Page 25 of Tempting Frey
I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped my hand around my dick for the umpteenth time tonight.
I didn’t even try to control my fantasies. There was no point. Oliver starred in all of them, wearing lace panties that covered nothing of importance and taunting me over his shoulder with his ass pushed out.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“I’ll fucking spank you and then I’ll breed you.”
He groans, curving his spine and showing me his hole. It’s pale and so tiny; there’s no way my dick will fit.
“Put your cock in me, Frey. Please.”
I let my palm fall on his ass cheeks, and they bloom pink just for me. Then I thrust into him to the hilt, stretching that little opening, and Oliver’s cry bounces off the walls of my office.
Between whimpers and moans, he whispers promises of love and devotion.
“I’ve been in love with you forever, Frey. I’ll go into heat for you. I want you to breed me.”
I jerked off like mad until my dick chafed.
Maybe I could purge him from my mind if I did it a few more times? Except my obsession with Oliver was only getting worse.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of him.
Not knowing what to do with myself, I was at the office before eight.
I scrolled through the document Oliver had sent me, rereading the part about economic development.
What if he was right? What if I had stifled the town’s growth by turning the developers away?
Tourist facilities in tune with the town’s current atmosphere and with limited capacity would create job opportunities and strengthen the existing businesses.
Low-impact and low-cost tourist activities to be promoted: hiking and wildlife watching, fly-fishing, canoeing, cross-country skiing, etc.
Low-impact and high-cost: retreats, wellness, guided expeditions, team building, rafting, paragliding, dog sled.
Paragliding? Where did he come up with that? I’d seen crazy people flying around Green Peaks, sure, but never in Beauville. And dogs? Who would pay for dog sled rides?
Hiking trails maintenance: explore grant opportunities with the Economic Development Administration.
As I read the numerous bullet points of Oliver’s so-called strategy, what bugged me the most was the number of times I told myselfI should have thought of this. Because he’d surely thought of everything. Literally everything that could be done was in there, at least in the form of a small note.
Education: explore the financing solutions for a library and a learning center for high school students—aim at a hybrid solution, combining virtual high school with local supervision and tutoring.
Oliver was brilliant, and chances were, he was right about those fucking developers as well. We would have to work with them, whether we wanted to or not. The county would throw us under the bus, no doubt about it. Our only chance was to convince the new landowners to do stuff in a way that would preserve the uniqueness of Beauville.
I heard steps in the corridor just before nine, so I poked my head out. I caught a glimpse of Oliver as he walked into Hughes’s old office, now Oliver’s own.
“Oliver.”
He backed out. “Yes?”
“Erm. Good morning.”
Just jeans, white sneakers, and a light summer jacket. His hair, gleaming gold and copper, was a mess, and he looked flushed. Lord, but he was a sight for sore eyes. As if the sun itself had walked into the town hall.
He gave me an unsure smile. “Good morning,” he said slowly, eyeing me up and down.
What was I…? “Can we talk?”
