All That She Needs

Part 25 : Asha

My mind was a dirty, filthy, smutty pit. I felt tainted. I couldn't shake the dream—it clung to me for three days, refusing to fade like usual. Normally, I forgotten my dreams within minutes, but this one lingered, looping endlessly in the corners of my mind.

Every time I remembered Liam's voice, a private shiver ran through me. "Say my name again," he had whispered, low and intimate. And then came the heat, the flush of my own response, words I could barely believe had come from me: "I want it in me."

But this one was the winner. "Fucking come for me, Asha. Come on my face." The needy, greedy sensation between my legs then returned, immediately dampening my panties.

Those illicit images from my dream kept popping into my mind like an uninvited guest who just wouldn't leave, fueling an infinite hunger that refused to take a hint. The more I tried to push it away, the stronger it became, as if it were determined to make itself comfortable on my mental couch. It didn't care that I was stuck in a meeting, nodding along while pretending to be engaged. My mind was clearly on a different wavelength, and it utterly gave no shit for the meeting agenda.

Sometimes, I had to desperately squeeze my legs together, trying to ease the growing ache that seemed to take on a life of its own. Each time someone around the table spoke, I fought to focus, but my thoughts kept wandering off like mischievous children on a playground. I shifted in my seat, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks. My colleagues were blissfully unaware of my relentless depraved thoughts, completely absorbed in their own discussions. Little did they know that while they were mapping out our annual budget, my mind was off on a very different adventure—one that was clearly not suited for the boardroom.

More than once, while pretending to care about the spreadsheets in front of me, I found myself plotting a way to escape this mental mayhem—and find him.

Fortunately, Liam was out of town on a business trip for the past few days. How did I know this? He texted me to let me know he'd be away for three days and was quite detailed about it. He informed me when he arrived at the airport, when he boarded the plane, and when he landed safely. Then he let me know when he checked into the hotel. He even filled me in on the boring meetings, the dinners, and the party his business partner threw for him. Plus, he sent pictures. I saw him for the first time in a suit.

And let me tell you, the guy looked dapper in a suit.

His texts were like a play-by-play of his trip, complete with his usual charm. "Just came back to the hotel. Miss you. Still two days to go until I see you," he wrote in one message, followed by a picture of him from the waist up, wearing a white undershirt, lying on the bed in his hotel room, looking both suave and exhausted. I couldn't help but sigh at the sight.

Scorching hot, oh my God.

In another message, he wrote, "Meetings are boring, but at least the hotel has a killer view. Wish you were here to enjoy it with me." He sent a photo of the skyline that left me both envious and a little wistful because that skyline reminded me too much of that dream.

He asked me how I was doing, and I struggled to find the right answer. I didn't want to lie, but I certainly couldn't tell him I was preoccupied with a sex dream about him that kept nagging at me and giving me a slight pinch between my thighs. So, I chose to stay silent.

In another message, he sent a selfie with his hair slightly tousled and a playful pout on his lips. "I'm not feeling well. Missing you too much. Please fly over and cure me."

I decided it would be best to mute his messages and ignore them completely. It wasn't good for my sanity, especially since I shamelessly stared at his pictures far too many times to be healthy.