Page 216 of Unexpected Ever After

He hangs up and I sit back down for a minute to look over my design. It leads me to wonder if Leah is working on hers. I close my eyes for a minute and imagine her leaning over as she concentrates. I’ve seen it plenty of times and even when she isn’t trying to look sexy, she does. The way her shirt hangs, and her tits are almost clearly in view. It’s a tease that makes me want to rip off what she’s wearing to get a better view.

She’s constantly sucking on her plump bottom lip as she looks over her work. It makes me want to bite it and suck it into my mouth.

I imagine the way her perfect round ass stands out as she bends over the drafting table, making me want to grab on and sink my fingers into the soft skin.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

My dick is rock hard just thinking of her. So like the many times before I free my cock and wrap my hand around it. I stand up and lean my free hand against the wall and picture my enemy as I begin to slide my hand up and down. Her bright brown eyes piercing into mine. My hands wrapped in her silky black hair as I bend her over the drafting table and slam into her wet, greedy pussy.

I tighten my grip on my dick, just like I believe her pussy would squeeze me. My hips begin to move slowly as my hand moves fast. “Fuck, princess,” I groan, fisting my cock harder.

I stroke myself hard and fast, just how I’d fuck her.

My hand on the wall tightens into a fist as I feel myself beginning to shake. I fuck my hand in a desperate need for release and when I find it, I can’t help but say her damn name.

I rest my head against the wall, my dick still free as I close my eyes.

“Fuck,” I groan.

This is going to be harder than I thought, and I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to control myself.

I step out of the shower and quickly dry off, wrapping the towel around my waist. I need to be at Leah’s in a half hour. I ended up getting drunk last night after I jerked off thinking of her. So I spent a little too long in bed today. After some food, ibuprofen, and a shower I’m feeling great.

After I finish in the bathroom, I walk to my bedroom. This apartment is as edgy and industrial as my shop. Exposed bricks and ductwork, concrete floors, and huge windows. I lucked out with this deal because I rent it from an old couple who have rent control. This apartment would never be in my budget without that. It’s big for New York standards with two bedrooms. If it wasn’t for that I would need roommates and I like time to myself.

After I get ready, I grab my design and head out.

Once I get to her shop, I notice the closed sign but try the door anyway. I smirk when it pulls open. She just wanted to prove a point that the closed sign works.

“Hey,” I shout, as the door closes behind me.

“Be right out,” she calls.

I take a second to look around and really check her place out. I dig on her for it but it’s got a cool fifties vibe going. The bright walls and teal blue couch are cool. Her artwork hangs around and it is colorful. I don’t like color, but there’s one of a pinup model that draws my attention. I move closer and I’ll give her credit it’s badass. The lines are perfect, the colors are bright but bring out her facial features and her body is sexy.

Leah is a damn good artist. It’s a fucking shame she gets under my skin because we probably could make some kickass work together.

“I just needed to finish a phone call,” she says, walking out.

I turn and my stupid dick notices how damn good she looks. It pisses me off and I turn my annoyance with myself toward her. “Let’s just do this, I’m wasting time.”

“Glad to see you’re in a good mood again,” she says, grabbing her sketch pad. “We can sit out here or go to the room in the back. The lighting is great in there too.”

I sigh and nod toward the back. “Let’s check out this room.”

Big mistake following her because the dress she is wearing is hugging her ass and with each step she takes it’s getting harder to pull my gaze away.

She opens a door and I’m shocked at how big it is. It’s bigger than my office and has that same bright fifties feel.

“You really like the fifties,” I say, looking around.

The desk she has is clearly from the fifties or a great replica and the mustard yellow chair with chrome accents is pretty cool. She has only one photo on the wall and it’s her with her friends, each of them looking like they stepped out of the fifties.

“I was born in the wrong era,” she says.

She pulls out the drafting table from against the wall and she puts her design on it. I put mine beside hers and we both just stare. They couldn’t be more different. The bird position is different, the wings are different, even the eyes are different. Not to mention she has the feathers, beak, and feet colored.

“Yours looks too friendly,” I say, shaking my head.

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