His hand reaching down, wrapping around himself, thick and hard and glistening, him saying,Yes what, baby girl? Say it. While you’re still able to talk.
He’d push inside me without waiting, one strong arm braced beside my head, the other gripping my thigh as he drove in deep. I’d cry out, my fingers scrabbling at his back, my body arching into him, wrecked already and begging for more.Say it while you still can. Before I fuck the words out of you.
My body nearly buckles.
Another wave crashes through me, bigger this time, like my body is turning itself inside out trying to find relief. The tension builds sharp and fast, a burning, unbearable need sitting just under my skin.
I somehow choke out, “Yes, I can handle that,” and it’s not a lie exactly, but it’s amiracleI get it out at all.
He holds my gaze, and I swear he knows. That he canfeelwhat’s happening. The tremble in my limbs, the flush creeping over my chest. The way I can’t quite look at him without thinking about what it would feel like to be bent over his desk and stripped of every excuse.
But he doesn’t say anything else. He just turns, voice calm but firm. “Meet me down at the charter in five minutes. And, Ash? Don’t be late again.”
Then he’s walking away, and the second the door clicks shut behind him, my body detonates.
The orgasm barrels through me, sudden and savage. My hand shoots out to grab the edge of the desk just to stay upright, my other pressing hard against my stomach to keep from crying out again. My thighs clench together, my whole body vibrating with release.
I come, standing here in the middle of the office, fully dressed, shaking and panting and helpless.
Just from his voice.
Just from theideaof him.
Wave after wave rolls through me, my head dropping forward, hair falling into my face as I gasp through it. It feels endless, like the dam has broken and there’s no putting it back. When it finally begins to ebb, I’m left limp and shattered and horrified by my own reaction.
What the hell is wrong with me?
And how the fuck am I supposed to survive the rest of the day?
I push off the desk on shaking legs and rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
My reflection in the mirror is a disaster. Flushed face despite the masculine makeup. Eyes too bright and glassy. Lips parted and swollen like I’ve been kissed. I look thoroughly messed up, which is unfortunately accurate.
I clean myself up as best I can, horrified by how wet I am, how thoroughly my body betrayed me. I change both scent patches with fresh ones from my pocket and try to pull myself together.
You can do this. It’s just a charter. Just a few hours on a boat. You’ve handled worse.
Except I haven’t. I really, really haven’t.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and head back out.
With the work phone and laptop in a bag and over my shoulder, the walk down to the docks feels surreal, like I’m moving through a dream. My body is still humming with residual pleasure, still sensitive and reactive in ways that beg me to crawl back into bed and hide.
I’m halfway across the pier when I spy Jasper walking toward me from the opposite direction, hands in his pockets, that captivating smile on his face when he sees me.
He nudges me as we pass, friendly and casual like guys do, but it’s harder than I expect and I stumble.
He immediately catches me by the arm, steadying me with easy strength. “Hey, careful there, man. Thought you could take it.”
His hand is warm through my jacket. Solid. And for just a second, we’re close enough that I can see the exact moment something shifts in his expression.
He pauses. Sniffs the air.
Oh, fuck.
“You smell…” He trails off, his brow furrowing. Then his eyes widen slightly. “Why do you smell like her?”
I freeze. My brain completely shorts out, all the blood draining from my face.
