I switch browser pages back to hers and select something I’ve already seen: her last post. What better way to know if things have changed than to use content that failed to get me off before?
She fills the screen, almost more beautiful than before. Or is that my longing for what I can’t have? The familiar lines whisper from my speakers as she settles onto the bed and shows her toys, picking the purple one. I loosen my belt and pop the catch on my jeans open. Kyra teases that weapon along her glistening folds, and as she reaches the moment where I know she pushes it inside, the strangest fucking thing happens.
My dick pushes against my jeans to complain about the restriction.
I miss what she does next, instead fucking stunned to look down and see the thing I’ve been missing for years.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper before quickly dropping everything out of the way.
My dick sits proud, bobbing away from my stomach with each moan Kyra makes.
It fucking worked.It goddamn fucking worked.
I wrap my hand around the stiff shaft, immediately releasing a groan that rivals hers.Fuck, that feels good.Heightened sensations my body had forgotten, the sharp tingle of arousal that was no more than a faint fever dream in my memories. My palm moves toward the tip as I look back at the screen and find Kyra thrusting that goddamn dildo in and out with vicious strokes.
I match her pace, nipples hardening as I chase release also.
She slaps her free hand to her clit and uses two fingers to rub at the swollen nub vigorously.
Her climax builds, and fuck it, so does mine.
My balls draw tight as she starts to whimper, little cries sucked in with each inhale as she pushes herself to the brink.
Kyra comes, creamy goodness soaking the purple tool as she drags the dildo free and then thrusts it deep for one last leg-shaking climax, and I come too.
Thick ropes of cum that shoot onto my belly.
The high feels never-ending as I tug every drop free, leg shaking with the power of the release.
All as Kyra whispers the words that I’ve wanted to hear for more than a decade.
“You make me feel so good.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
KYRA
The answer waseasy to find. Sure, I don’t have definitive proof that this is what it is, but like my asshole father, my gut has never steered me wrong. I lean back on my seat with a sigh. Purchased four months ago via private treaty, the property was quietly shuffled through the appropriate stages until it landed in Davis’s possession. Never listed publicly. No agent used. Just a private agreement between two parties for a purchase price well below market rate.
“Is now not a good time?” Janis startles the hell out of me.
I tap my monitor to send it to sleep and grab something to appear busy. What I’m doing isn’t exactly illegal, but I’m sure I’ve violated a few privacy policies by snooping through council records I have no business viewing. “Just thinking it must be time for a coffee to pep me up,” I lie.
She makes a slight hum in her throat—maybe because she doesn’t believe me, perhaps because it sounds like a good idea. I can’t tell.
“Before you duck to the break room, I need to discuss something with you.” She stands stiffly, hands clasped in front of her hips. “Management has decided to reconfigure your role.”
“Pardon?” I push the paperwork aside when the stapler fails to work.
“You shouldn’t take it personally,” Janis says, settling against the desk beside me. “They didn’t exactly know what the role would be when they agreed to give me help.”
I wrestle with the stapler, which now refuses to stay open so that I can reload it.Swear the fucking thing is possessed.“I’m not naive, Janis. I know they created the job as a favor to Dad.” I know he’ll have something to do with this, given how we left things. “I should be surprised they promised a full-time role to begin with.”
“I mean,” she hedges, tilting her head. “That’s partially true. But I genuinely do need the extra hand, and I’ve asked for another person behind the desk for months.”
I stall what I’m doing and stare up at her, eyes narrowed. “You said it’s quiet these days. That hardly anyone comes in.”
“They don’t. Not to the reception desk. But the work I do with the online requests?” She thumbs over her shoulder to the closed office behind us. “That’s never-ending.”
