Darkly (Follow Me 4)

She looks up, her cute puppy eyes pleading, and then she continues her play.

Nice try.

I walk over and leash her. “Sorry, girl. Time to go.”

She reluctantly comes along.

Back home, I hand my pup over to Annika’s capable hands and head into the office. The real office. Yeah, I’m wearing jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt, but it’s Saturday. I really want to call Claire and ask her to come in and lend a hand, but I resist the urge. My staff works hard during the week, and most of them covet their weekends.

I don’t blame them.

Years ago, when I did construction for a living, working for my father’s small company, I was one of those people who coveted time off. We didn’t get much. We worked six days a week most weeks, for up to fifteen-hours stretches sometimes.

I learned hard work from my father. Once he got sober and got his act together…

Well, it wasn’t just the sobriety that forced him to get his act together.

And I really don’t want to think about any of that shit right now.

So I dive in and tackle what I do best.

Work.

…

Two prospectuses and four phone calls later, I rise and stretch. The sun has gone down, and dusk shades the view from my office window. What the hell time is it, anyway? I’ve had my phone on speaker this whole time, and I haven’t bothered to check the hour.

Eight thirty? Not surprising. I lose track of time a lot. Ben says I’m a workaholic, though he works nearly as much as I do. He’s not here now, though. He’s probably out with a woman.

Smart man.

I could find a woman easily. I’m horny as hell, so I give it a minute of thought.

Then I dismiss it.

Because I only want one woman.

I pick up my phone to check Skye’s Instagram. What’s she doing right now? Most likely she’s home or possibly out with friends. Perhaps the good-looking bestie who makes appearances in her posts.

Before I even click on her profile, though, a photo appears on my feed.

It’s Skye and her bestie.

Hanging out at the MADD Gala with the bestie! @tessalolita #madd #gala #bestiesforever

Skye looks gorgeous. She’s fucking glowing. And those tits. They’re nearly spilling out of the clingy little black dress she’s wearing. Her hair is down, tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her eyes are bright, long-lashed, and sparkling. And those lips… Painted with a red tint and parted…

I adjust my groin.

Skye is out on the town. Not only out but at the MADD Gala—an event I was asked to sponsor but turned down.

Fuck it all. I could be there right now. With Skye and her little black dress and her glistening red lips.

I could be there.

And I’m not.

But I can fix that.