were shouting that there was something there, and he knew he’d find it. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow he’d sit down with the others, brainstorm and take it from there. Computer research was only a small part of identifying a problem.
Figuring he’d reached a dead end for the evening, Blaze shut down the computer. What he needed now was a hot shower and a drink. Or maybe a cold shower would suit him better. Except when he’d been focused on his research, he hadn’t been able to get the image of Peyton West out of his brain. That sure didn’t say much about a guy who was famous for his self control.
He stripped off his clothes and tossed them into the hamper, then headed into the bathroom where he cranked on the shower. One of the perks of spending bucks on his home was all the goodies he could include in it. His walk-in shower took up a quarter of the big bathroom, with multiple rain shower heads and a built-in bench being just the tip of the iceberg.
When he had the water set as hot as he wanted, he stepped into it, poured liquid soap into his palm and began lathering his body. As he moved his palm over his skin, he had a sudden flash of Peyton West soaping his body, her soft hand stroking him, brushing smoothly over his balls.
The image of her, the sun highlighting her rich chestnut hair, the way her slacks followed the sweet curve of her ass and the soft drape of her sweater on her breasts made him want to run his hands over every inch of her body. He could just imagine how rosy those nipples would be, soft in his mouth at first then harder as he sucked on them. Maybe closed his teeth down on them.
What would it be like to slip his dick inside her, stretching inner walls he knew would be soft and wet, her opening tight around him? Did he want to fuck her when he was on top so he could look directly into her eyes? Or from the back, with her on her knees, legs spread wide, both openings so tempting he wouldn’t know which one to take first. Then wake up with her spooned against him so he could slip inside her and slowly work them both to orgasm.
Shit!
What the fuck was the matter with him? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have personal discipline. But holy god.
He had reached his groin area and his hand collided with his dick standing at full attention, painfully swollen. He tightened his grip on it and began to rub it with slow, lazy strokes. As he did, he imagined Peyton’s fingers there instead, firm but gentle, wrapped around his hardness. Maybe she’d drop to her knees in front of him and wrap her lips around the throbbing head. Swirl her tongue over it as the pace of her strokes increased. He could visualize the spray of the shower cascading drops over her naked body, her nipples erect and rosy.
Leaning against the shower wall, the image so vivid in his brain, he pumped faster and faster. Then, with an intense shudder that raced through his body, he came, spurting all over his fingers. The viscous liquid covered his hand and dripped to the tile on the floor. He stroked and squeezed again and again until he’d emptied himself of every bit of cum.
When the last spasm faded away, his legs were so weak that he slid to the floor. His hands were shaking and his heart pounding as if he’d just had off-the-charts sex with the woman firmly implanted in his brain. He leaned against the shower wall, letting the water pour over him like rainfall. He had no idea how long he sat there, his cock now at rest and lying in his palm. Unfortunately, need still thrummed through his body.
All he could think was, What the fuck?
Chapter Four
Peter Kendrick handed a rocks glass filled with bourbon to the man sitting in one of the deep leather armchairs.
“I have a major problem that I need your help with.”
Warren Sulzberger drew his eyebrows together in a heavy scowl. It was obvious to Peter that the man was not happy to be here. Well, not any happier than Kendrick was at the situation that had made this happen. He was only glad that his wife was no longer here to see the mess her son had made.
Having to