Page 31 of Cannon
Chapter 11
Queen
I arrived home early in the morning
The sheets were cool against my skin, the ceiling fan spun slow above me, but it did nothing to calm the fire pulsing between my thighs. I couldn’t get Cannon off of my mind.
This was dangerous. I had far too much at stake. I had to appease Smoke. I had to help my daughter. I was still managing my crazy-ass mother. There was so much I had to handle but all I wanted was for Cannon to handle me.
I rolled over in bed, restless, skin burning like I’d caught a fever. My hand slid across my stomach, fingertips tracing the edge of my panties. This was stupid. Reckless. But my body wasn’t listening to logic anymore.
I reached into my nightstand drawer, fingers fumbling past old receipts and half-empty bottles of melatonin until I found it. My rose toy, still in its velvet pouch like some forgotten relic. I hadn’t touched this thing in over a year. Hadn’t needed to. Hadn’t wanted to.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, Cannon had walked into my office and rearranged my whole damn chemistry.
I pressed the button and it hummed to life, the sound making me bite my lip. Five years. Five fucking years since I’d let a man touch me. Since Javi. And here I was, wet and desperate over my new head of security like some thirsty-ass teenager.
I slipped my panties down, kicked them off somewhere into the darkness. The cool air hit my pussy and I shivered, already sensitive. Already aching.
I closed my eyes and let myself imagine it.
Cannon, pushing me back against my office desk. Those icy blue-green eyes locked on mine, reading me like he’d been studying my body language his whole life. His tattooed hands gripping my thighs, spreading them wide. That deep voice, smooth as aged whiskey, telling me exactly what he was about to do to me.
“You been needin’ this,” he’d say, and I’d nod because lying would be pointless. He’d see right through me anyway.
I pressed the toy against my clit and gasped, hips bucking. The vibration sent shockwaves through me, intense after so long without. In my mind, it was his tongue, slow and deliberate, tasting me like I was something expensive.
My free hand found my breast, caressing my nipple through my silk nightgown. I imagined his mouth there instead, sucking and biting just hard enough to leave marks. Marking me as his. The thought made me moan into my pillow.
“Fuck,” I whispered, circling the toy around my swollen clit.
In my fantasy, he’d flip me over, bend me across that desk I’d worked so hard to earn. His hand would run through my hair, pulling just enough to make my back arch. He’d slide inside me slow at first, letting me feel every thick inch, making me beg for more.
But Cannon wouldn’t be the type to give in easy. He’d make me work for it. Make me say please like he did earlier, that smirk playing at his lips while he tortured me with shallow strokes.
“You forgot a word,” he’d tease, and I’d curse him out until he finally gave me what I needed.
In my mind, his hands were everywhere. Squeezing my ass, wrapping around my throat, pulling me back against his chest while he pounded into me. Those muscles flexing with each thrust, tattoos glistening with sweat.
“This what you wanted?” he’d growl in my ear. “This why you been starin’ at me all day?”
“Yes,” I moaned into the darkness of my bedroom. “Fuck, yes.”
I was close, so close. My thighs trembled, toes curling into the sheets. I imagined him sensing it, knowing exactly when to reach around and rub my clit with those skilled fingers.
“Come for me, Queen,” he’d command. Not asking. Telling.
And I would. God help me, I would.
The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste copper, body convulsing as pleasure ripped through me. Wave after wave, until I was gasping and trembling and completely undone.
I lay there afterwards, chest heaving, toy still buzzing between my legs until I finally turned it off. The silence felt loud. Reality crept back in like an unwelcome guest.
What the fuck had I just done?
I’d crossed a line in my mind that I couldn’t uncross. Tomorrow, I’d have to look at him and pretend I hadn’t just fucked myself to the thought of him bending me over my own desk.
