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My clothes were uncomfortable on my hot body, so, as it happened in dreams, they instantly disappeared. I kept my mouth on him, sucking and stroking him. I loved the soft feel of his cock’s skin as I ran my lips over it.
“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m going to come,” he said the words he’d said that night while he took me on the couch.
I whimpered because I wanted him to come in my pussy which was burning hot and throbbed with need. In the next scene, his dick was in me, stroking hard and fast, and I came so hard it woke me up.
God, did I just have an orgasm in my sleep? I lay in bed embarrassed, even though I was alone and no one would know I just had the female equivalent of a wet dream. I realized that my will wouldn’t be strong enough for me to move on from Blake. But I couldn’t abandon my plans to try.
I was certain that there was nothing I could do to change Blake’s mind about giving me a chance. His body might want me, but his mind was steadfast that Joanna was his one and only, even in death. I couldn’t compete with that. And I supposed it would be cruel to try. He was clearly tormented after he fucked me. I hated that he felt like he’d betrayed his wife. And I felt sorry that he was committed to a long lonely life without love from any other woman. I hoped that someday, perhaps with more time, that his resolve would change. But I wasn’t the woman who would bring about that change, and it would be foolhardy for me to try.
The next day when I arrived at work, Blake was already there, holed up in his office. Since our encounter last week, he was arriving early and leaving late, making me wonder if he was trying to avoid me. That was probably just as well. Perhaps if I didn’t see him as much, my feelings for him would diminish.
I buried myself in the multitude of tasks that needed to be done, and instead of taking materials to him, I did as he did and used his secretary as a courier. It felt silly and a little immature, but I also didn’t want to see him and have all those yearnings for him surface again.
God, how I wished my mom was here to help me through this. What would she tell me? What remedies would she have to help me get him out of my system?
Missing my own mother made me think of Lily and I had to be grateful I had my mother for as long as I did. I knew Blake was a good dad, but sometimes girls needed their mothers. I supposed her grandmother could fill that role. I could do it if only he’d give me a chance. I did a mental facepalm. Stop wishing for a chance, you nitwit.
I took out the France project. If things all went to plan, we’d be ready to ship products in the next six weeks or so. This was another reminder of Blake’s wife’s hold on him. The goal to export JoXander Cosmetics to France was her dream, as was the natural, organic line that Danica Lane would be endorsing. Nearly everything he did at the company, I suspected, was with the thought of what his wife would have wanted. If she were alive, she wouldn’t want him sleeping with his assistant, so it made sense that what we’d done bothered him.
She wasn’t alive, and yet he continued to live for her. It was sweet and sad and maddening at the same time.
Shaking my head to clear thoughts of my personal torment, I turned my attention back to the Paris deal. Blake talked about going to Paris, but instead, a few representatives would come here. I went through the list of things I’d need ready for that presentation, and hopefully, the contract signing.
I left the building for lunch and found a little café. When I’d been in my office, I was surrounded by my work, which by extension included Blake. In the café, I was alone and away from all of that, which gave me a little bit of peace. It made me wonder if I should look for a new job. It was still early in my forget-about-Blake endeavor, but it would be harder to move on seeing him every day than it would be if I didn’t see him at all. He’d have to stop appearing in my dreams, but if I didn’t see him daily, hopefully that would decrease as well. At least that was what made sense to me.
The problem was that I really enjoyed my job. Yes, I lusted after my boss, but the job itself was exciting. Blake gave me a lot of leeway to do my work. I felt like he trusted and respected me, which wasn’t easy to find in the business world for a twenty-three-year-old woman. Would it be better to lust after my boss but feel valued, or to work in a place where I wasn’t respected but didn’t care for my boss? Another wave of sadness spread over me that my mother wasn’t here to help me with this.
