I nuzzle into my pillow, but just as I’m drifting into a dream, I’m jolted back to reality. I have to see Rich today. And no, there’s no avoiding himormy father. They’ll want answers. Rich will blame the break-up on my change in treatment. I’m not even sure I can defend myself. The two things may be linked some way or another.
I’m wide awake now, and the sky is lightening to sapphire. A wispy layer of snow fleeces some bare branches outside. Work problems aside, there’s romance in the air. I’m supposed to leave Finn alone, but I think it’s because he’s so turned on, he can’t sleep. He didn’t come a second time last night, and after the way he ate me to orgasm, I owe him. I salivate just remembering him in my mouth. Maybe I’d be welcome if I showed up to finish what I started.
I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. The cold wood floor has me scurrying to his bathroom. The door is cracked, and I push it open just enough to see his reflection in the mirror. His back is turned to me, his ass firm and delicious enough to take a bite out of.
Leaning one hand against the tile wall, the muscles of his other arm bulge.
He’s touching himself.
No, he’sjerking off.
His arm moves faster. He drops his head back, then turns slightly to grab the showerhead. He repositions it to beat right on his hair. Since there’s no steam at all, he must not’ve been exaggerating—the water’s cold.
I should return to bed, but I’m riveted and aroused by his grunts. The pained expression on his face. The tightening of his back muscles. His broad shoulders. My eyes travel down his body. Hiscock. It’s at least twice the length of his massive fist. He pumps his hand back and forth as water slicks his hair back from his face, its golden color turning his wet skin bronze. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and visibly holds in a groan, probably so he won’t wake me.
I could help him. Get down on my knees in front of him and offer hands and a mouth. I’ve never swallowed a man’s cum, but I’d do it, I would. I don’t move, though. I watch until the end. Until he curls one hand into a ball and paints the tile in front of him.
As turned on as I am, I hope this is the last time I see this. I want to be that hand, that lip, even that wall. I’d let him come in my mouth, but also on my back, my tits, my face—wherever he wanted.
My throat goes dry when a chilling realization hits me.
MaybeI’mthe sex addict in this relationship.
* * *
I love the office break room. My assistant could easily help maintain the steady stream of coffee into my mouth, but I look forward to my morning, late-morning, afternoon, and late-afternoon trips from my office to the break room. I mean, for God’s sake, it’s a no-work zone that’s lousy with my absolute favorite smell.Yep. Coffee.
Rich never comes to the break room, so my first mistake is assuming I’m safe there.
When he walks in, he glances at the mug in my hands. “Can you excuse us?” he asks Benny.
She grabs an apple. “I’ll be at my desk.”
I wait until she’s left the room to address Rich. “She doesn’t know. Nobody does. I don’t want to do this here.”
“Your dad wants to see us in his office.”
“Is it about business?”
“It’s going to happen, you know it is. Unless you change your mind about us, your dad’s going to get his two cents in.”
I put my mug down and walk past him. “It doesn’t help your case when you run to him first chance you get. This isn’tThree’s Company.”
We walk through the maze of desks. “I was worried,” he says in a hushed tone.
I don’t respond. Already, people at this company are too invested in my personal life since I’m the daughter of the founder and the girlfriend of the top-performing account manager.
In the elevator, Rich hands me the mug I just put down. “You’ll want this.”
I cross my arms to prove I don’t need looking after, but my rebellion only lasts one floor. I take the coffee and mutter, “Thanks.”
The doors open to the executive floor. My dad’s office is front and center. His secretary glances up as we approach. “He’s expecting you.”
My dad’s on the phone, pacing the length of the window in his office. He takes his eyes from Fifth Avenue to watch us enter. “The bottom line is, never date a woman who knows what you drive before she meets you, and a mouse in a cheese commercial will kill your brand, so forget about the rodent, would you?” he asks, completely serious, as if those are two perfectly normal statements to string together. I sit in a chair across from him, and Rich follows suit. “Uh-huh. Sure.” Dad laughs. “We’re happy to make that contribution, Bob. See you next week.”
Dad flings the phone aside as his smile flips upside down. That doesn’t tell me anything. His bullshit always clears the room as soon as we’re alone.
“He won’t give up the mouse,” I say. “We’ve all tried.”
