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Chapter 8 by thenewagewriter thenewagewriter

What's next?

Apology!

Her fingers stilled, pulling back slowly, leaving my bulge throbbing visibly, tenting the scrubs obscenely with a wet spot blooming at the tip. 'I'm sorry, Holly,' she murmured softly, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, voice laced with regret as she sat back, hands folding in her lap.

'I got carried away. You were opening up, and... I just wanted to make you feel less alone. Less homesick. But that was too much, too soon.'

My heart pounded, chest heaving as I stared at the table, the ghost of her touch burning on my skin. The lounge door swung open briefly, a coworker grabbing a snack without a glance our way, but the risk of it all heightened everything—the exposure, the connection.

I reached out, touching her hand lightly. 'No, it's... it's fine, Lena. Really. It felt... good. Surprisingly good. Like a reminder that I'm not invisible here.'

My voice was soft, honest, the mix of emotions swirling: the sting of missing home, the warmth of her understanding, and now this undercurrent of desire, my cock still half-hard, aching for more even as I blushed furiously.

What's next?

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