His face strobed uninvited through my mind. Wouldn’t leave me alone as I leaned my bare ass against the sink. The knot in my neck ached for the steam of the hot shower fogging the room. He was a cocky fucker. I wanted to hate his charisma and arrogance and ruggedly handsome catalog looks, but found it impossible. He was impossible. That conceited smirk he wore when he knew he was right was as aggravating as it was sexy.
Even the frosted shower screen reminded me of the glass-panelled conference room through which I spied Josh fuckin’ Hughes using his seductive wit to charm the new CEO. Laughing. Flirting. Brief touches to Jane’s forearm. Asshole.
I stepped into the spray and let the water wash over my face, hoping it would drown away the thoughts. It only made them more pronounced; flicker book images dominated by his features. Taper fade haircut. Strong stubbled jaw. Blue-grey stare that swept my body and always lingered a moment longer than it should at the swell of my breasts.
Cupping the curve of my tits, I subconsciously massaged my nipples, peaks firming; responding as if he was right there watching me become lost in his magnetism. His gravity. His West Coast swagger, confident and… authoritative. Commanding me to do things nobody else dared. Like kneeling to worship his growing bulge. Scratching my nails over the material of his jeans and kissing him through it.
My fingers worked their way south, beneath the warming spray, slipping between my legs to curl deep into the smooth folds of my throbbing pussy. I jerked and threw my head back as unexpected heat tore through my frame. One hand braced against the cool tiles as the other padded my insides. A building ache stirred just above my reaching fingertips. My walls thickened as I clawed, palm clamped hard and firm into my fiery clit. Slippery. Needy.
In my head, I yanked the buttons of his fly apart to free his magnificent cock. Take it in my hand and lose my breath at its poise. Its power. Its delicious rigidity, all for me to kiss and lick and engulf.
Satisfaction washed over me from scalp to sole but the finish I so desperately craved was maddeningly out of reach, no matter how hard I tried. Like he was teasing me, holding back just a fraction. Enough to turn me into a quivering ball of want, teetering on the edge, yearning for more.
He was such an ass but I wanted him desperately. I longed to feel his hands snake to my ponytail and yank my head back to look up at him. To ram me onto his engorged prick. To feel every inch crashing into my hunger, wanting to be the best for him. Make him grit his teeth and swear at how fucking good I was.
Fuck, I needed more.
Frustrated, I withdrew my fingers and gasped as emptiness registered. Again, I cupped both breasts, pinching rigid nipples and squeezing doughy flesh that spilled into the bathroom steam. I moaned and imagined it was him. Josh fucking Hughes, grinning down at me, playing me, his firm cock inches from my mouth, brushing my lips as I tried to capture him.