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She’s a fucking distraction.
And I don’t need more distractions to deal with.
I growl a surly greeting at Sherri as I pass her desk. She doesn’t deserve it—or maybe she does. Maybe I should be keeping a closer eye on the interactions Sophia is having around the office. I should know whether she’s making friends or enemies, shouldn’t I?
I snort softly to myself.
That’s an excuse, and I know it. I just want to watch her. I want to steal her attention mid-word and watch her struggle to pick up her thought where it left off. I want her laughter, her gasps, her shock, her anger.
I want it all, every reaction, all the time.
Which is exactly why she needs to stay the fuck away from me. I can’t be looking at her when I have people lurking around every corner, waiting for their opportunity to stab me in the back. Not just rogue demons, but other business moguls, upstarts, entrepreneurs, politicians, movie producers, career criminals. The list is fucking endless, and I need to stay focused.
When I finally reach my office, my sanctuary, I try to let the familiar space soothe me. But it doesn’t help—her presence is everywhere. I recall her fingers trailing over the gold vein in my quartz-topped desk and imagine them trailing over veins of a different kind.
“Fuck,” I mutter with feeling. Just the thought of her delicate fingers on my cock has my shaft twitching with interest.
I collapse into my chair with a groan. As much as I try and keep her away physically, there is no escaping Sophia Gallo in my mind. I even remember that her hair looked more red than auburn in here. The subtle green tint to the cream-colored walls or the bronze light fixtures brought it out, perhaps. Her eyes looked almost heather gray when we spoke, but seemed to turn to a vibrant green when she was pinned up against the wall of my lounge.
My cock has gone from semi-interested to fully hard in the space of a few filthy thoughts.
I palm my dick, recalling a blue dress she tried on at the boutique. All that skin, framed so delicately, so perfectly. A red one that Demi put her in proved color theory to be real, as she exuded brazen sexuality and feminine power in it. I imagine flicking the clasp open and letting the sheet of fabric fall to the floor, exposing every inch of sun kissed skin to my touch.
Fuck it.
This is my own goddamn office in my own goddamn building, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to be able to focus for the rest of the day with these thoughts crowding my mind. Maybe indulging in my craving for her just this once will help get it out of my system.
My jaw clenches as the idea takes root in my mind, my body demanding some relief from the constant tension of desiring what I shouldn’t have.
Shucking my jacket, I roll up my sleeves a little, loosening my tie as my breath starts to come faster. My blood runs hot as I finally pull my cock out, and pleasure boils in my veins as I begin to stroke myself. Leaning back a little in my chair, I close my eyes and allow images of Sophia to flash through my mind.
I imagine pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, cupping that gorgeous ass with the other, and fucking her into the wall. I can practically see the curve of her spine and the tilt of her hips as she rocks into my every thrust.
“Yes, little bird,” I mutter under my breath as I lose myself in the vivid images. “So beautiful.”
I hear my name on her lips, her cries of passion, and smell the heady scent of her arousal, my imagination filling in the gaps with shocking clarity. The skin on my shoulder prickles, and I picture her hair tumbling around me as she clings to me, shaking, her thighs soaked with the slickness of her release.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Pleasure builds, hot and violent, tightening and pulsing as I stroke myself, imagining her sliding over me, breasts in my face, fingers in my hair.
“Fuck. Sophia,” I groan.
A sharp gasp answers me.
My eyes fly open to find Sophia herself standing just inside my office door.
Chapter11
Sophia
The file Naamahasked me to bring Lucas is clutched in my hands in a death grip, as if it’s a life raft. Maybe because it is, because it’s the only reason I have to be in this office right now.
I should have knocked.
Of course I should have knocked. Who the fuck do I think I am? This is Lucas’s private space, his sanctuary in this massive building of steel and glass, and I seriously thought I could just poke my head in and drop off files like it was no big deal?
He could’ve been on the phone with someone important, he could’ve been looking at proprietary information, or he could’ve been…
Jerking off while moaning my name.
