Page 54 of Dirty Little Secrets
I step out of the shower as my phone chimes. I quickly dry off and head to my room. My gaze snaps to the hallway.
I freeze.
Bare feet pad softly across the hardwood floor. Her silhouette appears in the dim light. Her top hangs just beneath her breasts. Her skirt is so short, the soft triangle of her black panties peeks through with every step. Her hair is wild. Her skin flushed from sleep. She looks like a dream walking straight into a nightmare.
Intome.
She stops. Her gaze drops and that’s when I realize I’m still naked. My cock, hard and heavy, stands like it’s saluting her. I wrap my hand around it. Stroke once. A wave of pleasure shoots straight to my balls.
She doesn’t run like I expected her to, instead she steps closer but leaves enough distance that she can quickly retreat back into the room.
We stare. Like that day in my office, when she unbuttoned her blouse and let me see what I shouldn’t have. I tried to tell myself it was to make sure she was okay. I don’t stop. I pump harder, and her pupils dilate like she’s watching a performance made just for her.
No words. Just breath and tension. Eyes and hands doing all the talking.
She could tell me to stop. She could turn around, shut the door, call me a pig.
She doesn’t.
She watches.
And I drink her in, the curve of her waist, the way her nipples strain beneath her top. She’s not too skinny. Not too soft. Just right. Her breasts are a perfect handful. Her skin, sun-kissed and begging to be tasted. If I were a better man, I’d want more than just sex.
But I’m not.
If I wanted more, I’d live in purgatory. Constantly looking over my shoulder. She doesn’t belong in this world, the cartel, the blood, the enemies that would use her to get to me. Women like Nori want families. A life. And I can’t give her that.
“See something you like, princessa?” I ask, stroking faster.
She stares, then reaches behind her and unhooks her top. It falls. And I nearly fucking lose it.
Her nipples are pierced. Little silver spikes shining through rose-pink skin. A glimpse into haw naughty she is under the pencil skirt she wears that drive me nuts.
“Is this what you want?” she asks.
I can’t answer. Because the answer would destroy her.
This can’t happen. Not with her. If it does, it won't be once. It’ll be the beginning of the end. And I won’t be the reason she burns. I won’t be the reason that her life is at risk.
“You know that’s not possible.”
She cups her breasts, plays with the piercings. My strokes grow faster, my grip tighter. I imagine her mouth, her thighs, the wet heat of her pussy taking every inch of me.
She watches my hand like it’s a sacred act.
“Why?” she whispers.
“Because I can’t.”
The words slice through the room. She turns away. Covers herself. Shame or rejection, I can’t tell. Probably both. Regret? Maybe.
“If I wasn’t your employee,” she says, “would you?”
She means:Would you fuck me if we met under different terms?
Truth is, if she didn’t work for me, I’d never know she existed. Our worlds don’t align. She’s that last woman I would go for. Not because I don’t find her attractive but because she’s the kind you don’t fuck and forget.
“It would never happen,” I say honestly.
