Page 18 of A Man of Power

Looking down at the time on my screen, I see it’s late, really late. It’s almost two in the morning. I’ve gotta stop this working-all-night thing.

Sighing, I take another sip of coffee and decide to check out the ads that Nolan had mentioned. I click on the first one. It’s a typical do-gooder ad. Sebastian is volunteering somewhere, kissing babies, you know the drill. The next one is similar. The third one though has me pausing the screen. He’s just come out of a lake where he is clearly participating in some kind of race, maybe a triathlon?

There’s a fraction of a second where his wet clothing clings to his lower half and I can make out an outline of his dick. I hit pause and rewind the video, sure that I’m seeing things, but there it is again. I pause it and stare at the monstrosity that I’ve heard so much about but haven’t seen in the flesh. Holy founding fathers! It’s like he was sculpted just for women.

I hit play again as he runs past the camera. Then there’s a shot of him crossing the finish line. I decide to search the event. I pull up another screen and search his name and the race. The images begin to pop up, and by the third row, I freeze, my hand hovering over the toggle on my mouse. Holy shit! He’s unzipped the top half of his triathlon outfit and it hangs down around his hips. I still can’t make out the tattoo on his arm from this angle, but his body is insane. His chest looks like he bench-presses daily but it’s his abdominal muscles that make me salivate. How can he look that good?

I click on the photo, and it takes me to a paparazzi site. Well, that explains everything. The next photo is of him and his father at their beach house. Both of them are shirtless, and clearly the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because even at sixty years old, his father looks amazing. Hell, even his grandfather who is in his eighties looks good. These men are unreal.

I toggle back to the video and play the water scene again. I feel an ache between my legs, and I clench them and look around. It’s nearly two thirty now, there is no one here.

I haven’t even had time to masturbate, let alone go on a date. My lady parts are probably sealing over from cobweb growth.

I spread my legs, glad that I wore a skirt, but annoyed it’s tight. I push it up to my hips and slide my underwear to the side before pushing a finger inside myself. Sighing as I watch his perfect cock strain against the quick-dry fabric of his outfit, I add a second finger. I close my eyes and envision what it would feel like to have him doing this to me as I pump my fingers faster. Fantasies of him taking me right on his desk play in my mind and I feel myself getting closer to release. What would it feel like to be shoved face down on his desk while one of his hands reaches down and grabs the back of my neck, holding me in place, while he unzips his pants and pushes my skirt up to reveal my ass? How good would it be when he rips off my panties and kicks my legs apart so that he can run his cock along my wetness? And how off the charts would my orgasm be when he slams into me from behind while squeezing my neck harder than he did when he urged me into the car after the meeting.

On that last thought, I climax, a small groan escaping my lips as my body trembles. I’m left lax and panting in my chair as I slowly pull my fingers out and grab a tissue from my desk.

Straightening my skirt as I pull it back down, I look around again. The blush spreading across my face feels like fire. The zoomed-in image of Sebastian’s cock straining against the nylon fabric on my screen might as well be a flame. I am so very fucked. I can’t have him. I need to stop this. I’m acting like a crazy person.

I take a long drink of water and finish my work before calling for a car to take me home. I need to get out of this office for a few hours. I need to stop thinking about my boss like this. But can I?

Chapter9

Sebastian

My phone lights upwith a text as I walk into my kitchen. The mail is on the island as it is every day. I flip through it, my mind numb to the routine as I replay the events of the day. Fucking Leonard. I hate the bastard.

I probably shouldn’t have overacted, but damn it if Alexis doesn’t do something to me. I war with myself about making a phone call and ending his career.

Sighing, I glance down to see I have texts from Jay, my new campaign manager, and Conner.

I answer a question for Jay and then read Conner’s text.

Conner: Drinking. Come over.

I glance toward the front hall of my home and out the windows flanking either side of my door. I can see lights on, through the trees. Fuck it. I need a drink anyhow.

I loosen my tie, pulling it off and leaving it next to my unopened mail. The night air is unseasonably chilly. The sky is clear. The evening is reminiscent of so many from my past. I suppress the memories as I walk through the trail we had built between our properties. I open the side porch door and walk into Conner’s massive kitchen. He’s sitting on a barstool, scrolling through his phone. I can tell he’s swiping right on a dating app by the repetitive motion of his thumb. His other hand holds a glass of amber liquid.

“Anyone good?” I inquire as I walk over to his bar and help myself to his top-shelf bourbon.

He shrugs. “No one worth dating, but definitely a few that seem fuckable.”

For as much as I’m described as the alpha playboy, and yes, I know what the women say about me, Conner is even more alpha, more playboy, and way more arrogant. If I exude power, he bleeds it. And I’m man enough to admit that.

If Conner had paid any attention in our psych class, he might have learned that his behaviors are a direct result of his fucked-up childhood. His life reads like a bad movie, a mother who was tragically killed and a tyrant father who neglected him on his best days. It’s amazing he’s as normal as he is.

He sets his phone down and stares at me. “What about you?”

I contemplate my answer as I take a sip of my drink. I’m always calculating what to say, even to my closest friends. It’s all part of being a North.

Conner leans back in his swivel chair. “Oh, this is going to be good.” His lips twitch into a smirk. I scowl at him.

“Fuck off,” I mutter while taking another sip.

“It’s that hot piece of ass you hired. Isn’t it?”

Damn, he’s good. Conner is like a bloodhound. He can smell a possible lay through all the pretentious bullshit.

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