Page 3 of Breaking His Rules

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I step into the walk-in shower, and stand there, wanting nothing but to sink to my knees and let the water beat over me, but I know if I did that I’d never get up and actually make it to bed. I’d probably fall asleep with the water raining down on me.

I finish wetting my hair, knowing it needs to be washed after about a week’s worth of dry shampoo has been used and it could probably stick up on its own if I brushed it. I leave my conditioner in while I shave. The Florida heat and sun is terrible on your hair and skin. I lather myself daily in sunscreen and make sure I take the time to let my hair get the hydration needed. When I’m finally done and rinsing the soap off my body, my memory takes me back to Mr. Jackson, well Evan really. Even though I know I would never ever be able to call him Evan out loud to his face.

He’s tall, much taller than my five-foot-four frame. I had to look up at him, he must be well over six foot tall. He had on a pair of black slacks and a white button up shirt, with the sleeves folded up to his forearms. And those arms, I almost sighed when I saw them. They’re muscular, his skin was dark, much darker than even my olive skin complexion, and you could see the veins that ran up towards his biceps that I didn’t get to look at, his shirt blocking my way.

When he smiled and looked into my eyes, I was almost struck silent. He had dark chocolate eyes, almost black, his hair was cut short on the sides and laid haphazardly on top of his head, as if he ran his hands through it multiple times a day.

If it wasn’t for Jessica nudging my in the side, reminding me to speak I would have stood there like a mute. She mentioned before going into Evan’s office he could be kind of a jerk, but I didn’t get that feeling at all. He seemed warm. Someone who would hold you when you broke down and needed a shoulder to cry on and he’d be the one to hug you so deep, you’d feel it in your bones.

I step out of the shower and dry off, throw my hair up in a hair turban and do my nightly ritual with my moisturizer and head to bed. Once I’m inside my cool bed sheets, my thoughts drift back to Evan and how it would feel to have his hands on me. Would they slide up my legs, opening me up just for his gaze? Would his fingertips travel up towards my most private area, as my fingers are now? I slowly drag them up to my pussy and play with my clit. I’m already wet just imagining Evan being here with me, his dark eyes smoldering with want as he watches his fingers slowly play with me. I make small firm circles on my clit. The friction isn’t enough. I slowly dip my fingers inside myself gathering my moisture and bringing it back up to where I need it the most. My head drops back onto my pillows as I rock my hips and continue playing with my clit. I give into my need and come and scream out, “Evan,” as I come.

My new boss just made me come and he wasn’t even here to do it. I’m completely and utterly screwed.

4

Evan

I haven’t seen Harlow in almost a week now. I got called back to the East Coast, apparently one of my chefs got pissed off and decided to throw a knife in the kitchen. Too bad it missed the wall and hit a damn gas line causing me to shut down for three days until the gas company could come fix it. Then I had to find another Chef, having one that volatile and make me lose thousands of dollars is not someone I want as an employee.

I walk into the front of Ocean Breeze this afternoon and see Harlow bussing tables. She’s wearing her customary black skirt and white short sleeve shirt. Something that should look drab on her, but it doesn’t. If anything it accentuates the shape of her body, a body I’ve been dreaming of day and night.

Curves that haunt my dreams, that have me fisting my cock at every moment I can. Hell, it’s even happened in my office. I’d be in the middle of a telephone conference and I’d bring up the memory of her breasts outlining her shirt and how I’d rip those buttons down and see the white lace bra that I caught a glimpse of in our one meeting. I’d suck on her nipples until she was whimpering with need and make her straddle my lap. Allowing her to feel my cock and the way it outlines my pants with just a thought of her.


Tags: Tory Baker Erotic