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Staring at the pictures of the launch reminded him of the hot reckless session he'd had with his assistant, especially the one taken before others had arrived; he had been staring at her, absorbing her sheer feminity. He had been doing that of late; reminiscing over that night, even when he had been balls deep into a patron at the club.

He had in fact got a private room with her because she was blonde and skinny, but she hadn't had those green eyes which were rare like pearls, nor had she possessed a mole on her face. Her skin had been white though, yet hadn't had that fragile quality which Clara Lynn exuded. 

And when she had moaned his name, back arched and breasts mashed against the glass wall, hers had been squeaky, lacking that sexiness which had almost driven him to fuck his assistant against the glass walls of the plaza, risking being captured by the reporters.

He was hard again, but no longer frustratingly so. Kissing those lips and relishing the fe