Page 8 of Peaches

God, as cliche as it sounds, what I wouldn’t give to taste her peach. Wet. Juicy.Sweet yet perfectly tangyas it coats my tongue before sliding down the back of my mouth.

Worshiping her. Honoring her. Glorifying her. Idolizing every inch of her soft skin, over and over again.

It’s a thought I could fantasize about for the rest of my life and never grow tired of. I feel the truth of that fact deep in my soul as I rid myself of the rest of my clothes, turn on the shower and step in. If dreaming about her is this addictive, actually having the reality in my arms might prove to be too much to ever fully let myself claim. It’s a hard truth I know and feel more than anything else in the world.

I’m a man of habitual addiction.

My work. My routines. My habits. I need them to stay alive.

It’s a coping mechanism I learned when I was young. Otherwise, my ADHD is all over the fucking place leaving meinattentive,impulsiveandhigh-strung. Control the uncontrollable with habits. That’s how I’ve mastered life. And giving into a woman who could quickly become my main obsession proves only deadly the more I consider it.

If I let her become anything more than an infatuation, I know, without any doubt, I’d never be able to live without her again.

She’d become an unbreakable habit that would ruin me if I let it.

Peaches.

Fuck me!

Sweet, warm, intoxicating peaches.

Hell, maybe just one fantasy.

One indulgence.

Oneself-gratifying,sensual act in the shower.

I smile as my mind recalls my words from earlier and I let myself drown in her memory. Fisting my hard dick in my hands, I pull quickly as my head falls back and I control my impulse the only way I know how. I’m all kinds of damn attentive as I begin to beat into my head (both of them) the fact that peaches will be reserved forself-gratifyingpleasureonly.

Peaches.

Fuck, if only everything in life really was as sweet as a peach.

3

Grace

Crap!

The door to the elevator opens and the file in my hand spills out all over the floor. Papers go flying everywhere. Half in the hallway. Half in the elevator. Half about to get eaten by the elevator door as I quickly jolt forward and throw my arm out to stop it.

Shit! This is not the way I imagined this going. When I promised my publisher that I’d meet later this evening with a finally working manuscript, I thought I’d definitely have it more together. Especially after almost everything in my life seemed to effortlessly click in to place after this morning’s delicious distraction. I’ve now typed almost fifteen thousand words and plotted out the remaining seventy-five thousand. A fact I know would make any publisher happy, and hopefully, my editor also, as I’m just as eager to get her hands on what I hope is my next bestseller.

We all know the required story line, right? Boy meets girl. Boy gets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl back. Or, for the feminists out there, girl meets boy, and so on. Except this one has a twist no one would see coming. I know, I know. I told myself, “no twists needed.” But hey, it wouldn’t be one of my books if I didn’t have a little shameless fun while I was at it, would it?

I smile at the thought, feeling like I got something good up my sleeve for the first time in a long time as I bend down to pick up the papers scattered all over the floor and suddenly get smacked in the butt from the annoying elevator door. Righting myself in my heels, I look up and thank my lucky stars no one’s in the lobby witnessing my chaos. I quickly grab the last couple of papers in the elevator before stepping outside just in time to escape another hard metal smack to the ass, and then gather the rest on the floor of the reception area.

The place is quiet. Too quiet. I find that odd as I stand up straight, fling my hair over my shoulder, and survey the empty space. Attempting to straighten the stack in my hands, I blow out a deep breath and look around taking notice of the dimly lit area. Susan is always behind the front desk, and always well past the time she is getting paid for. So where the receptionist is now, and why the lights are off as if the place is closed, I have no damn idea.

“Hello?”

I call out into what seems like the unknown even though I have walked through these halls more times than I have called my mother in the last week, and that’s saying a lot.

Cocking my head from side to side, my brow furrows as I step further into the space.

“Susan?”

But the only thing that greets me is the sudden noise of the air conditioning clicking on and making me slightly jump out of my skin.

---