Gripping my shaft, I close my eyes and all I see is Dalia. Her perfect tits, her plump ass, her wet lips. My mind runs wild with dirty thoughts, imagining her mouth wrapping my cock, and her tits in my face.
Stroking my length, I let my imagination take over.
Laying my head back, I picture Dalia sucking my dick. My tip disappears into her mouth, and her cheeks hollow as my cock hits the back of her throat.
With smooth strokes, I work from base to tip, moving faster and faster. Pumping harder, squeezing firmer, knowing just how good it could feel to actually be inside her.
She swirls her tongue around the tip, licking the precum, and moaning as she drives her mouth back down with so much force I hit the back of her throat.
Squeezing my dick, I relax my body deeper into the chair, knowing how badly I want to fuck her. I want to bend her over my desk, and slam my cock in her wet heat while I listen to her scream for more.
Her pussy will milk me, it'll drip to just have a taste of my cock. Dalia won't be able to walk when I'm through with her.
My balls tighten as the orgasm starts to build. Pumping faster and faster, I give one last jerk of my hand, and hot come spills all over my knuckles. My dick pulses as I grab a few napkins and clean myself up. A thin sweat coats my forehead and I'm breathing heavily.
I feel better, more relaxed, and I know I have to keep myself under control. But, I'm never going to make it. Dalia Greene is going to destroy my very existence. And why? Because I can't stop thinking about her.
Groaning, I slam my palms to my forehead.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why is this girl affecting me this way?
Dragging my hands down my face, I look over at the wall of pictures, my eyes landing on the one of me and my sister with our parents the day we graduated from high school.
Fuck! Sandy will fire her in a second if she fucks any of this up!
And if she ever found out that there's even a sliver of attraction between us, my sister will make her life a living hell.
Sandy doesn't tolerate any bad behavior, especially when it comes to our business. Relationships, undermining direct orders from either of us, you're gone.
When it comes to me, she's even worse. Sandy and I are twins, but according to her, she came out first, so she's always been protective of me in an older sister kind of way. Back in high school, Sandy became obsessive with the Dalia, actively searching for ways to hurt her. And somehow, she got me involved.
Regrets are a horrible curse. They stay with you, forcing your brain to actively search for ways around the damage.
But I could never fix what happened. All I could do was hate myself for it.
Regrets are a pain that never leave. I still feel the same about it, even all these years later. And if I'm lucky, maybe I'll get the chance to make things right.
I'm not sure if Sandy's up to something, but if she is, I'm not going to look the other way.
Not anymore.
4
Dalia Senior year
“Fuck, it's broken. What am I going to do now?” My skin pales as my eyes turn owlish. “I can't go out there like this?” My voice borders on frantic as I shake my hands at my sides. “I want to make a good impression.”
“It's going to be fine, Dalia, trust me. Come here, let me fix it.” Kira grabs my shoulders and spins me to face the mirror. Pulling the loose button off, she tugs a pin from her hair and starts to work it through the buttonhole. “My mom taught me this trick. It works beautifully. No one will ever know it's broken.”
I feel the fabric as it pulls tight, then loosens, and then tight again. “There,” she says, smoothing her hands down over my shoulders. “All better, check it out.”
Looking in the mirror, I twist so I can see the back of the dress. “Oh my God, thank you, you're a life saver.”
She hops down off the sink and smirks. “I know.” Leaning back against the porcelain basin, she picks up my portfolio and thumbs through it. “I don't know why you're so worried. Look at these, they're incredible. I mean seriously, you're like a female Andy Warhol. If any of these companies out there don't want to hire you now, or draft you for after college, they're crazy.”
“These aren't scouts for football or something, Kira, it's graphic design. I'm not going to get drafted or anything.”
“Well, whatever the hell it is, they'd be stupid not to snag you now while they can.” Passing me the leather folder, she pushes the bathroom door open, and we both head into the hall.
“Yeah, well, fingers crossed they think the same as you do. These companies have big expectations, they're always looking for something special.” I step back, about to turn and head into the gym for the job fair, when I'm hit from behind.
“Hey, watch it!” Sandy says, lifting her head. Her expression is hard at first, then quickly changes. Her lips flare and her eyes turn to glass. “Oh, Dalia, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you.”
I flash her an apologetic smile, like I'm at fault too. “Sorry, I didn't see you there.”
“It's fine, no worries.” She gives me her signature fake ass grin as her gaze drops to my hands. “What's that you got?” she asks.
“Oh, it's nothing,” I say, trying to slip it behind my back.
Sandy throws her arm out, snatching quickly before I can hide it away. “It doesn't look like nothing.”
“It's just my portfolio.” I attempt to take it back with a fast grab of my own, but she turns away from me and I only
