Page 41 of Sexting the Boss

No.

It’s Damien.

I don’t mean to imagine him, but the second I let my mind drift, he’s there.

The way he looked in the dim parking garage lighting, his tall, commanding presence, the way his dark silver hair framed his face, the way his jaw looked sharp enough to cut through wood. Jesus, that man is a walking Adonis.

The way he held me still, like I was something that needed to be kept in place.

Unknown Number: Touch yourself for me.

I exhale slowly

This is so wrong.

I should be picturing the man I’m actually texting.

I shouldn’t be imagining my boss like this. But there he is—Damien Zaitsev—standing at the edge of my bed, unbuttoning his tailored shirt, his silver-streaked hair messy from where I’ve gripped it, his eyes dark and hungry as he watches me spread my legs wider.

Me: Yes.

Unknown Number: Good girl. Are your tits bare for me?

My breath catches, heat rolling through me as I slip my top off, my nipples tight and aching against the cool air. I imagine Damien’s rough hands cupping them, his thumbs brushing over my peaks, his mouth teasing, biting. I exhale sharply, one hand sliding over my breast, tugging at my nipple before going back to my phone, my other hand moving lower.

Me: They are now. I want your mouth on them.

Unknown Number: Fuck, I’d have you arching under me. Sucking them into my mouth, rolling my tongue over those pretty peaks until you’re whimpering.

I squeeze my thighs together, my pussy already dripping at the thought.

I picture him dragging his tongue down my stomach, his strong hands spreading me open, his breath hot against my soaking folds.

My fingers slip lower, slick and needy, teasing over my clit.

Me: I’m so wet for you.

Unknown Number: Good. You’d take my cock so well, wouldn’t you?

I whimper, my hand working faster, my back arching as my body begs for more.

Me: Yes. I want to feel you stretching me, fucking me deep. Make me yours.

Unknown Number: I’d bury myself in you so slow at first. Feel every inch of your tight, needy pussy taking me in. Then I’d fuck you the way you deserve—deep, rough, hard. Make you cry my name.

I let out a shaky moan, my fingers thrusting into myself, imagining his thick cock splitting me open, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. I can almost hear his groan, almost feel the way he’d grip my hips and pull me onto him, forcing me to take every inch. I rub my clit faster, my legs trembling, the pleasure spiraling higher and higher.

Me: Please, fuck me harder. I need it.

Unknown Number: You’re mine, printsessa. Come for me. Let me feel you squeezing my cock.

That’s all it takes.

I shatter, my body jerking, pleasure crashing through me in hot, blinding waves.

My breath is ragged, my fingers still stroking, drawing out every last tremor of release.

I lie there, completely spent, my body a useless heap of pleasure.

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