Page 39 of Sinful Bride

I start to stroke. Slow at first, trying to ease the ache without giving in completely. But it's not enough. It's never enough. My hand moves faster, my grip tightening, and I have to brace my other hand on the desk as I start to jerk roughly, giving myself over to the knowledge that I’m going to have to come in order to move on from this for even a little while.

I imagine her watching me, imagine her on her knees in front of me. I imagine telling her to open her mouth and the feel of her lips around me, her tongue on me, the way she'd look with my cock in her mouth.

Christ.

My breathing gets harsher. My hand moves faster. I'm too wound up, too desperate, too fucking needy for this woman who doesn't want me. Or does want me but won't admit it. Or wants me but hates herself for it.

I don't even know anymore.

I imagine pushing her back on that bed and spreading her legs, seeing her wet and ready for me. Imagine making her come so hard she forgets every reason she has for hating me.

My hand moves faster, rougher. I'm chasing something I can't quite reach, something that stays just out of grasp no matter how hard I try, a pleasure that my own hand won’t satisfy. The pressure builds in my spine, coiling tighter and tighter, and I know I'm so fucking close.

I remember the sight of her with that vibrator, so pretty and delicate, still in her silk pajamas while she teased herself, and I just barely manage to grab tissues in time to keep from spurting all over my desk. I thrust into my palm, soaking the tissues as I clench my teeth against a ragged groan, pleasure burning down my spine as I fuck my hand. My entire body goes rigid, my hand still moving, milking every last drop of pleasure from myself. I come hard, and for a moment everything goes white and blank, empty of everything except the sensation.

Then it's over. I'm left standing in my office with my cock in my hand and the crushing realization that nothing has changed. I'm still desperate, still losing my fucking mind over a woman who sees me as beneath her.

I clean myself up and try to pretend that helped. It didn't. If anything, it made it worse. This isn't just lust or deprivation, or the natural result of being married to a beautiful woman I can't touch. This is something deeper. Something more dangerous.

This is obsession. And I have no idea how to make it stop.

I'm still trying to pull myself together when there's a knock on my office door. "What?" My voice comes out harsher than I intend.

"Boss." It's Cormac. "There's someone here to see you."

I glance at the clock on my desk. Nearly midnight. "Who?"

"Says his name is Dante Moretti. Says he works for the Capettis."

My hand freezes as I fasten my belt. A Capetti man, here, at midnight. That doesn’t feel like a good thing. I’m under no illusions that Don Capetti likes me now, even though he’s given me his daughter. This was a reluctant alliance, and our men aren’t working together. There’s no reason I can think of for a surprise meeting this late at night.

"He armed?"

"We checked him. He's clean."

I consider the fact that I'm in no state to be making any kind of decisions right now. But I'm also curious, and desperate for a distraction from thoughts of my wife.

"Bring him in."

Cormac disappears, and I take a moment to straighten my shirt and try to look like a man in control instead of a man who just jerked off in his office thinking about his wife.

The door opens, and Cormac ushers in a man I don't recognize. He's maybe forty, with dark hair going grey at the temples. When he looks at me, there's something like respect there.

Or maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see.

"Mr. Murphy." He extends his hand. "Thank you for seeing me."

I shake it. His grip is firm and confident. "You've got five minutes to tell me why you're here."

"I want to work for you."

I blink. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't one of them. "You want to defect?" I frown. “Or has Don Capetti sent you here, with his blessing?”

"No. The don is unaware. I’ve left of my own volition.”

"Why?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Because I think the Capettis are wrong about you. And I think you're the kind of man I want to work for."