“Jesus Christ,” I groan, leaning back in my chair.
I’m attracted to her. More than attracted to her. I can’t stop thinking about her. About the way her eyes light up when she talks about energy and vibrations. How her voice gets light and breathy when she’s excited. The way her hair shines like an angel’s. The way her cheeks flush and her lips part every time she’s caught me staring at her.
The way her hips curve below her waist, creating the perfect ledge for my hand to rest on if I were to slide my arm around her like she was mine…
The perfect ledge to grip on to as I work her up and down my dick.
“Damn it.” I clench my fist around the rose quartz heart.
I’m surprised I don’t have an indent of the thing permanently pressed into my palm.
It’s what I do now. Whenever I’m at work, one hand is wrapped around the thing, like it’s my connection to her. I think about her constantly. Rushing to read texts she sends me. Snatching up my phone the second it rings in case it’s her.
Because since I held her in my arms at the Statue of Liberty, she’s been avoiding me. I’ve no doubt about it.
So now, I’m gripping this pink stone like it holds the answers to what I’m supposed to do. If I’m not, then it’s my dick at home I’m gripping, imagining the way she’d sound crying out my name, her nails digging into my ass as I thrust inside her.
Does she blush when she comes?
Would she manage to keep her eyes open and on mine as I come inside her, spilling every hot drop from my aching balls until it was running down her thighs?
Or would she close them, too overwhelmed with how hard I’d make her come all over my cock?
“Pervert,” I mutter with disgust as the crotch of my suit pants grows uncomfortably tight.
My phone rings, and I grab it, adjusting myself as I see her name on the screen.
Hallie.
I changed it the moment she asked me to call her that.
“Hello?” I answer, guilt making my mouth sour. I’m sitting here with a dick that’s painfully hard and leaking, knowing without a doubt it’ll not go fully down until I relieve myself to thoughts of her.
“Are you ready for tonight?”
The excited breathiness of her words has me biting the inside of my cheek to stop my groan.
“I am. Are you?”
“Definitely. I’ve got a good feeling about it. I even got a new dress.”
“You did?”
I relax in my seat as I listen to her chat easily. It’s like a caress of calm to my soul. We have the charity gala this evening. So even though she’s been avoiding seeing me in person, we’re about to spend all evening in one another’s company.
“I did. Sinclair took me shopping.”
Those four words are a wrecking ball shattering the peace in my chest and replacing it with a cold, stark reality.
My daughter.
The daughter who hired Hallie to find me love. My daughter, who is much closer in age than I am to the woman starring in my depraved fantasies. Ones filled with desperate, hot, sticky sex and mind-altering synchronized orgasms.
She’s twenty years younger than me.
She has her entire life ahead of her.
And it’s not one that features a man old enough to be her father.
