Page 59 of Twisted (Never After)
It doesn’t work, and instead of being able to move on with my day and clear her from my brain, I let her take over entirely. Closing my eyes, my palm rubs against my now painfully hard erection, imagining her beneath my desk, her soft hand being the one to tease me.
Would she beg for my cock? Choke on it?
Groaning, I unzip my slacks and pull out my throbbing dick. Gripping it at the base, I slowly roll my hand up the shaft, my heart racing and my stomach tensing from how good it feels.
I imagine Yasmin’s pouty lips slipping over the head, her tongue flicking the slit on my tip and those perfect dark eyes staring up at me as she sucks me down.
My hand moves quickly, fingers tingling from how badly I wish I could grab fistfuls of her hair and slide into her mouth instead of the poor substitution of my palm.
Would she take me all the way down? Let me glide along her tongue and slip into the back of her throat?
My balls tense, heat collecting at the base of my spine, and I stroke faster, my hips thrusting up into my hand, wishing like hell that I could feel the wetness of her mouth and hear her gagging on my cock, the sparkle of her ring, proving to the world that she’smine, glinting in the lighting as she works the base of my dick in tandem with the strokes of her lips.
That last visual does it, and I grab a handkerchief just in time to catch the heavy spurts of cum that release into the rag, my vision dotting with stars.
Goddamn.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve come so hard.
Blowing out a breath, I tuck myself back into my slacks, tossing the handkerchief into the bin beneath my desk, and reach up to tug at the roots of my hair.
Shaking off the momentary weakness, I refocus my thoughts on what’s important, which is figuring out what the hell Ali is up to.
Yasmin should go with me to see him. It’s the perfect opportunity for her to step up and show Ali that we’re happier than ever. Picking up the phone one more time, I call her. She forwards to voicemail again. I press redial and finally she picks up.
“What?” She sounds angry.
“Get ready to go. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, and I want you on the front steps waiting.”
She sighs. “Where are we going?”
“To see your father.”
I hang up, knowing that she won’t pass up the opportunity, and walk out of my office, stopping briefly to look at Ciara as she types away on her computer. She looks frazzled, and if I had to guess, I would assume it’s from the extra workload she’s taken on ever since I’ve put Ian on the side mission of keeping the boy occupied. Ian didn’t hire Ciara to be an assistant, but she’s doing a surprisingly good job, and although I haven’t mentioned anything, I plan to give her a raise when he returns.
She glances up at me from her computer.
“Reschedule my meeting with the PR department today. Something’s come up.”
She nods, her lips thin and her eyes downcast.
It takes forty minutes to get back to my house after sitting in traffic, and when I pull up around the circle drive, Yasmin is sitting on the front steps of the house, wearing black sweats that cinch around her ankles and a white hoodie, leaning back on her elbows.
The Audi R8 purrs as I stop in front of her.
“You’re late,” she complains as she slips into the passenger seat.
I sit and stare at her, one of my hands on the wheel of the car and the other resting on my thigh, my gaze involuntarily drinking her up like water in a desert. There’s something about seeing her dressed down like this, like she just woke up from a nap and has nobody to impress, that has my chest tightening and my dick twitching.
“What?” she asks, her brows lifting to her hairline.
I’m thankful for the sunglasses that hide my gaze from her view. I don’t need her knowing how much she affects me. Not until I figure out how to make the feeling go away. I would giveanythingto go back to before I spied on her and the boy in that room, because before that night, she was always just Ali’s spoiled daughter. Too young and too annoying to even be on my radar. Now…
Things would be much easier for me if I wasn’t suddenly attracted to her.
I put the car in park, leaning over the middle console, the side of my arm brushing against her chest. She sucks in a breath, slamming herself against the back of her seat. My face is almost directly in front of hers now, and the scent of vanilla overwhelms my senses as I reach around her.
“Wh- what are you doing?” she rasps.
