Page 22 of Bossy Wicked Prince

I stroke up and down, imagining that it’s Cat’s delicate hand circling my cock.

My hand moves the way I imagine Cat’s would. She’d start stroking experimentally, seeing what I like. Her thumb would trace the thick vein on top of my cock. When she sees how much I like that, she’ll be bold enough to squeeze harder. Maybe I’d put my hand on top of hers to show her exactly how I like it.

At her core, Cat likes making people happy. I know she’ll be eager to please when it comes to sex.

Fuck. Exactly what I crave. She’s like my personal Kryptonite.

I slam my free hand against the wall for support as I pick up speed.

My mind conjures up an image of Cat kneeling in front of me, her lips parted. She’d stick her tongue out to catch the drop of pre-cum on my head before I slid my cock into her hot mouth. Right now, I’m so desperate, it’d take every fiber of my being to go slow. To let her be the one in control, so I don’t overwhelm her.

Even though I know she’ll be eager to swallow all of me.

Water pounds on my back. The wet slapping sound of water on skin echoes off the tiles. I know it’s wrong, fantasizing about ravaging the girl I’m supposed to be keeping safe. But I need this—one fantasy to get her out of my system.

I groan as I come all over my hand and the shower wall.

If Cat were here, she’d swallow every goddamn drop.

“You’re pathetic, Walsh,” I mutter to myself.

I could go out and find another girl right now if I wanted. But here I am, wanking it to the only one I can’t have. It’s pitiful.

I wrap up my shower quickly, not bothering to shave today. I head to my closet, picking out a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and dove-gray tie that my stylist picked out for me. That’s right, I use a stylist. I don’t care how much shit the guys give me for it—if you dress to look good, you don’t do it halfway.

My phone dings when I’m in the middle of buttoning my shirt. The House of Cards group chat is lighting up for some reason. Whatever it is, it can wait until I’m dressed. I don’t open the chat until I’ve tied my tie and put on a watch.

By then, of course, it’s too late.

Ryan

You won’t believe who brought a girl home last night.

Luke

If you’re bragging about your own conquests, we don’t want to hear it.

Ryan

Number one, who says “conquests” anymore?

Ryan

Number two, I wasn’t going to tell you about my own overnight guest, but Natalia’s a total fox.

Luke

Repeat: We don’t want to hear it.

Beau

If we got a report every time Ryan brought a girl home, we’d never get anything done.

James

Process of elimination: It wasn’t me, it wasn’t Luke, and Beau was at my place till 3am previewing the new Pedro Pascal Sequel movie.

Luke