All Chapters of LUSTING AFTER MY FATHER’s BEST FRIEND. : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

My workplace is holy.. After all, it’s where my ambition thrives. Where my plans are made and my strategies are conducted. This is where my problems disappear, where I don't have to think about anything except closing or opening a contract. This is where I come to focus and forget about the girl I left behind, and then go back late so that I don’t see her. The girl who has been on my mind for years now has taken up the whole space of my mind since we got married—the girl who makes me question everything. Only, she’s not a girl, is she? I want to call her that to stop my cock from having ideas, but she was never that—a girl. At least, not for some time. She’s a woman now. A grown-up fucking woman with wide hips and a curved up body that leads to boobs. Fuck, they weren't boobs, they were breasts, cause shit. She was fucking endowed. And she’s currently in the place where I’m supposed to be focused, not sidetracked. Her sexy self is here. Anastasia is right here, at L&K

DAMIEN. She fakes an innocent smile. I knew she had a lot of things going on in her mind, and she was probably calling me names in her head right now, but I didn't care; I just didn't. A lot of things were at stake now that she wanted to intern at my workplace. “I can’t do that to my new boss,” she said in the most sweetest tone. She did that to annoy me, but she was also doing a lot of other things to me that she didn't want to know about. “How about your husband?” I baited her. Her lips fall open again, and I revel in that, probably more than I should. I stopped the smirk that was threatening to make an appearance on my face. I love taking her off guard, making her bothered in her own fucking skin. It’s a small taste of what she does to me all the fucking time, and I can't stop swearing when I'm in her presence, and it bothers me so fucking much. Fuck. “I can call you names,” she whispers, looking like she couldn't kill an ant. Like she wasn't all talk just a

ANASTASIA. “Fine, you don’t have to be so “snarky.” I open the log. “I’m Ana. What’s your name?” “Caroline. Now, work.” It’s actually a lot more fun than I thought. I help her in making lists of cases by year and she makes charts for them that can be sorted alphabetically, by lawyer, by nature, by docket number, and even by judge. And she does it so fast that I’m a little ashamed it took me hours to go through the files Damien gave me. It was the hostile looks from the other interns, maybe. Caroline, however, makes me motivated to work. “That is so beautiful.” I motion at the result on the screen, but Caroline doesn’t even crack a smile, just continues on as if her fingers are fluid and all they know is the colorful keyboard, as if everybody knows how to do this. She's so good at what she does. “Doing needless things again, Caroline?” a guy with frameless glasses asks as he stands beside us. He’s one of the techs who were sitting in front of the screens earlier. Hi

ANASTASIA. “Are you listening, Ana?”I slide my attention from my assaulted vanilla milkshake that I’ve been jamming the straw in and out of to Zeke, who’s staring at me with a furrowed brow.He came to pick me up earlier and we’ve been sitting in a coffee shop and talking. Well, he’s ended up doing all the talking while I’ve been thinking about other things.Like what was Damien doing with Payton the entire afternoon?For hours.Alone.She didn’t even leave in her car.Logically, I shouldn’t be this affected, because I have no hold on him, right? Except maybe I do. After all, there’s a marriage certificate that says he’s married to me, and it should go without saying that he doesn’t leave with a woman who isn’t me.It’s only on paper. The marriage isn’t real.“Are you still upset about your dad?” Zeke tries again.He’s such a gentleman. Like the best ever, and he’s hot, too, with his leather jacket, medium-length hair, and his pouty lips that are good at kissing.But I don’t think k

ANASTASIA.Gravity seems to have left the building.Or maybe it’s my sanity.Maybe it’s both.Because I don’t feel either of them—neither gravity nor my sanity. I’m floating in the air and unable to land.Or more accurately, I’m floating on Damien’s shoulder. His broad shoulder that I’ve always looked at and might have dreamt about touching, but not with my stomach. I wasn’t that crazy.Apparently, I am now, though, because that’s all I can think about—my stomach on his shoulder. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m thinking about a lot of things, like how his strong arm is looped around my calves and the way my head is hitting his powerful back with each step up the stairs.He’s carrying me like I’m a weightless feather. The effortlessness of the act does things to me. His strength. His brutishness. His domination.All of it.And I soak it in, allow it to tear me open and seep inside me. Isn’t that what masochists do? Not only do we seek the pain, but we also wallow in it and allow it to grow roo