Find myself leaning onto the sink, staring into the mirror—but I’m not seeing myself.
I’m seeing her.
Bent over this very sink.
Her eyes on mine in the mirror.
Body shaking as I drive into her—
I twist away with a groan, scrubbing my face as if to scrub away the images.
I don’t want her.
I don’t.
But when I get into the shower, my cock is decidedly singing a very different tune. My cock is thinking about Delia. About what it would be like to peel those shorts off, unzip that bra…feel her skin on mine, taste those luscious tits.
I have myself in my fist, in a tight, punishing grip. Telling myself not to do it.
But I can’t fucking help it.
I picture her naked, reaching for me, saying my name not with vitriol but ecstasy…shaking all over as I make her come a thousand times.
What makes me come, though? An image that should scare the absolute hell out of me.
I come while imagining myself onmyknees in front of her. Makinghercome. With my mouth. Making her scream my name until she begs me to stop.
I explode with a teeth-gritted bellow, and then I watch the shower water rinse it down the drain…
And feel like a tool.
There are a million reasons why it’ll never happen, why even thinking about her like that is wrong.
I’m torturing myself with fantasies that will never happen…
And shit, it’s not like I actuallywantthem to happen…
Right?
The resounding lack of affirmation in my own head at that question definitely worries me.
I clean off, dress, and head to work. It takes real effort to put her out of my mind.
All that effortgoes to waste when I finally make it to the office, later that afternoon; I’d spent the morning working with Cal, going over the finishing touches on a house that’s just about ready to go up for sale.
Why does it go to waste?
Because Delia clearly dressed just to mess with my head.
Denim miniskirt with knee-high leather boots. Low-cut yellow top that pulls my gaze where it doesn’t belong.
I spend the rest of the afternoon around the office, doing my damnedest to not stare at her various assets and actually get work done.
Such as, arrange for Marcus to come in and make a pitch.
Such as get Albion’s top rep to come make a pitch, rather than whatever undergrad newbie they’ve clearly been sending.
Also yet another reason why I have to put a stop to thinking about Delia sexually—this is work. She’s my coworker. Mypartner. It’s not like that and can’t be like that and will never be like that, and letting my lust for her curves play games with my head is only going to endanger the work I’ve put in toward getting her to trust me.
