My cock jerks beneath my hand, and I know there’s only one way I’ll be able to get her out of my head.
I go to my office door, engage the lock, and pull down the blind on the glass panel. Flicking open my belt buckle, I yank it apart then pop the button on my jeans and undo the zipper. I’m not wearing any underwear, and my cock falls out into my palm. The skin is hot, with iron beneath it. I close my fingers around my length and squeeze.Fuck yes, that feels good.
I wish I had something of Camile’s I could use while I fuck my hand, like her panties, or that fucking silky slip of a dress she tortured me with all those months ago, but my imagination and memory will have to do. Perhaps I should think about someone else—one of the sweetbutts in the club who are happily getting fingered by my men while having an audience—but that won’t do it for me. Ineed her. Sweet, and innocent, and right now, hurt. Fuck. Why does it turn me on even more that she’s vulnerable right now?
My thoughts go back to the night when she’d thrown herself at me. As I run my hand up and down my cock, I remember how I’d bracketed her against the wall with my arms, and the shocked look it caused in her big brown eyes. I’d told her not to play games she didn’t understand before leaning in and pressing my nose against her throat, running it up the column of her neck. The coconut scent of her skin has embedded itself in my brain ever since.
I let out a deep groan and use my free hand to brace myself against the desk. My t-shirt pulls tight against my nipples, highlighting the twin piercings, much like the one running through the head of my cock. Most of my body is covered in tattoos, and the parts that aren’t tattooed are pierced. Does Camile have any tattoos or piercings? I bet she doesn’t. I imagine our skin pressed together. Hers will be all smooth and virginal, mine inked and scarred. My cock throbs at the thought, and I grip myself tighter.
Would she like the contrast, the way my cock loves the thought?
I’d warned her off that night, told her that I wasn’t like one of her college boys, that I was too old for her, and she’d told me she liked older men. But would she really like me if she actually knew me? With the hardware, and the ink, including the lines etched into my thigh for every man I’ve killed?
I’d almost given in right in that moment. I’d wanted nothing more than to show her exactly all the ways I could ruin her. Our size difference alone would tear herto shreds, and I’d wanted to yank up her skirt, drag her panties to one side, and fuck her up against the wall with my hand covering her mouth so her friends in the other room didn’t hear her screams. Somehow, I’d held myself back, but not enough. I’d reached out to touch that beautiful mouth of hers, and rubbed my thumb across her bottom lip, and, Christ, the way she’d darted out her tongue and licked it.
Fuck, the memory alone almost makes me come.
After that, I’d sent her back to her friends, so she hadn’t seen how I’d put my thumb in my mouth and sucked off her saliva. Would she let me taste her again? I picture myself hooking my thumb right inside her mouth this time, pressing against her tongue as I yank her heels around my hips, and?—
No, fucking hell. I cannot think about what her pussy would look like, her tight, wet, far too young for me pussy. I can’t think about how it would struggle to take my size, and how I’d have to talk her through the amount I would stretch her.
I hang my head and groan, my fist working even faster. I pause to flick the piercing in the tip and milk myself for some precum to lube the way. My balls draw tight into my body, and the sound of me masturbating over thoughts of my daughter’s best friend fill the room. I picture her pink pussy stretching around the width of my dick, and I can’t hold myself back any longer. Pleasure races up my spine, my ass and thighs clench and quiver, and my orgasm explodes out of me.
“Ah, fuck.”
I come hard all over my desk, creamy ribbons raining down across the dark wood, the paperwork, even the fucking glass I’d been drinking out of. Jesus Christ. It’slike I had a month’s worth saved up. No wonder I was losing my fucking mind.
I drop my hand from my dick and place it on the desk to join my other one. Head bent, I suck in air as I wait for my heart to stop pounding.
Hammering comes at the office door, jolting me out of my post climactic haze. “Prez, you in there?”
It’s the new kid, Rook. What the hell does he want?
“Not now,” I yell back.
“But Prez?—”
“Fuck off,” I roar at him.
He fucks off. Sensible.
I don’t want to be interrupted right now. Not only is my dick still hanging out of the front of my jeans, but my desk is covered in semen. I shake my head as I tuck myself away.
If that was the result of me fantasizing about getting my cock inside Camile Montez, I’d probably get her pregnant just by looking at her if it was the real thing.
4
ACE
I enter the barn,the one that houses old, beaten-up bikes and some machinery, and climb the ladder leading to the hayloft.
Peering over the edge, I smile. “Hey there, Mama Kitty. How ya doing?”
The little cat had sneaked onto our land, belly low to the ground, skinny-ribbed but clearly pregnant, and made herself a home in the barn.
I’ve been bringing her treats ever since. She’s got to keep her strength up to feed her three kittens. Reaching into my jeans pocket, I pull out the handkerchief and unwrap it, revealing the pieces of chicken I’ve smuggled out of the kitchen at the clubhouse.
As soon as I put the pieces down next to her, she wolfs them down. Orcatsthem down, I suppose, if we’re being accurate. I fight a wave of cuteness aggression, wanting to pick her up and bury my face in her fur and squish her into a tiny ball of mush, but I manage to hold myself back.
