Two fucking weeks of fucking being around Delilah, and I was a fucking madman. The beast was uncontrollable, banging on his cage, trying to force his way out and into her.I was reduced to nothing more than a monster ruled by my cock.Every inch of me wanted to be sucked into her pussy, every drop of come splashing inside her.I hated her. Absolutely fucking loathed her.It could have been the situation or just the proximity to a pretty pussy, but every five seconds my dick twitched at the thought of bending her over her desk and fucking the shit out of her.Annoying as fuck, cock teasing woman.Every day women practically threw their breasts in my face, but the ones I wanted to titty fuck were always conservatively concealed. Somehow, Delilah made conservative sexy. The four-inch heels she wore every day drove me insane, and her skirts just had me clenching my fists to keep from pushing the hem to her hips.Fucking hard as steel and unable to do a damn thing about it.
Fucking, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.I clicked the pen in my hand in time with the fucks I was spouting in my head. All attempts to ignore her and turn her against me were failing, thanks to the beast.Fucking drooling, pent-up hunger mixed with rage. That part of me wanted to fucking find out where she lived and decimate her body, just to get it over with.Yeeessssssss.“Do you have to do that?” Delilah asked from beside me. The vein on her forehead was almost twitching, and it was the anger and hatred I needed from her, so I continued on.“It’s my thinking tool.”She glared at me. “Well, your thinking tool has me thinking about all the ways I could harm you with it.”I turned toward her and clicked it again, right in her face. “That time of the month, Palmer?”“You’re an asshole. Get back to work.” She huffed and looked back down at the stack in front of her.Asshole. I was on the right track, now to continue to push the issue. “Which leads me to the question: what hav
Flirting wasn’t working.It was a stupid idea. Flirt with all the women but her. Show her I was attracted to them.Not her.Never Delilah.She made my blood fucking boil. Just sitting next to her was a slow torture, but an agony I endured for some unknown reason.Fuck. I should have told Jack “No.” Been more insistent about it.I needed a fucking drink. A strong one.Headlights in my rearview mirror caught my attention. Six miles they’d stayed close, and it could have been a coincidence, but maybe not. Four years of looking over my shoulder had honed my awareness of my surroundings. I’d become a paranoid motherfucker, but with good cause.Killing Grace and leaving me at death’s door wasn’t enough for Vincent Marconi—it was only the beginning. I was right where he wanted me; locked in a purgatory of my own making.My wife was dead. My son was dead. I was the living dead.A few blocks from my building, the car pulled into the right turn lane, and I caught a glimpse of a
Delilah’s impromptu confession did nothing to sway my curiosity. In fact, it flamed the fire of her draw.I just wanted to make it through the day, just one day, without thinking about her, but she was always fucking there, in my periphery. The smell of her perfume was a constant torture. If we weren’t office mates, working together and she was just some girl at the bar, I could fuck her, get her out of my system, and be done.Instead, I was left ready to explode like a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off at any moment. Anger and frustration mounted, and the sight of her made me furious.I resented her, absolutely despised her for making me want her in the first place.I didn’t want the need that churned inside me. I didn’t want the crawling hunger to fuck her like she was the last fucking woman on the planet. I didn’t want to crave her with her pretty vacant eyes and her plump, perfect all.I didn’t want her.Liar!Shut up!Arguing about it with myself wasn’t hel
The moment I stepped through my door, I turned every lock and leaned against the heavy metal.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.What the fuck did I just do?What we’ve been dying to do.I shook my head, then slammed it back against the door.My dick was still hard, wanting to go another round, ready to fill her again. It didn’t understand the gravity of what I’d just done, only the pleasure.It wasn’t like any other time over the past four years. No charisma to charm my way into her panties and leave her soon after. I was out of my mind, overcome with a powerful need.High strung, out of control, and the next thing I knew I had her pinned to the wall.I forced myself on her.What the fuck is wrong with me?We didn’t.Yes, I did.She wanted it, begged for it, creamed for it.“Stop!” I screamed out. My arm swung forward to punch the invisible version of myself and crashed through the wall instead.It took a moment for the shock to settle in, for me to see my fist stuck inside the
I spent all of Saturday staring at my front door, at the couple of holes I’d created. There was nothing but guilt that consumed me as I waited, expectant of some type of retribution. All week I’d waited, and I was somehow convinced the weekend would hold my punishment.The sun rose on one side of my condo and set on the other, and nothing happened. There was no banging on the door, no phone calls. Nothing.Silence.It did nothing to assuage my feelings. Even the beast was silent. Being the unpredictable, emotional, violent side of me, he had begun to feel remorse, too.Though even with the remorse was the itch. Soft at first, but as the day faded, it became almost unbearable. The notion that one time with her would be enough was obliterated the second I was inside her.I didn’t sleep that night. I’d barely slept all week. By nine in the morning I was showered, dressed for some ungodly known reason in my slacks, shirt, and tie, pacing my condo, probably driving my neighbors
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They couldn’t.Twice. I’d fucked her twice.It’d been four years since I touched a woman more than one time, and my wife was the only one for a decade. That was how much Lila had unhinged me.I never slept with a woman more than once. There was no way I was going to let anyone in, and more than once would imply there was something more. Yet, I’d been inside Lila twice and my dick was hard, dying to be inside her again.My skin crawled, vibrated with the desire to taste her. To sink my teeth into her skin as my hips flexed my cock deep inside her.And it fucking pissed me off.I had to stay away. Never again.Things I said to her in the chaos, words that would have earned a slap, she reveled in. They weren’t definitions I associated with her, but I wanted her to be a whore for my cock. A slut willing to do anything to have me inside her. Me and nobody else.Mine.Every cell in me vibrated, more life coursing through me than there had been
Lila finished just before six, and instead of starting something new, opted for what was an early night compared to the rest. She didn’t say a word, still mulling in her anger from earlier, and just grabbed her coat and jacket and headed to the door. The moment she was out of sight, I saved my work, putting slips of paper with notes for where to pick up in the morning, and followed.I stalked her ass home, speeding in order to decrease the time it took for me to catch up to her. Seconds after getting out of her car, I pulled into the parking spot next to her.We had shit to talk about, namely what the fuck got into her at the office. She avoided my stare, tried to act like I wasn’t there, and that annoyed the fuck out of me.Once I was within ten feet of her, something in the air changed. We weren’t in the office, bound by rules and watchful eyes.We entered the elevator and pushed the buttons for our floors. She still refused to acknowledge me, even in the mirrored reflect