Page 17 of Be-Leaf in Love

“So beautiful.” Jack shifts so that instead of his thumb, it’s his middle finger against my clit, cupping my mound as he plunges in and out, chasing the moment with me.

Time stops and then races as his mouth overtakes mine again. “I can feel you,” he growls against my lips. “Feel your hot little pussy squeezing me. Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. All around me.”

My hand clenches his shoulder, the other one reaching for his firm ass to squeeze. My head tips back as a wild cry escapes me. Then I’m coming so hard the world turns to orange light and static as I bliss out completely.

“That’s it, baby. Damn, you’re so beautiful right now.”

It feels like his thick cock is swelling even bigger as he pounds deeper, faster, then I feel him coming too…followed by a deep satisfaction when I’m filled with warm spurts of his release.

Jack gazes into my eyes, both of us completely blank, yet completely connected. Then his forehead falls to my shoulder. “Wow,” we both breathe together.

I let go of his shoulder, hoping I haven’t left fingernail marks. His chin lifts, looking over to assess the damage. “I’ll wear your marks with pride, baby.”

That’s a lot saucier than I would have expected from him. Which, like everything else, I completely adore.

12

JACK

Some people dread Mondays. I’ve always been neutral on them. On the weekends, I don’t know what to do with myself, other than golf with business associates. At the office, I have a list of work as long as my arm, either to delegate or attend to myself. There’s always more research, more information to cram into my brain, so I can make better judgement calls.

Now none of that feels nearly as important as driving Violet to work and making plans to see her after she’s done.

The entire day flies by, since I need to get enough work done that I can leave early to get to Violet.

I should’ve known not make exact plans, since a series of calls leading up to five o’clock has been scheduled. Luckily, my precious girl knows that work comes first.

Hey, gorgeous. Sorry, I’m running late. Hoping to be done by six.

Violet: No problem. I have another plant station ready. Can we deliver it around 5:30? Then I can hang out at reception and sketch.

Sounds good. Thank you, lovely flower girl.

I normally pace when I’m on the phone. At five-forty, I pace a bit further, out of my office and down the hall to see Violet chatting brightly with a few employees.

She really does bring life to the place. Even though I’m concentrating on the droning in my ear about financial forecasts, I’m also eavesdropping a little. Violet is explaining to two women that overwatering is the number one killer of houseplants and showing them how to check the soil and keep the roots healthy. Apparently too much water in the soil for a long time means the roots can’t absorb oxygen properly. They essentially drown. Who knew.

“Having wet feet for days would put you in a bad mood, right?” Violet laughs. “Plants are just the same.”

The new plant station looks amazing. Three small round black tables hold large gray speckled pots. One has trailing leaves that drape over the edges. Another is quite chunky and fluffy. The third looks like a tall feather tree. The different textures and shades of green work together perfectly to create a charming natural spot, right here in a boring office setting.

Violet sees me and gives a small wave. I wave back, beaming. There’s no sense in hiding my feelings for her. My entire company is going to find out soon enough. I’m already imagining my sweet girl excitedly choosing the flowers for our wedding.

I turn to walk back to my office, then come toe to toe with the one man in the area who is not smiling at Violet.

“I’m sorry everyone, we’ll have to continue this tomorrow.” I abruptly end my call and pull off my headset, then stare at a stockier, angrier, meaner version of myself. “Dad. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

His face holds no expression, but his eyes dart to his left. Violet is wearing a peach-colored floral dress and pointing to the tallest tree while explaining something to the now four people crowded around.

“Heard you’ve been running around with some hippie chick.” His booming voice echoes through the space like a gunshot, causing every head to snap toward us. “That her? You must’ve lost your fucking mind. How do you think that looks to clients?”

Grabbing him roughly by the arm, I march him down the hallway and practically fling him into my office. His frame might be wider than mine, but I am pure muscle and I’ve got three inches on him. Dad staggers against the door and looks up at me, shocked. “What the hell was that for?”

“You will watch how you speak about her.” I’m so furious that my eyeballs feel tense. My hands clench into fists. I might possibly use them. “Better yet, do not speak about her.”

He laughs loudly, right in my face. “Whatever. I guess I should have taught you to be discreet when you have the few inevitable affairs with flaky chicks. Should have explained how to pick a proper woman, too – someone old enough for you, for a start.”

“Close the door.”

---