Chapter Fourteen
HIM
The water’s hot againstmy back, but it’s doing nothing to ease the ache between my shoulder blades.
But I’m barely noticing it.
My cock is hard and it’s slippery in my hands.
I can’t stop thinking of her. The way she was lying there, sleeping. Her hair like a chocolate waterfall, falling over her shoulder, over her face, her lips slightly parted, her t-shirt drifting up under her breasts exposing an expanse of smooth, soft white skin of her stomach.
God. My hand grips my cock harder as I remember standing there, watching her chest rise and fall with her breath.
Her breasts, her goddamn round, full, luscious breasts, brushing against my leg as I pulled the blanket over her. To keep her warm as much as hide her body from my eyes, tempting me, making my body tense with need, with lust, with a craving to release. On her.
And that goddamn fucking mouth. Red, moist lips, inviting me with every breath, every sigh.
I haven’t been able to stop imagining that mouth wrapped around my cock, milking me for everything I have.
Oh, God, my cock twitches at the thought of her kneeling in front of me in this shower right now, my hands in her hair, pushing her mouth onto me.
The come rises, and I’m already ready to climax.
“Fuck, Jade. Take my cock.” I grunt, and I feel my cock jerk as I lean against the shower wall while I feel my balls empty, shooting hard and long.
It’s been so long, days filled with pent-up frustration because of the strange woman in my apartment.
Who I just can’t stop fantasizing about fucking.
Running my fingertips over my softening cock head, washing it clean, I growl with the feeling of restlessness. Instead of feeling satisfied, I just feel robbed. I didn’t want to come in the fucking gym shower at work. I wanted to come in her mouth.
I turn off the water and walk out naked to my change room, catching my frown in the fogged-up mirror.
When I am going to get her out of my system?
***
As she is every morning, Jemima’s waiting for me to clear her to come upstairs when I get to my office.
“Morning, Mr. Ashley,” she says, stepping off the elevator, seeing me standing at her desk.
“Jem,” I answer, rubbing my hair dry with my gym towel, looking through the mail I’d asked the mail room to bring straight up to my office.
“What are those?” she asks, pointing to the mail stack while eyeing the towel, a question flashing over her face.
“Mail. I asked the mail room to bring them up.”
“But they’re not sorted yet,” she tells me, settling down in her chair, turning her computer on.
“I can see that.”
“Then, why are you wast-..,”
“I can damn well look at the mail sent to my goddamn office in my own goddamn building if I want to, Ms. Taylor, if that’s alright with you! Now if you’re done interrogating me, why don’t you do your job and get Xavier here. Now.”
She stares at me for a moment, then turns away, her neck already burning red.
Ah, shit.