Page 4 of Good Intentions, Vol. 1

Chapter Three

Nick

Walking through the empty halls of my office building gives me a sense of peace. Peace and relief. Who would have thought that I would find escape in my work? Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my accomplishments, but every step of the way I thought that if I could just climb that last step to success, I would kick back and enjoy my life, not bury myself into work more. Well, turns out life had other things planned for me, and now, besides Ben, work is the only thing I enjoy.

I open my office door, and immediately see that something is off. For starters, the lamp on my desk is on, not to mention I can hear a shower going in my private bathroom.

What the fuck?

The first thought of someone spying on us goes out the window immediately because no corporate spy would stop to take a shower. I creep to the door that is cracked open, to take a look and get the fucker who dared to come in, out of my property. I slowly open the door a little bit more and am momentarily struck stupid. I know that hair, the curve of that neck, the perfect ass that’s putting up a show through fogged up glass. It’s the same one that haunts my dreams for months now.

It’s Heather.

All rational thought goes out the window. I don’t stalk in, tear her out of the shower, and fire her ass on the spot. No. I pull the door, leaving just a crack open like it was, and like a fucking peeping Tom, I take my fill.

Dear God in heaven.

I knew she was hiding something spectacular under her clothes, but the sight that’s in front of me was nowhere near the images my mind came up with. I watch her as she raises her arms to get the shampoo out of her hair. The water cascading down, missing her back, and hitting right at her ass, going down her legs.

Oh, how I wish I could hit that ass.

I almost let out a moan as I watch her take her tits in her hands, gently squeezing them and then one hand going down her belly, palm to her skin, and right between her thighs to clean the soap from her pussy.

Is she as wet as I’m hard right now?

Is she thinking of me?

Watching the movement of her fingers as she gently spreads the lips of her pussy, her finger gently brushing her clit, and hearing the soft groan that comes out of her mouth, I have to bite my fist not to make a sound.

I can’t take any more.

Before I do something stupid as to open that door, take my clothes off, and join her in the shower where I fuck her just for thinking she could use my stuff without permission, I close the door. Leaning against my desk facing the door, I make sure my suit jacket is hiding my hard-on.

And I wait.

And wait.

After a few excruciatingly long minutes the water turns off, and five minutes more, I hear the door open. I set my face in the sternest expression I can get, prepared to rip her to shreds, because I don’t need this kind of distraction. She may not know what she’s doing to me, but I’ll be damned if she ever did. I don’t need this new level of torture she’s going to put me through with the memory she gave me. Once again, I’m rooted in my spot, and once again, I’m proven I’m just now falling down in hell. She stands in front of me, the goddess in all her glory, wrapped up in only my shirt, her panties and bra dangling from her fingers, her cheeks slightly pink, her mouth slightly open, her face set in shock.

“Mr. Thompson,” she stutters.

“Hello Heather,” good thing I’m a master at my work, and because of it, I’m master at hiding my emotions, giving nothing but calm away.

“I…I thought,” she tries to say something, but I interrupt her.

“You thought you were alone and could come into my private space and use it as you wish,” I snap. I know I’m acting like a demeaning fucker right now, but now, that’s the only option.

Otherwise, I would throw my arm behind me, swiping everything from the desk on the floor, plant her ass on it, and bury my face in the pussy that right now has the smell of my shampoo and the remains of her orgasm. I want to drink that shit up so much and get lost in her, forgetting everything and everyone, I can actually feel my balls turning blue.

“Uh... Yes,” she admits, looking anywhere but at me, until her eyes zero in on my crotch.

Fuck!

I stand up, walking two steps until I’m right in front of her. Inhaling I take a whiff of her. Her natural scent mixed with my smell is the best-goddamned aphrodisiac there ever was. Or is. She stands silent in front of me, her eyes planted firmly on my neck. Her chest going up and down rapidly, the hard nipples of her tits brushing my chest. I should get a medal for not taking her into my arms and ravaging the fuck out of her. I forget everything I was going to say when I see it. One single drop of water gliding down her neck, it’s mesmerizing. And before I know it, I look in horror as my hand goes up out of its own will, the finger extended. We both take a swift breath as my skin touches hers at the base of her neck and my finger glides up, scooping up the drop. We both watch as my finger goes directly to my mouth, both of our eyes wide. The second the tip of it touches my tongue, and the phantom of her taste mixed with water explodes on my tongue, I close my eyes. With the very last reserve of my strength, I catch the groan that is about to come out of the very depth of me and assume a stern position.

“You’ll not ever come in here without permission, you’ll never use the bathroom without me saying so again, and you most fucking definitely won’t wear my clothes without me telling you so,” I take a step back, there are tears in her blues, shimmering but not falling.

Good girl.