Anonymous Desires_Isai and Ryker_Part Three Read online

  Anonymous Desires

  Isai and Ryker

  Part 3

  A.D. herrick

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, place or theory is in no way intended or to be inferred as fact or reference.

  The work is the singular property of the Author, and may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission, unless as part of a Review, Interview or Public push of the work and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Contains adult situations. 17+ only

  Cover Design by A. D. Herrick

  Copyright ©2018 Herrick

  All rights reserved

  “The human soul is hungry for beauty; we seek it everywhere - in landscape, music, art, clothes, furniture, gardening, companionship, love, religion, and in ourselves. No one would desire not to be beautiful. When we experience the beautiful, there is a sense of homecoming.”

  John O'Donohue

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  RYKER

  CHAPTER ONE

  I felt like a fool.

  An idiot.

  A monster.

  What was this woman doing to me?

  The way she broke me down, making me doubt everything I ever knew to be true.

  What was it about her dark, rich chestnut waves that left me stumbling after her like an addict in need of a fix?

  Closing my eyes, I can almost feel the silkiness of her thick, chocolate tresses slipping between my fingers. I could smell the rosemary and mint shampoo she used, lingering like a ghost in the air. Just the notion had my cock straining against my zipper. I groaned in memory of the way her lips felt against mine.

  Letting my head fall back against the chair I allowed the flashback of our last night together to play through my mind.

  Her eyes, so wide and frightened, held me captive. The deep moss green mingled with a golden honey brown. The way her chest heaved in a mixture of pleasure and panic.

  She reminded me of a woodland nymph, her chocolate hair fanned out around her amongst the leaves and moss. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the flecks of Amber and honey sparkling against the deep forest green. Her lips lined in red, screaming to be kissed.

  The word love flitted through my mind but I quickly bashed it away. It wasn’t love that had me feeling this way. It was my cock talking for me. My cock loved the way she felt, her velvety warmth wrapped around my member. Love. True love. The type of love where hearts were involved was for fools.

  It was the way she made me feel, her absolute submission to me, which had my mind in a quandary. The way her body reacted to mine as though it were made just for me.

  Her reaction fed the monster in me.

  Her lower lip trembled, begging to be bitten. She was a frightened doe and a taunting succubus all wrapped into one. She tested my limits, pushing me with every thunderous beat of her heart. The pulse in her neck thrummed to life, begging for my lips. Each shaky breath she took caused my cock to throb to life.

  The way her back arched, her body begging for my touch, I played her like a fine instrument. My fingers nimbly plucked at her strings, calling forth the most beautiful symphony of her moans and cries of ecstasy.

  She left me enraptured.

  A slave to her body.

  I was a madman with only one goal in mind - make her mine. I wanted to fulfill her every fantasy for she was the embodiment of mine. It was as though the gods crafted her specifically for me. Every curve of her body was made with my hands in mind. The smooth column of her neck designed for my lips and every cry spilled from her lips orchestrated to bring me the greatest pleasure. She was a goddess come to life, the personification of Aphrodite.

  The leather of my chair creaks as I shift in my seat to adjust my slacks. My cock strains to be set free. It begs for one more taste of her forbidden fruit, yearns for her rich red lips wrapped in a perfect oh around my shaft. The throbbing of my balls as they tighten in anticipation has been a constant reminder of the way her tight, perky ass forms the most beautiful shape when she’s bent over. Like a fresh ripe apple, sweet and juicy.

  She was a vision.

  A Masterpiece.

  But she was off limits.

  She was my employee.

  An innocent.

  I had no right to claim her. I had no right to steal her innocence. I had already taken the most precious gift she had to offer and it killed me.

  How I took her that first night. The way I worked her body over. Her flesh malleable, the glorious stripes she wore on her ass – my stripes.

  It was my mark she wore for days after. It was me she thought of every time she sat down. It was my selfish need to devour her that left her weeping on my doorstep in the dead of night. It was my self-loathing and boorish behavior that left her in a constant state of confusion.

  The thought sickened me and yet my cock grew even harder. I was a sick depraved bastard, getting off to the stolen innocence of one of my personal. Taking sick satisfaction in the salty tears that fell down her rosy red cheeks.

  That’s why I had to protect her. I had to keep her safe - away from me. I was no good for her. I would only destroy what innocence she had left. I was a black vortex, devouring everything in my path.

  No matter how many times I told myself I wouldn’t see her again, I somehow found myself in her vicinity. I’d gone so far as to utilize an office on the very same floor she worked on. I caught myself walking past her desk, taking the long way around to the elevator. My eyes were glued to her every move.

  She was my kryptonite.

  My salvation.

  My addiction.

  I needed something to take the edge off. I needed a distraction before I grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back to my office and bent her over my desk. My fingers twitched with the notion. I was at the end of my very short, very taut rope.

  “Mr. Kane, Your one o’clock is here.” My assistant’s voice rings out through the room from the phone's intercom, pulling me back to the present.

  Her nasally high pitched voice is the bucket of ice I need to cool my carnal imagination. My cock immediately goes flaccid, my balls releasing their hold. With the release of pressure, my slacks lay flat but the burning ache for Isai remains, deep in the pit of my stomach. It was an ache no amount of antacid could cure.

  “Send her in,” I call back in a short clipped tone before slamming the receiver of the phone down onto its cradle.

  My ire with Isai has seeped into my work leaving me more short-tempered than before. It wasn’t the woman who infuriated me but the situation I found myself in. Unable to have the one thing I so desperately wanted. The inability to master this woman, enslave her to me. If my employees notice the sudden change in my demeanor, then they don’t say anything. Not that I would expect them to. I’m Ryker Fucking Kane, CEO of Kane Holdings; no one says anything untoward to me.

  I ignore the sound of the door opening. I know who it is, even if Elise hadn’t made the announcement. The rich floral scent of Jessica’s perfume hits me square in the face. Immediately I regret my decision to call her. My flaccid cock is in agreement, he sits idle in my pants not even bothering to lift his head in salutation.

  Guilt and regret sit like a stump in my stomach.

  I’d made a mistake.

  “I knew you would come back to me.” Her sultry voice, full of confidence, once upon a time had the ability to t
urn my cock as hard as iron. It does nothing for me now. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the gentle sway of her hips. The motion once hypnotizing, falls flat.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel.”

  Standing abruptly, I take long strides around the desk, eager to extract her from my space, my legs eating up the distance between us, a sneer forming on my lips as I take in her ensemble.

  Jessica’s dressed in a skin-tight red leather mini dress that matches the bold red of her lips. The dress, if it can be called that, leaves little to the imagination. If she steps the wrong way anyone could see her religion. The smirk cresting her lips tells me she doesn’t care.

  She teeters slightly on skyscraper stilettos, looking up at me expectantly, her eyes begging to be punished. All I can feel for the woman in front of me is an unmeasurable shame.

  She resembles nothing of the girl I once knew, the quiet librarian with her plaid skirts and white smock, her hair slicked back in a tight bun, her thin wired glasses perched on the end of her nose. She was the mask of innocence with a penchant for kink. She was once a vision, a wet dream come to life, yet now she looks washed up, baring little to no semblance of the woman I once knew.

  Now, standing before me, she looks like a common streetwalker. Her platinum blonde hair, heavily teased gives the illusion of tumbling out of the sheets. Her cornflower blue eyes that once sparkled with intelligence are now heavily lined and look dull and lifeless.

  With tight-pressed lips I grip her arm, leading her toward the door, ignoring the question on the tip of my lips. What happened to turn such a lively woman into a lifeless shell of her former self?

  “What are you doing? I thought we had plans.” I ignore her. “What? Don’t you like it?” Stumbling after me she motions with her free hand toward the scraps of material that hug her body.

  “You look like a hooker.” Jessica’s head jerked back as if I had slapped her.

  “I did this for you.” Yanking her arm from my grasp she stumbles back on her heels. I don’t reach for her. Instead, I watch as she rights herself, jaw ticking with anger.

  “You shouldn’t have.” Reclaiming her arm, I urge her out of the office. I’m mortified for her. Gritting my teeth I try not to think of the spectacle she made of herself walking through the building and into my office. Already I can hear the rumors flying, my ears red with watercooler gossip.

  The moment we cross the threshold of my office she’s on me, her claws grabbing for me as though I were a lifeline. “So sweet of you to walk me out.” Jessica purrs, her hand fisting my tie, teasingly tugging me down toward her for a kiss.

  Mouth gaping open, I flounder for a response to her about-face. Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Isai. The look on her face a mixture of shock and horror, her eyes filled with hurt.

  Ripping my tie out of Jessica’s grip I stare daggers down at her. A slick calculating smile slithers across her face.

  Jessica pats my chest with a condescending smirk. “It looks like my work here is done. I’ll see ya around.” I stared down at her, slack-jawed. “Don’t worry; the agency will bill you for the time, even if you couldn’t get it up.” She calls over her shoulder loud enough to capture the attention of the people milling around us. The click-clacking of her heels fades with every step she takes, giving small comforter.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  The woman was a walking disaster.

  I can feel the eyes of those around me, like laser pointers on my back. But it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s the petite brunette whose woeful eyes haunt my dreams. I turn to face her, an excuse ready on the tip of my tongue, but she’s gone.

  With a roar I storm back into my office, the door slamming so hard it rocks the hinges. I couldn’t go after her if I wanted to. The eyes of everyone in the office would be on us drawing much-unwanted attention. Jessica’s arrival had surely spread through the building by now. Tugging my hand’s through my hair I swore.

  “Fuck.” Ripping at my tie I toss the offending material to the other side of the office.

  What the fuck? If I thought I had screwed up before I was wrong. There was no coming back from this.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two days.

  It’s been two days since I last saw Isai. Her hazel eyes haunt my dreams. The pain and hurt I saw reflected in them ate at my soul. Her scent lingers in the air, a ghost of time passed.

  I keep asking myself why I care.

  Why does the opinion of this woman mean so much to me? Why do I feel like my every action is being weighed against her judgment?

  It’s been two days since I’ve been to the office. Two days of isolation, locked in the comforts of my home where I can wallow in my own misery without the watchful eyes of the office gossips.

  Two days to sort out the mess of conflicting emotions warring within me, the tangled thoughts that fill my mind.

  I was reckless, acting on instinct and desperation. Ringing Jessica up had been a gross error of judgment. Why I thought I could wash away the effects of one woman with another is beyond me. I plead temporary insanity. That’s the only excuse I can conjure up that makes any remote sense.

  Firing up my laptop I stare at the ever-growing emails as they load. I try to find the passion I once held for business only I can’t seem to find a trace of it anywhere. I feel useless just lying around the house yet unmotivated to do anything about it.

  Slapping the screen closed I lean back in my seat, hands folded behind my head. I stare up at the ceiling searching for a fuck to give.

  My mind is a mess. I see the painful look Isai shot my way every time I close my eyes. Her pain echoes inside my chest.

  I don’t know how many times I’ve picked up my phone with the intent to call her. Elise didn’t even question when I requested Isai’s number before I left for the day. Of course, after having Jessica parade through the office wearing just enough clothing to avoid arrest, I didn’t think my assistant wanted to know any details of my request any further. I’d have to send her a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates for baring with me this long. I wouldn’t be surprised to arrive back at work with her resignation on my desk.

  Just thinking of my phone had it vibrating in my pocket. The soft quivering had been going on all day; I couldn’t find the will to care. I knew it wasn’t her calling, we hadn’t even swapped numbers. I’d silenced the ringer the day I walked out of the office, knowing I employed enough competent people to handle any emergencies that may crop up.

  Work was the farthest thing from my mind right now. I couldn’t concentrate when I had so many unreconciled emotions filtering through me.

  I’m falling apart.

  I’d swore I’d never let another woman affect me this way. I swore I would never allow myself to get in too deep. Yet here I am, pining after a woman I can’t have. Making myself sick over an event that never should have occurred.

  I knew the first night shouldn’t have happened, she was an employee. The moment she walked into the restaurant I should have walked away. But I couldn’t. What held me in place was the very same thing that had me walking by her desk daily. The woman was sinfully good looking.

  She had an innocent beauty about her that captured you. She was the type of woman you didn’t notice until you really looked at her, and I had stolen more than my fair share of glances.

  Her long chocolate hair lay in waves along her back, her eyes, shaped like almonds, a kaleidoscope of greens, browns, and rich honey. The soft flush of color on her cheeks, when I would catch her staring at me, sent a jolt through me. She screamed virtue, purity, an enticing mixture of corruptible innocence.

  She was intriguing, igniting a curiosity within me I didn’t know existed. When I saw her enter the restaurant I knew I had to stay. I had to see for myself that I hadn’t been the only one affected. I had to meet the woman who spoke so boldly to me through text, the woman so sure of herself, her desires, and her needs.

  The second night was a
mistake. No, mistake isn’t the right word. There is nothing about Isai Channing that can be misconstrued as a mistake. It was a lapse in sanity, on my part, for I surely had to be insane to dip my quill in the company ink a second time. But the intoxication of her scent, the heated look she threw my way. I was a goner.

  I had taken precautions to ensure it wouldn’t happen again by changing my schedule. I arrived at work earlier and stayed in my office working until the last of the occupants left the office. I tried to focus my attention on the new mergers we had coming in and spent my time on other floors.

  No matter how hard I tried to stay away, I would find myself on her floor. At first, it was an accident, exiting the elevator out of habit. But when I noticed her desk empty it became an obsession. I tried to convince myself I only noticed because it was my job to do so, but even I knew it was a lie. I took every opportunity I could to walk past her desk the first week back to work, her empty chair resting like a beacon. Every time I passed the vacant space I felt a stirring in my chest, a longing I knew shouldn’t be there.

  Hope flared alive in my chest seeing her at the bar; my eyes were drawn to her as if by magic, the leopard print skirt she wore hiked up her thighs, with her creamy legs on display, sent my heart hammering in my chest. The way the tight green shirt she wore hugged her body, making the green in her eyes shine like emeralds, I was lost in their depth. On anyone else, the outfit would have looked absurd, but on her, it was stunning - enticing. She resembled a naughty package left by Santa. A gift I couldn’t wait to unwrap with my teeth. She was the epitome of sex. A dream come to life. My ever desire placed before me.

  Stumbling over my feet I made my way to her. My body was drawn to her like a magnet. I was unable to turn away. I had to have her. I hadn’t realized how strongly the lack of her presence had affected me until she was right in front of me. An invisible tether pulling us together. She ignited a burn within me one only she could quench.