of himself plowing the hell out of her in my mind, and now, well, now I wanted to break his nose. Instead, I inhaled slowly and did my best to release the fury with the air in my lungs. “I'm paid to obsess about those things because you can’t be trusted to.”
He scoffed as he looked away dismissively. “I have a flight to catch in a few hours. Do you intend to accompany me to Dallas, or do you think my cock and I can be trusted for five days?” He stood, grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair and slipping it up his arms and over his shoulders. He eyed me coldly as I remained seated.
“I don’t know.” I leaned back in the chair I was sitting in. “I suppose it depends on how many hookers you intend to fuck or how many strip clubs you’ll be visiting.”
David laughed quietly. “You must be kidding, right? I would never go to a strip club.” He tugged the cuff of his shirt down below the wrist of his suit jacket. “The strip club would come to me.” He started to walk away, leaving me to stare at his desk and the mountain of paperwork sitting there. “Oh, I forgot to mention.” He stepped back to me. “I have a prostate exam next week when I get back in town. Should I expect you for that? I mean, that is tantamount to what you do for a living, isn’t it?” And then he did walk away.
“Fucking prick,” I said under my breath when his door closed.
I sat there motionless for a while, stewing in irritation. It was mid-week following the night I’d spent with Gabrielle, and every moment I spent with David made me want to retell every second of that night in vivid detail while David was tied up immobile to a chair. I very much wanted to teach him a lesson.
Yet, for some reason, I wasn’t willing to do it yet.
I had little patience for people who lacked self-control. Actually, that wasn’t true. I wouldn’t have a job if every man in the world understood restraint and self-control. What I had little patience for was a narcissistic man who wouldn’t take my good advice. David very clearly fell in that category.
When I stood, I rounded David’s desk, rapping my fingertips along the desktop as I moved. His computer screen was still awake, and I reached down, touching the mouse to ensure it would stay awake for a bit longer. I turned around, staring out the large office window behind the desk, and pulses of electric need surged through my body.
I sat at the desk, pulling up David’s browser history. When I found the “free” email service in the history, I clicked on it. A mailbox popped up. It was the same exact tactic I’d used last time I set up a “date” with Gabe. David was right, the email address he’d set up was an address and name as nondescript as the one I was getting ready to send an email to. The problem was it wouldn’t matter if anyone ever chose to trace the IP address. And if I was able to find the mailbox in his browser history, what’s to say someone else couldn’t as well?
None of those concerns stopped my cock from getting hard as I typed the message.
7PM with Gabrielle at Fresh on N. Green Street tomorrow night.
I hit Send.
I tried to work while I waited for a response, but it proved impossible, and I ended up staring at the email, waiting, drumming my fingertips on the desktop impatiently. When that became too much, I spun his chair around and gazed off at the city around me. It was expansive, it was tall, it was even overwhelming at times, and somewhere out there was a young woman with the most kissable lips I’d ever seen.
I wanted that mouth again.
When David’s email alert dinged, I swiveled the chair back around.
Forward From: G.
I’ll see you at 7.
End Message.
I ran my hand over my mouth, exhaling against my skin.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I whispered.
This wasn’t how I operated. My job description didn’t include sex, but I’d be damned if I could think of anything at all except the many different ways I wanted to fuck
He scoffed as he looked away dismissively. “I have a flight to catch in a few hours. Do you intend to accompany me to Dallas, or do you think my cock and I can be trusted for five days?” He stood, grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair and slipping it up his arms and over his shoulders. He eyed me coldly as I remained seated.
“I don’t know.” I leaned back in the chair I was sitting in. “I suppose it depends on how many hookers you intend to fuck or how many strip clubs you’ll be visiting.”
David laughed quietly. “You must be kidding, right? I would never go to a strip club.” He tugged the cuff of his shirt down below the wrist of his suit jacket. “The strip club would come to me.” He started to walk away, leaving me to stare at his desk and the mountain of paperwork sitting there. “Oh, I forgot to mention.” He stepped back to me. “I have a prostate exam next week when I get back in town. Should I expect you for that? I mean, that is tantamount to what you do for a living, isn’t it?” And then he did walk away.
“Fucking prick,” I said under my breath when his door closed.
I sat there motionless for a while, stewing in irritation. It was mid-week following the night I’d spent with Gabrielle, and every moment I spent with David made me want to retell every second of that night in vivid detail while David was tied up immobile to a chair. I very much wanted to teach him a lesson.
Yet, for some reason, I wasn’t willing to do it yet.
I had little patience for people who lacked self-control. Actually, that wasn’t true. I wouldn’t have a job if every man in the world understood restraint and self-control. What I had little patience for was a narcissistic man who wouldn’t take my good advice. David very clearly fell in that category.
When I stood, I rounded David’s desk, rapping my fingertips along the desktop as I moved. His computer screen was still awake, and I reached down, touching the mouse to ensure it would stay awake for a bit longer. I turned around, staring out the large office window behind the desk, and pulses of electric need surged through my body.
I sat at the desk, pulling up David’s browser history. When I found the “free” email service in the history, I clicked on it. A mailbox popped up. It was the same exact tactic I’d used last time I set up a “date” with Gabe. David was right, the email address he’d set up was an address and name as nondescript as the one I was getting ready to send an email to. The problem was it wouldn’t matter if anyone ever chose to trace the IP address. And if I was able to find the mailbox in his browser history, what’s to say someone else couldn’t as well?
None of those concerns stopped my cock from getting hard as I typed the message.
7PM with Gabrielle at Fresh on N. Green Street tomorrow night.
I hit Send.
I tried to work while I waited for a response, but it proved impossible, and I ended up staring at the email, waiting, drumming my fingertips on the desktop impatiently. When that became too much, I spun his chair around and gazed off at the city around me. It was expansive, it was tall, it was even overwhelming at times, and somewhere out there was a young woman with the most kissable lips I’d ever seen.
I wanted that mouth again.
When David’s email alert dinged, I swiveled the chair back around.
Forward From: G.
I’ll see you at 7.
End Message.
I ran my hand over my mouth, exhaling against my skin.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I whispered.
This wasn’t how I operated. My job description didn’t include sex, but I’d be damned if I could think of anything at all except the many different ways I wanted to fuck
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