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.
“Sorry. I just… I, I haven’t been sleeping.”
“It’s perfectly alright.” I can tell be the way she’s blinking really fast that it’s not.
“I just thought I would have a look, see if there’s anything abnormal that might tell me who this ‘J’ person is.”
“Of course,” she clears her throat. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I’m being sent away. Probably so she can cry or curse me. Either way, I figure she has a right to do it.
“Er, no. Just, um, please get Xavier on the phone ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. The last time she called me that, I’d just thrown a vase against the window and she’d walked in just as it had smashed all over the floor. It’s not behavior I want her to be reminded of
I go into my office and close the glass door behind me.
The phone rings and I answer it on speaker.
“Mr. Kent for you,” my secretary tells me, hesitantly.
“Um, thank you, Jemima.”
“Yo.” Xavier answers, horns blaring in the background.
“You on the way to my apartment?”
“No. Why?”
“To do your job! Get rid of the girl!”
“That’s not my job, that sounds like something my client does and then I have to bail them out of jail for doing.”
“Just get rid of her Xavier, I can’t have her walking around… just… sleeping on my couch looking all…”
“What? Looking all what?”
“Nothing.”
“Aw, man. No. You are so fucked. What has she done to you?”
“Do it! Or you’re fired.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s Tuesday, what else is new.”
He hangs up on me before I can do it myself. That’s twice now. She’s disrupting the whole harmony of my life.
I switch on my computer, hesitating for a moment before clicking on the security camera feed from my apartment.
I tune in just as a figure jumps up onto the couch and throws a blanket on the floor.
HER
The water’s hot on my back, but it does nothing to ease the ache in my temples.
I hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but my stitches are pulling, not feeling quite right, and the ache in my head throbbed all night. Lying in one position on the couch didn’t really help the situation either.
But the water pressure from the three spouts in the shower, overhead and around the midsection, bombard my naked body with a luxurious therapy that I’m reluctant to end.
Half an hour later my fingers resemble dehydrated fruit. I turn the water off and wrap myself in one of the giant, fluffy towels on the heated rack.
I’d stumbled over a linen closet on the far wall of the gargantuan bathroom and found a bathrobe in there, too. Since I’d spent the last day and a half in the same clothes, I had no intention of adorning my newly massaged clean body with them.
Wrapping my hair in the towel turban-like on top of my head, I wander around the apartment bedroom, looking for something to wear.
It takes a moment for me to realize I’m in a bedroom when I get to his.
The bed is the only clue; otherwise, it resembles no bedroom I’ve ever seen.
There is nothing in the room but a cement floor, a king-sized bed, a giant white woollen rug and the view of Central Park.
“Woww…” I exhale as I run my toes through the carpet and wander over to the bed. It looks like it came out of a designer catalogue for billionaires. The quilt cover is soft, like butter under my palm. In a moment of utter lunacy, I step back from the bed and take a leap onto it, landing on my back, bang in the middle of the mattress. It barely moves. It just moulds around my body, easing every niggling ache and pain.
“Holy hell.” Why would anyone ever leave this thing? I lie star-fished on the bed, reaching for the corners, to no avail. There’s no end to the mattress.
There’s a flash of K laying on the bed, naked. And my face blares hot.
I quickly slide to the edge and climb off.