Chapter 26

Dylan sat at his desk and his thoughts drifted to Gemma as they seemed to be doing more often than he liked. She was an enigma and occupied his thoughts far too much lately, and he just didn’t get it. How come a hard-up cleaner, and an ex-con at that, had him sniffing round like a randy dog? He didn’t do desperate.

He’d texted her earlier enquiring how she was as she’d been sick the previous day, but as always her replies to his texts were slow to come, and even though he kept glancing at his phone, he knew she wouldn’t respond while she was at the gallery. She never texted during work hours, well not him anyway. Was somebody already sorting her? He wouldn’t be surprised. Even in the chain-store clothes she wore, she had an air of finesse and class. His dick twitched at the image of her in the tight cleaning dress she wore at the gallery each night. It was a plain dowdy black overall, which on the other girl looked exactly what it was. But on her, it clung to her generous breasts and nipped-in waist. Not an ounce of fat on her. He loved the shape of her tits and longed to rip the dress off her and bury his face in those pert beauties. He loved generous breasts in a female. Skinny bitches did nothing for him.

He checked his phone again. Still no reply.  It was understandable she was working hard to meet the parole conditions so wouldn’t want Ingrid to catch her texting. One word from him or Ingrid and she’d be out, but surely she realised that was unlikely to happen? Okay, he was the boss, but she could let her guard down a bit, particularly as he’d made it clear he was interested. Far too interested really. Despite that though, she kept her head down and diligently carried out her work, which not only irritated him, it fascinated him.

He unlocked a drawer and took out the file he had on her. He knew all there was to know about her, so why he was checking it again, he wasn’t sure. She’d already explained to him how her head had been turned by an older bloke that led to her stealing money and ending up in jail. She’d been stupid and berated herself for that, but he had a degree of sympathy. Part of the passage of youth was making mistakes. He only had to look at himself getting Alicia pregnant when they were both only twenty and the consequences of that. And then there was Henry and his drug taking which he didn’t condone, and sincerely hoped that now he was clean, he’d stay that way, but again youth played a part in the choices Henry made.

But he wasn’t actually bothered about Gemma’s past, or the fact she’d been in jail. It was the here and now he was interested in. Most women would jump at the chance to be with Dylan Rider, and his sensible head told him to move on to someone else instead of pursuing her. The trouble was, he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted her. And the frustration of her keeping him at arm’s length was getting to him. Surely she must be gagging for it having been locked up for so long?

The thought again of someone else sorting her, made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want anyone else screwing her. He’d been going home for lunch trying to make headway with her. He’d regressed to almost being an adolescent trying to impress her with humorous stories and antidotes that painted him in a good light. Seeing her each day fired him up for more, and images of her invaded his sleep, so each morning a regular wank was the first task of the day. And it didn’t stop there either, just a sniff of her within his vicinity, had him hard.

The only certainty he had was his attraction to her was reciprocated. He knew enough about women to know that. But she resisted him and he found that bloody frustrating. He didn’t normally have a problem getting a woman into bed. Some gave a bit of a chase and the run-around, but invariably they gave in. Gemma hadn’t though. His patience was wearing thin, and looking at the photos of her in the file, his cock was rock hard again. He really needed to fuck her and get all of this nonsense out of his system. He could move on then to someone more receptive to him, so he didn’t have to carry on this juvenile chasing behaviour.

He adjusted his trousers to accommodate the tightness. He could do with tossing it off, but didn’t fancy a hand job in the office.

A gentle knock interrupted his train of thought, and Ingrid poked her head around the door.

“Anything I can get you?” she asked demurely.

He knew what she meant. It was what she always meant, and right now, she was going to get it. If her husband couldn’t oblige, he could.

“Yes, come in, Ingrid, and lock the door behind you.