Designed by Fate: Older ManYounger Woman Instalove Novella by Cameron Hart

Author:Cameron Hart [Hart, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

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“Do you just keep a bunch of old dresses in your office?” Willow asks once we’re in the elevator of my building.

“Not exactly. I have prototypes, some half-finished ideas, fabric samples, sketches, that sort of thing.”

“Oh. So… I’m going to be wearing a half-finished idea?” She asks in the most adorably confused way ever.

I turn to her and press her into the wall with the weight of my body. One of my hands grips her hip to anchor her, while the other smooths her hair away from her face and neck so I can kiss her there.

Starting at the base of her neck, I pepper a line of kisses up her slender column and then pull her earlobe through my teeth, chuckling when she gasps.

“You, my honeybee, will be helping me finish those ideas.”

Willow’s breathing is shallow and her eyes are closed. “O-okay...”

I allow my hands to glide up and down her sides, mapping out her hills and valleys, and then I rest them on her soft, juicy ass and squeeze. Hard. She moans and instinctively rolls her hips, rubbing herself against my now painfully hard cock.

“Goddamn, woman, this body… fuck,” I mutter before taking her lips in a scorching kiss. Willow immediately opens up for me, our tongues wrestling for control.

The elevator dings, which makes Willow jump out of her skin, and then giggle. She buries her face in my chest and I kiss the top of her head before leading us out towards my office and studio space.

Willow was in here earlier this week, but I didn’t get a chance to show her the full workspace. I have my office with the desk, computer, phone, etc., but I also have a creative space where I can work on designs. It’s been far too long since I’ve done a project just for fun, or shit, just work with the materials myself. Anymore, I collaborate with other designers or simply approve of their work and then source the materials or negotiate prices and contracts with the client. I haven’t even done a proper fitting in years. I have other people who do that for me.

But seeing Willow in my workspace, her fingers absent-mindedly touching the fabric samples while the sunlight filters through her dark hair, I think I’ve found what I’ve been missing. It’s not just Willow, though obviously I’ve been missing her my entire life, but it’s this place. I haven’t been in here for months. I haven’t had my hands, my actual, physical hands, in a project in longer than I can remember. Even this new line for New York Fashion Week is phoned in.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s good work. But it’s trendy. It’s what people want. It’s edgy enough to get attention, but safe enough to secure sales. In other words, my designs have become formulaic. Boring. Expected.

Willow turns and looks at me over her shoulder, the sunlight through the large floor to ceiling windows angled just right so half of her face is in shadows and half is radiating with warm light.

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