Vanilla On Top(7)

Impossible.

I’m aching to jerk off, an act I don’t normally have to perform unless traveling for business in an isolated area.

Unbidden, the image of Heather across the bistro table blossoms in my mind, bringing back the exact moment she asked if I wanted someone to tell me what to do. Her long, black hair cascaded over a shoulder, the trailing ends hugging the underside of one pert breast. An enigmatic smile creased the delicate features on her fresh face. No one would have guessed her simple sweater and skirt hid a cauldron of sexual heat bubbling below the surface.

No pretense of heavy makeup, no overly done hairstyle a man can’t touch, no slave to fashion…well, except those spiked heels she wore. If she hadn’t barked that order at me to turn off my phone, I could have easily missed her. And that would have been a crying shame.

The memory of her taste has me jumping up to lock the office door, right as I reach to unzip my fly. The pressure mounting in me has to come out or I’ll be useless all damn day. A small part of me is annoyed at how she left me hanging last night, but as my fist closes over the flesh of my engorged cock, I have to admit I don’t care.

I free the swollen organ and feel like an eager teenager discovering the joys of self-pleasure as I pump my length up and down. My head leans on the chair back as I close my eyes and picture Heather telling me to get on my knees. The skin slides up and down in my grip, creating a warm friction.

I recall Heather’s husky voice guiding my thumbs to her wet sex. Her musky smell spilled into the night, choking out the lingering aromas of the city.

A bead of come leaks out the weeping slit of my cock and trails down the side. I massage the slick warmth around my shaft in a circular twist of my fist and increase the pressure on each stroke, driving myself closer to a peak.

My mouth waters at the remembered taste of her. She was so sexy when she came, mewling soft little sounds of pleasure deep in her throat. I want to slide into her tight wetness and feel her writhe around my flesh. I’d make her call out her release, not stifle the noises like last night. The image of driving myself deep and fast into her permeates my mind, forcing out all other thoughts.

The arousal I’ve felt all night and all morning combined with the stimulation of my hand promises to deliver a powerful peak. The pressure builds in the base of my cock and all I hear in my head is Heather moaning her pleasure while I plunge inside her. I jerk my fist faster, willing my fantasy to become real. At the last moment I remember to cup my left hand around the head and catch my come as it releases.

Wave after wave of sensation shudders through me in time with my pulsing prick. Tension flows out of my body as calmness enters my brain. I open my eyes and reach for the tissues in my top drawer. Steely shards of determination spike down my spine as I clean up and toss the tissues away.

I want her. Man, do I want her.

At least now I should be able to get some work done.

I wonder how long she will make me wait before she calls. I will find this woman, if it’s the last thing I do.



The packed upscale sushi restaurant hums with its usual business luncheon crowd. Every slender woman with dark hair has me turning to see if she’s Heather. This establishment is only a block from the wine bistro—she could work nearby. My release this morning only took the edge off my obsession.

My best friend, Marcus, one of the lawyers on our legal advising team for the current merger, thumps his water glass loudly on table. “What the hell is with you today? Your mind was somewhere else through that whole meeting.”

I shrug and look away, not willing to talk about what I experienced last night with Heather. Marcus wouldn’t understand why some slip of a woman with a commanding voice flicked all my switches. Hell, I’m not sure if I know why.

Marcus ignores my avoidance and barrels on. “Brian is trying to circumvent all you’ve set up on the Rafferty buyout. You see that, right?” He folds his napkin and places it on the table. “He’s not just being an obtuse ass.”

I stare a tad too long at a passing Asian woman with flowing black hair. She smiles at me, misunderstanding my gaze. Eagerness lights her eyes with an invitation I can’t fail to miss. “Yes. I figured out Brian’s play a couple of days ago. He’s hoping to undercut my bid so he’ll look better to Nikko.”

Marcus checks out a blonde at the next table while reaching for the bill. “Mr. Apostolopolous knows who the better negotiator is. You’ve made more money for his family than anyone else in the history of the company.”

I smile at my college friend’s loyalty. “Well, they didn’t go public and start to acquire other businesses until twenty years ago…” I raise a hand to cut off the other man who looks like he’s ready to protest and proclaim my success loudly. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you know as well as I do—in this business, you’re judged by your last deal more than anything else.” We rise after he signs the bill.