie over to the couch, and he climbs up on the cushions for a kiss. I nod curtly to Riley, almost unable to look at her. That will only make things worse.
I barricade myself in my office, cursing myself silently. Settling in at the desk, I try to will my half-hard cock to calm the fuck down, but images of Riley keep flashing into my head. She’s everywhere. It’s almost impossible to avoid her.
And I definitely can’t get any work done like this.
Just this once, I tell myself, shame burning through me at my inability to control myself. I just need to get it out of my system. Then I can focus on work.
I get up from the desk and head out into the hallway, toward my bedroom two doors down.
* * *
Riley
Archieand I play Twister for another fifteen minutes or so, long enough for me to almost pull at least five muscles. I forgot what it was like to play Twister; maybe I should’ve stretched beforehand, or something.
Archie, of course, has the carefree elasticity of a little kid. I don’t think he could hurt himself playing this game if he tried. He beats me handily, laughing his head off the entire time.
Eventually, after another humiliating defeat that twists my body into a pretzel, I hold up a hand and say, “Uh oh, check it out—it’s getting real dark outside.”
Archie pauses in his laughter and glances toward the large windows, at the quiet street outside. Night has fallen, and the streetlamp on the sidewalk immediately outside of the Sullivan household has turned on.
“Aw,” Archie says, sounding disappointed.
“Time for bed, kiddo. Come on, you don’t want to be tired tomorrow, do you?”
Reluctantly, Archie helps me fold up the Twister mat and pack away the cardboard spinners into the box. I place it on the shelf of board games in Archie’s playroom, then usher him upstairs to bed.
It’s probably for the best. I don’t think I would survive yet another game of Twister.
I help Archie brush his teeth, then wait as he gets into pajamas and climbs into bed.
I tuck him in and, upon request, improvise another chapter in the now-ongoing saga of The Adventures of Archie’s Dinosaur. Archie props up the title character on the pillow next to him, like the little dinosaur wants to hear the story himself.
Finally, as I conclude the bedtime story, I pat the bedsheets and stand up to turn out the light.
“Wait,” Archie says, stopping me.
I glance over at him. “Yeah? What’s up?”
He doesn’t look tired like he normally does at this time of night. “I need one of my stuffies,” he says. “Trevor.”
I’ve seen Trevor, a button-eyed plush lion with a fluffy cotton mane. “Okay,” I say indulgently. “Do you remember where you last left him? I’ll go grab him for you, and then you can all get some sleep.”
“I brought it into my daddy’s room,” he says. “We were doing hide-and-seek, and me and Dino never found him because he was too good at it.”
I stifle my chuckle, nodding seriously. “Gotcha. I’ll go look there, then. You get settled in, and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes with Trevor, ‘kay?”
Archie nods, hunching down under his covers. I start toward Mr. Sullivan’s bedroom in search of the toy.
I assume that Mr. Sullivan is in his office, working; the door is closed, but I can see light seeping from underneath it. The door to his bedroom is open just a crack. I push it open and step inside.
As I do, I hear a low sound that almost sounds like… my name. I freeze, startled.
Mr. Sullivan is in the bedroom, on the opposite side of the bed. The lights are low, but I can still make him out—his shirt still on, but his pants unbuckled, his cock in his hand. He strokes himself a few more times before noticing I’m there.
Our gazes lock, and all of the oxygen seems to leave the room.
We stand there, staring at each other, locked in place. I can’t help the way my eyes flit down to his huge cock. At the sight of it, every possible excuse dies in my mind. I’m speechless.
Then, in a husky voice, Mr. Sullivan breaks the silence. “Close the door.”
He doesn’t specify which side of the door I should be on, so I assume, through a haze, that it’s up to me.
I turn to close the door, obeying him automatically. But I stay inside the room. I closed the door, and closed us both in here together.
He doesn’t say a word, and neither do I, but I can feel something building between us, an almost palpable tension. His eyes are hungry as he stares at me.
Slowly, he strokes himself once more.
I swallow, watching him, heat rising in my cheeks.
He strokes his cock again. And again. He starts to get back into it, the muscles in his forearms tensing, his jaw tightening. His eyes never leave me.
It feels like an eternity as he gets himself closer and closer. The room feels so hot that I could combust. There’s a desperate need in my core.
My clit throbs. I can feel the slight wetness in my panties. I wonder if he knows what the sight of him like this is doing to me.
He definitely seems to know. There’s an aura of control around him that’s entrancing to me. He groans as he comes, spilling over his hand.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.
In the aftermath, though, I can see the post-orgasm clarity begin to settle on him. I realize, abruptly, what I’m doing.
I just walked in on my boss jerking off. I swear I heard him say my name. And then I stayed to watch.
Oh my god.
In a panic, I lurch into motion. I flee the room, throwing the door closed behind myself, and race back to Archie’s bedroom.
“Did you find him?” asks Archie.
I shake my head, trying to compose myself. “Sorry, kiddo,” I say. “He’s a really good hider. I don’t think he knows the game is over yet. Silly Trevor.”
“Silly Trevor!” Archie echoes, then adds, “But what if he’s lost?”
“Don’t worry, buddy, he’s definitely not lost.” I blink rapidly, my mind racing. “Um, he’ll probably come out tomorrow. In the meantime, maybe we could find someone else to keep you company.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. How about this fella right here?” I reach for a stuffed turtle sitting on top of Archie’s desk. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Sheldon,” Archie informs me.
“Perfect,” I say, hoping he’ll go for it as I hold up the turtle. “Sheldon can snuggle up with you guys for tonight, and Trevor will be back tomorrow. Good night, Archie.”
Archie reaches for Sheldon, burrowing down into his blankets.
“Good night,” he says, finally sounding tired. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered and out-of-sorts I am right now, which is good.
I turn off the lights and retreat behind the door, heading straight back to my own private room. I need to be alone for a bit. I need a cold fucking shower. But most of all, I need to forget what I just saw… even though I already know that will be impossible.