Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I’d grab her arms and pull her close to me, press my lips against hers fiercely, pushing forward with my hips, driving my rock-hard desire against her belly so she could feel it.
So her core could feel it and get ready for the seed I’m going to pump inside of her.
I return to the desk, warning myself to calm down.
But I can’t stop imagining my hands sliding over her tits. In the fantasy, they’re covered in oil, slick and massive, begging to be played with. I imagine pushing them together, sucking one needy nipple, then another.
I type the text with an effort.
I’m extremely impressed, Danielle. Your company is lucky to have you. I’d like to offer you the contract for my restaurant. I still have some preparations, but the opening is in a month, so I’ll be keen to see what interest we can drum up in the meantime.
Staring down at the text, I debate for far too long, feeling like a silly kid again. Only she could do this to me over a kiss.
It looks so cold, my text, without the kiss at the end.
That’s good. I should be cold toward her, or at least professionally distant, but I can’t.
Adding the kiss, X, I click send.
Read appears right away, then she starts typing.
I return to the window, looking out upon the setting sun, resisting the urge to reach down and grab onto my engorged manhood. My helm is bulging with all the seed, with the downright necessity of being inside of her.
My phone buzzes.
Thank you so much, Damien. I’m thrilled. Does that mean I can inform my boss tomorrow?
Yes, definitely. Well done.
Thank you. X
As I leave the office, I toss my phone from hand to hand as I walk into the kitchen. Everything is clean and shiny as it should be, but I’m looking forward to adding some character to the place. Some knife marks on the new chopping board, and the smell of spices to make the room inviting.
I’ve been so concerned with the restaurant – with Danielle – I haven’t cooked anything complicated in this kitchen.
Placing my phone on the counter, I see that she’s writing another message. My fists clench merely from the tension of watching, which makes me feel like a jackass.
I’m goddamn starving for contact with her.
But I can’t forget how I felt when Max showed up at the restaurant, right around when we talked about whether or not I had a girlfriend.
The three dots disappear.
A moment later, they’re back.
Then they’re gone again.
Dots, no dots, dots, no dots, dots, no dots.
It repeats over and over, leaving me to wonder what she’s typing out. Perhaps it’s that she feels the same, wants to start a life together, wants to truly be together.
Support each other. Look out for each other.
Start a family together.
But then the dots vanish and stay gone. I clench my teeth, my mind spiraling to frankly ridiculous and impossible places. I can’t stop thinking about her lying in bed, hopefully in nothing else but a tank top and her underwear, no bra, letting her breasts flash glimpses at me.
Only me.
The thought of any other man seeing her like that makes me want to hurt him, this hypothetical innocent person. It makes me want to defend Danielle from a threat that only exists in my mind.
What are your plans for the rest of the evening?
I can’t resist sending the message, refusing to leave it there, though I should.
Nothing much, she replies. Just going to try and do some reading in bed.
Try?
I guess I’ve been a little distracted lately. Not because of the marketing stuff. I loved doing that.
It’s like I can read the anxiety into her words. I imagine wrapping my arms around her, pulling her as gently into my arms as I can. At the same time, another image slams into me.
Max stands over me in the schoolyard, his blood-flecked hand extended toward me.
His hand was bloody because he’d just stood up for me against one of the older kids. This was before we started going to the gym and before I grew to twice the bully’s size.
Don’t worry, I text back, pushing all that away. I can tell you put your all into the work. What’s bothering you, then? If you don’t mind a grumpy old man asking haha.
I wonder if it’s a texting sin, writing haha when I’m not even close to laughter.
I can feel the grimace on my face, the tightness as I think about something or somebody causing my Danielle problems.
Nothing, and you’re NOT an old man.
Nothing? If it’s bothering you to the point where you can’t focus on your book, it must be bad.
It’s not a big deal. Basically, there’s this person at work. I want to tell them that something they’re doing is bothering me…but the thing is, they’re best friends with my boss. I know my boss will freak out if I do anything to threaten that friendship.