Erotic Short Stories 2

by Lynn Hagen

  

  Erotic Short Stories, Volume 2

  [Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection: Contemporary, Alternative, MM, HEA]

  FAKE IT ‘TIL YOU’RE FIRED:

  Derek didn’t want to fill in for his twin who had broken his leg. What did he know about office work? Not a dang thing. But this was his twin’s dream job, so Derek pretended to be Chad, until the new boss figured out the ruse. He hadn’t even lasted a day.

  BLUE SMURF:

  Drunk and looking to get laid, Sonny and his friend Mitch wander into a lounge filled with straight men. All Sonny wanted to do was shake up the place and have a bit of fun. What he hadn't expected was to run into the hottest man he’d ever laid eyes on.

  CRAVING HIS KISSES:

  Ever since meeting Snob…no Richard. That’s his name. Since meeting Richard at a lounge he is all Mitch can think about. When his friend invites him out, Mitch decides to go, unknowing that he would run into the very man he’s been dreaming about.

  GEEK LOVE:

  Michael isn’t a partier. He’s more into books than booze. When his boss invites him to a dinner party, Michael reluctantly accepts. Little did he know that his boss’s grandson would be there to shake things up and show him how to let loose in the library.

  MAGIC FINGERS:

  Jason works two jobs to not only support himself, but his nana. While at his office job, the man of his dreams walks in and Jason practically throws himself at the guy. A meeting room, a massage, and an invitation later and Jason is spoiled rotten.

  Length: 27,400 words

  LYNN HAGEN'S

  EROTIC SHORT STORIES

  VOLUME 2

  Fake It ‘Til You’re Fired

  Blue Smurf

  Craving His Kisses

  Geek Love

  Magic Fingers

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Lynn Hagen's Erotic Short Stories, Volume 2

  Copyright © 2019 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64243-994-6

  First Publication: September 2019

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2019 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at legal@sirenbookstrand.com

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

  You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

  For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  LYNN HAGEN’S EROTIC SHORT STORIES, VOLUME 2

  Fake It ‘Til You’re Fired

  Blue Smurf

  Craving His Kisses

  Geek Love

  Magic Fingers

  LYNN HAGEN’S EROTIC SHORT STORIES, VOLUME 2

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2019

  Fake It ‘Til You’re Fired

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No, I just broke my leg.” Chad tried to scoot up in the bed, but his arms wobbled as he grunted. We were in the emergency room and my twin was trying to sit up in the bed, but failing miserably as he sighed and finally gave up. “Come on, Derek. You have to do me this solid.”

  We were waiting for his release papers, and the doctor was taking forever. I hated hospitals. They always gave me the creeps. There were sick people with god-knew-what diseases, and the disinfectant smell made me nauseous.

  “What do I know about office management?” I paced in front of Chad’s bed, biting my thumbnail. “I cut hair for a living. The only thing I would know how to do in an office setting is fetch coffee.”

  I was gonna cave. I always did when it came to my twin. But I had to try and wiggle my way out of this. Chad’s plan had disaster written all over it.

  “Do you know what I went through to land this gig?” Chad looked on the verge of a meltdown. I felt bad for him, but there was no way I could pull this off. “It’s my dream job, Derek. I just need you to cover for me until my leg heals.”

  I already knew what Chad had gone through to get this job. He’d fretted over it for weeks, bugging the shit out of me by whining on the phone every few days that no one had called him after his second interview.

  “You know I’ll screw it up.”

  “We’re exact replicas,” Chad argued. “They’ll never know it wasn’t me in the office.”

  “They’ll know,” I argued right back. I couldn’t let Chad talk me into this. I had my own job I had to deal with, and although I knew Becky would give me the time off to cover for Chad, I wasn’t going to ask.

  “You know Microsoft Office,” Chad whined. “Besides, they’ll give you a break since you’re new. It won’t be that hard.”

  Riiight. Even as a newbie, there would be expectations that I wouldn’t be able to meet. I choked when the district manager came into my job. No way would I be able to face powerful men in an office setting. I’d probably pass out the first five minutes I was there.

  But I knew how important this was to my twin, and, damn it, I couldn’t let him down. “Okay, but if I get fired, don’t blame me. You’re the one who begged me to do this.”

  “Thank you!” Chad leaned forward with his arms wide but winced and sucked in a breath as he grabbed his leg.

  “How on earth did you break your leg painting?”

  “Clumsiness is in our DNA.” Chad gave the needless reminder. “I lost my footing on the ladder.”

  My twin was fabulous when it came to interior decorating. He’d truly missed his calling. But if there was a hair on the floor, he’d trip over it. Same with me. I’d broken my arm when I was ten. I’d been on the swing in the park, tried to jump off, and had gotten my arm tangled in the chain, resulting in a hairline fracture.

  That was the story of my life—running into doors, tripping over my shoelaces, cutting gum out of my hair, spilling coffee down the front of my shirt. The list was endless. I should have been born in a bubble.

  “I’ll text you the details. Make sure you’re on time tomorrow morning.”

  I gave Chad a teasing salute then helped him to his car when the nurse finally came in and gave him his discharge papers.

  Chad complained the entire ride that my backseat was uncomfortable, how my driving was too fast, and that he hadn’t been laid in a month.

  I wasn’t sure what the last thing had to do with anything, but I ignored him. I couldn’t help it my car was small, but I liked it. It was pink, had fuzzy seats, and was a hybrid. I was the queen of eco-awareness. I recycled everything, joined rallies for earthly causes, and even talked my salon into donating the hair we cut to help absorb oil spills in the ocean.

  A
fter I helped Chad into his apartment and made sure my brother had something for dinner, I headed home. If I was going to get Chad fired on my first day, I needed my beauty sleep.

  When I arrived at my apartment building, I groaned. All the spots in the parking lot had been taken. I had to park two blocks away before heading to my unit. My neighbor Brick Duggan was a slime ball who always tried to hit on me. I prayed Brick didn’t corner me in the hallway like he did most nights. Brick was hot man candy, but he was also a straight-up jerk who knew he looked good and thought everyone in the universe wanted him.

  I would rather have sex with a cactus than let Brick anywhere near me. Unfortunately, for reasons I couldn’t understand, Brick thought I wanted to sleep with him, so he tried relentlessly to get me to come over.

  Fat chance in hell that would ever happen.

  When the elevator doors slid open, I did a quick head check like I was on a recon mission, making sure Brick wasn’t lingering in the hallway. I spotted Mrs. Hathaway, my elderly neighbor. She was the sweetest woman on the planet, reminded me of my grandmother, and always looked out for me.

  When she saw me, she smiled. Once again she’d forgotten her dentures. “He’s not out here,” she said as she headed my way. “Brick just went into his unit.”

  I gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for having my back.”

  “Anytime, dear.” She patted my cheek and wandered away. Mrs. Hathaway was like ninety. I would swear she’d come with the building. That was how long she’d been here. She knew every resident and all the latest gossip. I had a suspicion she wasn’t as senile as she pretended to be, either.

  I dug my keys from my pocket, hoping I could get into my unit before Brick came back outside. No such luck. The guy must’ve been staring out his peephole. His door swung open, and he stepped into the hallway. He wore gym shorts that were way too tight and a T-shirt seven sizes too small. His body was ripped, all muscles and golden tan.

  If he wasn’t such an asshole, I’d have jumped on that months ago.

  “Hey, Derek.” Brick wiggled his brows. “Just wanted to let you know I was home if you wanted to come over for a drink.”

  I shoved my key into the keyhole, rolling my eyes. “I don’t think there’s enough room in your unit. Your ego takes up most of the space.”

  He laughed as if I was joking. I wasn’t. Brick walked toward me, kissing one of his biceps, but I hurried inside and slammed the door closed. Brick knocked, but I ignored him as I dropped onto the sofa. Mr. Jingles leaped onto my lap, meowing at me before settling on my thighs.

  “It's been one of those days,” I said as I petted his silky white fur. I looked at the clock and groaned. It was already after seven. Chad’s new job was on the opposite side of town. Rush hour was already a bitch in the Heights, so I knew I would need to get out there at least a half-hour early if I was going to make it on time.

  After making sure Mr. Jingles’ bowl was filled and he had plenty of water, I cleaned his litter box, got into my pajamas, and climbed into bed. The problem was I wasn’t tired. I never went into work before noon, so that allowed me to stay up late, most of the time partying with my two closest friends, Sonny and Mitch.

  Chad owed me big time for this.

  * * * *

  I wasn’t sure if the alarm didn’t go off or if I just didn’t hear it, but I woke up a half-hour late. Fuck. I was surprised I’d even woken up so early. I felt like the walking dead as I stumbled into the shower. Not even the lukewarm water had the ability to wake me. I dragged my ass to the kitchen and downed a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine did the trick.

  It didn’t. I was still getting ready with only one eye open. If I didn’t love Chad so much, I’d crawl back into bed and forget the world existed for a few more hours. But I couldn’t, and that put me in a foul mood. All I wanted to do was lie back down.

  When I opened my closet and realized I had no suits, I cursed. I should’ve thought of that when I was at Chad’s. I could’ve borrowed a few from him. But I hadn’t, so all I had that looked professional was a dang tie from a funeral I’d attended a few years ago. It would have to do.

  After grabbing my cup of coffee and hurrying out the door, I groaned when I remembered I’d parked a mile away. This was a morning from hell, and it hadn’t even started yet. I hoped like hell this wasn’t a prelude to what my day would be like.

  The traffic was unbearable. Stop-and-go, plenty of honking, and near misses before I pulled into the employee parking lot of Summer and Associates. As I stared up at the tall, glass-and-chrome building, it dawned on me that I hadn’t asked Chad what kind of business this was. Chad might’ve told me over the few weeks he’d sweated getting this gig, but I hadn’t paid him any attention.

  Now I wished I had.

  “This’ll be the shortest job he’s ever had,” I grumbled as I got out of my car and headed to the main lobby, my to-go cup of coffee in my hand. Chad had texted me the details late last night. I knew I had to go to the top floor and ask for Mr. Kershaw.

  There was a crowd already gathered at the bank of elevators. When I got on the first available one, I noticed everyone around me wearing power suits. I felt completely underdressed in my charcoal slacks, navy-blue button-down shirt, and black tie. Truthfully, my clothes were making me squirm. I wasn’t used to dressing this way. I liked my skintight jeans and T-shirts.

  I couldn’t imagine dressing like this all the time. I would break out in hives if I had to, but I could do a few weeks for my twin, although the starch in my shirt was making me itch, or was I really breaking out in hives?

  The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and when the guy next to me moved to get out, he knocked the cup in my hand. The lid popped, and my coffee spilled down my shirt. “Fuck!”

  The stranger got off, no apology, not even a backward glance.

  “Fucking prick!” I yelled as the doors slid closed. I brushed at my shirt, but it was useless. Now I had a big brown stain to wear all day.

  By the time I reached the top floor, the elevator was empty. I took a moment to breathe before the doors slid open and I stepped into the fanciest office setting I’d ever seen. Bright lights, a lot of glass, and tan wood mixed with chrome. It was like a bigwig corporate office, and I was ready to turn back around and haul ass back to my car.

  “May I help you?”

  A woman who looked to be in her mid-forties approached with a stern frown on her face. I tugged at my collar, feeling as if it was suffocating me. Sweat trickled down my back as I smiled. “I’m Der—Chad Wolfe. I’m supposed to start for Mr. Kershaw today.”

  Fuck. I’d almost given my name instead of my twin’s. I needed to be more careful. I anticipated getting fired the first day, but not in the first five minutes.

  She looked me up and down as if I were some kind of bum off the streets coming into the office to beg for change. I swear that was how she gazed at me—slightly curled lip, scathing look in her eyes. She finally nodded. “Follow me, Mr. Wolfe.”

  I was taken to a corner part of the offices. The desk was nice, and I took a seat, but my morning wouldn’t go as smoothly as Chad had predicted. The woman handed me a file. “This is Mr. Kershaw’s schedule. Memorize it.”

  I sat there for the next fifteen minutes listening to her drone on about office policies and what Mr. Kershaw liked and disliked. I was trying to remember it all so I could pass the knowledge onto Chad, but I knew I wouldn’t. It was just too much crap to memorize. If she kept talking much longer, I just might find an ice pick and stab it into my ear.

  When she was done with her longwinded speech, she looked down her nose at me. I hated the condescending expression in her eyes. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Do you think you can handle this job?”

  No. “Yes.”

  She spun and walked away, leaving me sitting there clueless. I looked at the phone on my desk and knew I was in over my head.

  There were so many buttons, and I had no clue what they were all for. One of the buttons
was blinking.

  I bit my lip, wondering if I should try to figure out if that call was for Mr. Kershaw. To hell with it. I took a chance. I snatched the phone into my hand, hitting the blinking button, and said, “Summer and Associates. Mr. Kershaw’s office.”

  See, I could be a professional. Go me.

  “Where the hell is Carla?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I have no idea who Carla is.”

  “This is Mr. Bruske. Those contracts should’ve been at my office an hour ago! Put Mr. Kershaw on the line now!”

  If the guy had stormed into my salon acting this way, I would’ve read the jerk the riot act. I had to bite my tongue but said, “One moment while I transfer you.”

  I stared at the army of buttons on the phone, having no clue how to transfer a call. My gaze roamed over the base until I saw Mr. Kershaw's name. Sending up a prayer, I hit the button.

  I heard a dial tone.

  Shit!

  I’d just hung up on the guy. My heart thundered as I tried to figure out what I should do. Luckily the number had displayed on the phone, and thankfully I had a damn good memory. I tried to call Mr. Bruske back, but it was obvious I needed to get an outside line first.

  Double crap.

  I gave up trying to figure the phone out and hung it up. Instead, I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and dialed. “Bruske and Bruske Attorneys at Law,” a woman said.

  Shit. There was two Mr. Bruskes. I wasn’t sure which one to ask for. So I explained to the woman on the phone that somehow the call had been disconnected and told her what one of the Bruske men had wanted.

  “You want Alexander,” she said. “Hold the line while I transfer you.”

  I jumped up from my desk, hurrying to Mr. Kershaw’s office. I’d never laid eyes on the guy and hoped my temporary boss wasn’t as big a prick as Mr. Bruske had been. I rushed into his office then turned back around, hurrying to the door where I stood and knocked on the open door.