Any other night, my cock would be straining for release, but I’m sporting a semi at best. It only got that hard because every few minutes, I would imagine Harper on the cross, begging for release. I’d love to hear her beg, pushed too far, and desperate to orgasm.
Eventually, I decide I need to conclude the scene. It’s early enough, and she’ll find another partner. I press the wand to her folds, turn it to high and order her to come for me. Her cries of pleasure fill the room, met by the murmurs of the voyeurs who take as much added pleasure from the scene as she did by being on display. I know several of them will relocate to private rooms to continue their own play.
She slumps in her bonds, catching her breath.
“Good girl,” I praise. She did nothing wrong, and I want her to know that.
She gives me a weak smile. “Thank you, sir.”
I help her down and allow her to use me as leverage as she gets dressed. Another couple is already angling to use the cross as we walk out of the room.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “You were great. My mind was just elsewhere.”
“It happens.”
“You’ll be okay?” I ask.
She chuckles. “I’m sure I can find somebody for round two.”
“Good. I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”
“No pun intended?”
I laugh. “No pun intended.”
“What are you going to do?”
I shake my head. “I’m calling it a night.”
“You’re not going to try again?” she asks, a tone of shock in her voice. “I thought maybe it was because we were public.”
“No, if I was going to feel it tonight, then I would have felt it with you. I’d rather not disappoint a second person.”
She stops before we reach the meet-and-greet room, and I turn to face her.
“Axel,” she pauses, obviously uncomfortable with completely dropping the submissive demeanor. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m sure it’ll pass. I’m probably stressed and not knowing it.”
“Okay. You’re really fun to be with, so tonight was a surprise.”
“I really am sorry.”
She shakes her head. “No. It happens. Everybody has off days. Besides, you were at least enough of a gentleman to not leave me up there high and dry.”
“You were anything but dry.”
She smiles. “A testament to your work.”
I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
She nods. “Go on. I’ll follow in a few minutes, so people don’t think we’re together.”
“Okay.”
I head out and manage to get a ride almost immediately. It’s the first time I’ve left the club more frustrated than when I arrived.
My cock is as hard as a rock when I wake up the next morning, more than my usual morning wood. The vague recollections of dreams explain why. Harper Sullivan. She’d been on my mind since leaving the club, and obviously still into my sleep.
I couldn’t even get it up for a beautiful and willing sub last night, no matter how much I wanted to. But thoughts of the petite blonde have me achingly hard. I take myself in hand, fingertips trailing over my length. I close my eyes, imagining that it’s her delicate hands on me, eyes hungry for it.
“Harper,” I sigh, running my thumb over the head.
I want to feel her mouth and the sweet heat of her pussy. I want to drive myself into her over and over until she’s screaming my name. Then, I want to spread her out, tie her down, and take her again, using her overstimulation to make her repeatedly come, unable to do anything except take me until I’m done.
I want her crying because it’s too much while begging for more at the same time.
My breathing quickens as I think of everything I want to do to her. How would she thrash if I pressed a wand to her clit? How would her nipples look when squeezed by clamps? Would she prefer ticklers or whips?
“Harper,” I moan, thrusting into my hand as I imagine the possibilities.
I gasp as I realize what I’m doing, pulling my hand from my cock before I can come.
“Shit,” I breathe, raking my other hand down my face. “She’s fucking off-limits, Axel.”
I climb from the bed and stumble into the bathroom, where I intend to take the coldest shower possible.
“Damnit, Declan!” I curse, pounding one fist on the countertop. “Why did you have to pair me with her?”
I should have said no. He’d given me a chance, but he’d have asked why if I’d requested somebody else. It wouldn’t have been fair to her, either. She didn’t deserve to be pulled from a project because I would have a serious case of blue balls by the end of it.
I look at myself in the mirror. “You’ve gotta get her off your mind, Axel. That’s the only solution.”
The problem is, how can I?
I step into the freezing shower, but it does little to calm my raging erection. Even standing there, shivering under the spray, I can’t get images of Harper out of my head. I see her intent at work, studying something on her computer, then I have visions of her naked and writhing as I plunge my cock into her.
Finally, I give in, moaning her name as I stroke myself to a hard finish. It just makes me want her more.
I ponder the Harper problem all weekend, trying to come up with a plan to get her off my mind. Do I want her only because she’s forbidden fruit? Do I want a taste of something a little more innocent? Is my dominant side looking for something to corrupt, to take her naivety, and make her beg for me? The questions go around and around in my head, further cementing my thoughts on her rather than driving them out.
I still have to work with Harper, and that can’t happen if my every third thought happens to be one of using my belt to tie her hands to the conference table so I can fuck her senseless with our work strewn around us.
I want to see her white-blond hair mussed from having my hands tangled in it, her pink lips swollen and red from first kissing and sucking my cock. I want to know what she looks like as she comes, and feel the sweet heat as I empty into her.
“Damnit!” I curse, grabbing a handful of my own hair. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t even go five minutes without thinking of her.”
This isn’t just lust. It's an obsession, and it’s unhealthy. I’m also quickly coming to the conclusion that it isn’t going to go away.
“Okay, Axel,” I say to myself. “New plan. We’re going to get Harper Sullivan out of our system. Once it’s clear that it’s nothing like the fantasies, we can move on.”
I think about it for a moment and nod. “Good plan. Fuck her to get over her. What could go wrong?”
The first step—stop being angry when I can’t avoid her.
Days later, Harper’s wearing a cute peplum blouse over a pencil skirt, and I’m pulled as far into the conference table as I can to hide the semi I’m sporting. It’s been almost a week since she did the assessment for the project, and now she has a couple of whiteboards set up on easels with notes. Normally, for clients, we’d have print graphs and charts, but we’d decided to skip the expense since it’s an in-house project.
She finishes rattling off some information about niche markets and turns to me. “Any questions?”