Hunter:Yes. Thinking about you. Wishing it were your hand instead of mine.
I press my thighs together, trying to quell the ache building there. This is ridiculous. I should be disgusted. I should be furious. Instead, I’m imagining walking across the street, taking the elevator up to his office, and?—
Hunter:Want to see? I can video call you.
My breath catches. The rational part of my brain is screaming to shut this down now. Block his number. Tell Olivia everything. But my thumb hovers over the keyboard, trembling slightly.
Me:I can’t. We can’t.
Hunter:We can do whatever we want, Aurora. No one has to know.
I close my eyes, picturing Olivia’s excited face this morning as she talked about flower arrangements. My sister. The only family I have left. The thought of her tears if she found out makes me feel sick.
But when I open my eyes again, I’m typing.
Me:I want to. God help me, I want to. But Olivia...
I delete the message before sending it and replace it with something shorter.
Me:This needs to stop.
But even as I type those words, I know I don’t mean them. And worse—Hunter knows it too.
My phone lights up with another notification. Despite every warning bell in my head, I turn it over.
The photo nearly stops my heart. Hunter again, but this time his cock is fully erect, the tip glistening with pre-cum, his large hand wrapped around the shaft. The image is framed to show just enough of his expensive watch and suit pants pushed down to his thighs, somehow making it even more obscene.
“Oh...” A soft moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Heat rushes through my body, settling between my legs with such intensity that I press my thighs together. The pressure only makes it worse. Better. Whatever this is.
I glance up at my office door—still open. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could see me flushed and breathing hard over a dick pic from my sister’s fiancé.
My legs feel unsteady as I stand, but I make it across the room. I close my office door with a decisive click.
Back at my desk, I stare at the photo again. My mouth has gone dry. I imagine how it would feel in my hand, against my lips, inside me?—
God, what am I doing?
But the throbbing between my thighs doesn’t care about morality or sisterhood or professionalism. My body has made its decision.
I sink into my chair, one hand mindlessly slipping to the waistband of my skirt as I type with the other.
Me:You’re going to destroy me.
His response is immediate.
Hunter:That’s the plan, princess. Every fucking inch of you.
My hands shake as I reach for my bag, fumbling for my Bluetooth earbuds. This is insane. I’m insane. But I can’t stop.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, slipping the earbuds in. I click the video call icon on Hunter’s contact.
One ring. Two rings. My heart pounds so hard I feel lightheaded.
His face appears on screen, those beautiful eyes boring into mine. He’s still in his office, jacket discarded, tie loosened. The ghost of a smirk plays on his lips.
“Look at you,” he says, voice low and rough. “All flushed and bothered in your office.”
