Her conscience was trying its hardest to reconnect with her hypnotized mind, but it was no use. She knew invading his privacy like that was ugly and unethical. It was disrespectful and shameful. And so pathetic. But the rarity of what she was witnessing was such a feast, she couldn't deprive herself of it.

Elizabeth was staring mesmerized, as his hand kept gliding over himself languidly; the streetlights reflecting on that damned Rolex. This was no mundane act of releasing tension, she could tell. He was enjoying this.

His soft groans and ragged breathing inspired her to evoke the same sounds out of him one day. One day soon.

He was stroking the head of his cock, spreading his own moisture down what looked like a very generous shaft.

His movements sped up naturally and he came, moaning beautifully. So wonderfully, it made her gasp.

Trouble was, gasps were audible in the dark and quiet.

She knew he'd sensed her presence the moment he stopped breathing.

A moment later, he faced her.

She wanted to die a quick death.