Today, he looked at me like he was ready to devour every inch of me. Like he could barely keep himself from bending me over and taking out every need and desire he ever had.
I wonder what would have happened if I pushed him more? What if his hand had slid up my thigh instead of into my hand? Wonderfully naughty things, that’s for damn sure.
I can’t resist. My fingers circle and tease my clit as I bite back a moan. I’m good at getting myself off, so it doesn’t take me long. Especially with these steamy thoughts and the privacy of the shower to cover my moans. As my two fingers curl inside me, I see James, steam wrapping around him, lapping at his tan skin and clinging to his five o’clock shadow. His hand stroking over his hard, thick cock.
I think of him looming over me in his office, shamelessly fucking me on his desk. His fingers, so masculine and big compared to mine. I wanted to feel them inside me, relentlessly making me come again and again.
With that I give in. My body arches, and my pussy squeezes my fingers. I pant and steady myself on the wall. My fantasy washes down the drain, and I’m in the shower again. I finish rinsing my hair out with James still on my mind.
I’ve never had a man tease me like that. He gave off the vibe that he was interested. He was flirty in such a sexy, dirty daddy way. But it would be stupid to think it would lead to anything, right? I better get control of my libido and overactive imagination now before it gets me in trouble. I’m sure he thinks I’m too young.
“Nothing will happen between us.” I shake my head as I wrap myself in a towel. “I’m a kid compared to him. And nothing should happen if we’re working together.”
“Working? What are you talking about? Did you get that job?”
I jump and nearly fall over. It’s my roommate, Camille. She’s got a sick sense of humor. She laughs, apologizes, but waits for my answer.
“What do you think?” I smile from ear to ear.
“You got the job!”
“I got the jobanda credit card!”
“No fucking way! Your daddy cuts you off and you still manage to get an older man to pay for your shit.”
“One, I haven’t saiddaddysince I was like seven. Two, it’s only for work things.”
“Well, now coping with your stressed ass is going to be a work expense charged tothisdaddy.”
“You’re crazy. He’s not my ‘daddy’—he’s my boss.Because I got the job!”
We squeal and bounce before she decides we have to go out. It’s Friday night and we deserve some kind of celebration now that we won’t be planning out what bills can be paid late next month. Camille took a chance by agreeing to live with me and now that risk is paying off.
We end up at a local bar, giggling and downing drinks that neither of us are paying for, thanks to Camille’s knockout dress and five-inch heels. Camille shoos guys away left and right. She’s gorgeous with rich, dark skin, a lithe body, and a red-lipped smile that would turn any gentleman to sin. Some girls are a snack, but Camille is a feast. Guys will do what it takes to get just one second of her attention, including buying usbothdrinks. Not that they get more than a raised drink in response. I love that she refuses to flirt when we celebrate or go out together.
Sometimes it stings that she gets so much attention, whereas I get maybe a glance before they look away. I know I’m not exactly the dream girl. I’m a little chubby and full figured. I don’t really know how to deal with blind dates. I’m not really all torn up about it—I’m not that interested in sex anyway. Well, no, I’m actually quite interested in sex, it’s just that it’s never been that satisfying for me. Planning for disappointment makes it easier to enjoy guys ignoring me, but when Camille has so many offers, a girl can’t help but feel a bit jealous. Not that sheeverlets me wallow in my own pity.
“Uh, no.” She points at me. “No pouting tonight.”
“I know you just told me, but my face doesn’t care.” I giggle, swallowing another shot. “I can indulge my masochistic side a little.”
“Ten-point word, but no. We’re celebrating tonight.”
“And it’s not like I would do anything with random dude’s anyway. I’d much rather go home with you.” I kiss her cheek and sling an arm over her shoulders.
“You just need aman. Not some fuckboy toy who wants to get off. A man will make sure you come first and often.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” I roll my eyes at her.
She’s so sure that I’ll enjoy sex with the right person, but I’m less convinced. Once upon a time, I was eager for it, then it happened and no fireworks. It was like a misfire—disappointing and sobering. I love Camille’s optimism though. It means we balance out well for each other.
Looking over the bar, at the potential options for Camille, I notice a table of three older guys who don’t belong. They’re wearing slacks and nice sharply pressed dress shirts. They stand out looking so formal. Then I notice James—my new boss, James—sitting with them and drinking liquid gold from a glass.
What are the fucking odds? Fate can’t be this much of a dick.
“We should go,” I choke out.
“What, why?”