Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  “Got to say, I’m glad you took me home. A quick fuck has never been high on my to-do list. I prefer a couple of hours at the very least...but you already know that, don’t you, Ev?” She looked around him again and asked, “Are you almost done? Some of us actually need to make proper use of the facility.”

  He stepped in toward her. “Don’t call me that, Blondie. And don’t give me this bullshit about being too good for a bathroom fuck. If I’d wanted you there, I would’ve had you. Besides, you’re not staff, so there’s no reason for you to be following me.”

  “This one didn’t have a line.” She made a small show of sniffing the air around him and scrunched up her nose. “Oh, she was very sweet, wasn’t she?”

  “Like candy.”

  Red chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom, and she stopped when she took in the scene in front of her. Her face was one of horror at getting caught.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” she said, stumbling over her words as she tried to explain herself.

  Reagan just shook her head. “Actually, sweetheart, it’s exactly what it looks like. Not that I blame you a bit. He can be quite convincing.” She pushed herself off the wall, towards the restroom, but as she passed Red, she stopped and leaned in so Evan had to strain to hear what she was saying to the girl. “It also helps that he’s got a large dick.” She winked and walked into the restroom, the door shutting firmly behind her, leaving Red shocked and him...oddly flattered.

  As he stood there in the wake of Reagan and the expectation of Red, he was annoyed—annoyed at the woman who had yet again gotten under his skin. It was as if she were gaining some kind of perverse pleasure from it, but he wasn’t sure she even knew what she was doing to him.

  She was tempting the beast, the one he tried and always failed to hide, and with every word and gesture, she incited the hunger, the ache he felt deep in the pit of his stomach.

  She didn’t want him; she’d made that much clear.

  And for that matter, he didn’t want her either. So why couldn’t he get her the hell out of his head?

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, there was a knock on Evan’s office door as he was setting up his desk, and Bill stuck his head in.

  “Getting everything all set up?” he asked before pushing the door open and walking inside.

  “Yeah. This computer is an asshole though.”

  Bill laughed. “I’m sure it is. I hate technology. That’s why I call IT.” He leaned against one of the visitor chairs. “Listen, we have a meeting today with one of our larger clients, and I’d like you to take over their account.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like there’s a catch coming?”

  “Welllll,” Bill said, scratching the back of his head as he drew out the word. “I do believe it’s a company you know quite well.”

  “How well?”

  “Ah…I’d say you’ve had close, personal relations with this particular establishment. Perhaps you could take Reagan with you. Let everyone see you’re back in the game.”

  At the mention of Ms. Spencer, Evan’s cock took notice and he reminded himself, Not an option.

  “I can handle it without Ms. Spencer. I’m sure she has a lot to juggle.” Including fuckwit’s dick from the other night.

  “I don’t doubt that, but I’d like her to show you the ropes.”

  “If you think that’s best.”

  Bill nodded. “I do. Meeting’s at eleven. Good luck with your, uh...technology situation. If you need any help with that, don’t call me.”

  An hour later, there was a much more perfunctory knock on his door, and before he could say, “Come in,” it opened and Reagan walked in.

  “You ready?”

  “I was told to be. I can follow simple orders.”

  “I remember,” she said knowingly. “Although you put up a good fight.”

  He shrugged into his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase. “You know, that night, I thought you were a gift sent to ease all my sexual urges. For a few hours, anyway. But now, I realize you’re just a spawn of the devil sent to make my life a living hell.”

  “Aw, you’re such a flatterer. I’ve barely made an effort, but now, I’ll make sure to kick it up a notch. Shall we go?” She didn’t wait for him to follow before heading down the hall.

  Walking behind this woman was becoming something of a habit for him. But he had to admit that, if he was going to follow anyone around, Reagan would be his first choice. The woman had a spectacular ass.

  She punched the down button for the elevator, and when it opened, they stepped in, both making sure to stand on opposite sides of the empty space. As the doors closed, the air inside hummed with tension.

  “Don’t get any ideas about this elevator,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

  With that comment, he could feel his palms sweat as the urge to touch her became an exercise in restraint.

  “Any ideas...such as? Your legs wrapped around my waist?” He took a step toward her. “My body pinning yours to the wall as you grind against my dick?” Another step. “Yeah, I’m not having those ideas.”

  Reagan angled her chin to him and lowered her lashes as if contemplating his suggestion. “Ordinarily, I would say no to an elevator quickie, but…” She placed her palm on his lapel, but before she could do anything more, he reached up and covered her hand, trapping it against his chest.

  “Say the word and I’ll hit the emergency button.”

  Time seemed to stop as they stood there, neither making the first move, and just as he was about to say, “Fuck it,” and lose himself in her, the elevator chimed.

  Reagan pulled her hand away, an almost-disappointed look on her face. “Time’s up.”

  “Saved by the bell?” he asked as the doors slipped open.

  “Saved from what?” She headed into the lobby and turned when he didn’t immediately follow. “You don’t scare me, Evan.”

  He thought about that as he stepped off the elevator and walked towards her. When they were eye to eye, he stated, “Maybe I should.”

  * * *

  “EVAN JAMES?” RON Whitehead, the CEO of Whitehead International, said in disbelief as he met them in the lobby. His expression showed his contempt for the man in front of him. “I thought you’d been run out of the business.”

  Evan lowered his outstretched hand and shoved it in his pocket. Not even two seconds in the door and he was being put on the defensive.

  “I’m sure ‘hoped’ is more like it,” he replied caustically.

  “That little stunt you pulled cost my VP half his retirement in the divorce.”

  “And how is Amy doing?”

  “You little shit—”

  “Evan...guys, guys,” Reagan cut in. “We’re here for business, not to rehash the past. Do you think you both could manage to put those issues aside for at least a half hour?”

  “If you think for one minute that anyone in this office, especially me, is going to trust our investments with him, you must be out of your mind. And so must Bill for that matter.”

  He’d been wondering the same fucking thing all morning. He didn’t expect to be forgiven for his transgressions, but there was a part of him that was hoping people had started to forget. Which, coming from him, was hypocritical, because if there was one thing he’d learned in childhood, it was that no one ever really forgot when they had been wronged.

  “Mr. Whitehead. Ron,” Reagan cajoled and took a step toward him. “Kelman and Whitehead have had such a wonderful relationship over the past several years. We only want to continue that. Evan’s proven to be able to predict where the profit margins will come in almost to the dollar. No one’s track record is better than his.”

  The man stayed silent, but the angry flush seemed to be fading from his face and neck.

  Reagan placed her hand on Ron’s arm and told him with a confident smile, “Plus, I’ll be working alongside him the whole time. You’re getting a two-for
-one deal.” She winked.

  Ron exhaled and patted her hand but still aimed a glare over at Evan, who held his look without flinching. After a few beats, Ron gave a curt nod and gestured for them to follow to his office.

  * * *

  “THAT WENT WELL,” Reagan said as they walked out of the building. “Well, aside from the ‘sleeping with the VP’s wife’ comment.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face her. “Is this the kind of shit I’ll have to deal with every time I go to a meeting? I mean, Jesus. Why did you and Bill even bother?”

  “We bothered because you’re good at what you do.”

  Letting out a disgusted sigh, he ran a hand over his face and back through his hair. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but fuck.”

  “Hey, you have an opportunity here. Don’t let anyone scare you away.”

  “They don’t scare me. They piss me off. I didn’t make those women spread their legs. They fucking begged for it.”

  “Yes, I can see why,” she said as she pushed the wind-whipped strands of hair out of her face. “You’re so...charming.”

  “Worked for you.”

  “I won’t deny that.”

  “Then get off my ass.”

  She leaned to the side, angling her head as if to get a peek at his behind. “But you have such a nice ass…”

  “You’re making it really fucking hard to behave,” he said, pointing accusingly at her. “So unless you want me to pull you inside the nearest hotel to work off my frustration, I’d lay the fuck off the flirting.”

  “Okay, okay,” she relented. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “By teasing me? Don’t insinuate anything you don’t plan to follow through on.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I think we both know I don’t have a problem with follow through.”

  “I’ve noticed, and so has every other man who’s ever laid eyes on you. It’s hard not to be drawn to someone like you. Femme fatale. That’s what makes you so dangerous.”

  A vixen smile spread across Reagan’s lips. “Oh, you have to stop with the compliments today. First, I’m the devil, and now, a femme fatale? I’m starting to think you like me.”

  “I don’t like anyone.” He smirked. “At least not for more than a night.”

  She let out a loud laugh. “You’re full of shit, Evan James. But I’ll let you keep that cocky exterior up in case anyone tries to see past it.”

  “How thoughtful,” he grumbled, moving by her to continue down the block.

  “Listen,” Reagan said, catching up with him. “Of course Ron’s still bitter about what happened. His VP’s like a brother, and after everything went down, he took some time off—a lot of time off—and their profits took a nosedive.” She paused, and he waited to see what sage advice she was about to spout out next. “Perhaps this can be your moment to...redeem yourself. I’m sure he’ll be much more forgiving once you make him twice what he lost.”

  When she nudged him playfully, he looked over at her with a skeptical expression.

  Maybe she was right. This was a chance to redeem himself, in both the business and personal worlds. He had to start somewhere—why not the easier of the two?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I SEE YOU survived your first day.”

  Evan looked up from packing his briefcase to see Reagan standing in the doorway of his office. “Barely.”

  “You do look a little worse for the wear, but at least you didn’t lose a contract.”

  When he quirked his eyebrows, she pointed back at herself.

  “Yep. My first day, and only three hours in.”

  He stared at her, wondering why she bothered with the small talk. He didn’t want to talk. His eyes zeroed in on her plump, red lips. No, talking was overrated.

  She cleared her throat, so his eyes flicked back to hers again.

  “Well, have a good night.” She turned and walked back out the door.

  He made sure to take a mental picture of the way her black, tailored pantsuit hugged her curves. “Night,” he said softly, long after she’d disappeared.

  As the silence of the office enveloped him, he sat there wondering about the woman who’d just left. Reagan Spencer—she was quite the enigma.

  At work, she portrayed the consummate business woman, and outside of it, the confident vixen he’d once bedded. He couldn’t help the curiosity that was eating at him to discover which persona was the real woman—or if it was a combination of the two.

  Either way, there was something about Ms. Spencer he just couldn’t shake.

  Maybe he could if he got a glimpse of who she was, where she came from...something, anything to turn his brain off from obsessing about her.

  * * *

  HE’D GOTTEN HOME quicker than he’d expected, and after removing his suit jacket, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of his white shirt. Feeling slightly less constricted, he moved to the liquor cabinet, where he poured himself a stiff drink.

  He went to his bedroom and sat down to his computer, deciding that surely a little digging couldn’t hurt. After taking a sip of the alcohol, Evan then placed it on the desk as he typed Reagan’s name into the search engine. The first thing that appeared was the website for Kelman Corporations.

  Great. Exactly what I’m not looking for. However…

  When he spotted an image of her under her bio—perfect, blond hair, that plump set of lips curved into a demure smile, and a string of fine pearls draped around her elegant neck, his cock stirred between his legs and he shifted in his seat. He hadn’t even set out on his search with that kind of reaction in mind, but one look at her succulent mouth and there was no way he couldn’t think of it around his hard dick.

  Deciding to try and stay on course, he clicked off the site. Maybe, if he could find some information on her, this fixation of his would get the fuck out of his head.

  Scrolling down the page, he spotted an article from the NYU Leonard N. Stern School of Business with her name highlighted. He clicked on it, opening up a page that displayed photos from students who’d traveled abroad, and there, once again, was Reagan. She was standing in front of the Taj Mahal, draped in a stunning, sapphire sari, and she looked young—probably early twenties if he had to guess.

  He went back and browsed through the next few links. She didn’t seem to have any social media profiles, and there was nothing going back any further than her college years. So he typed in another search, trying to find a clue as to where the woman had come from. His search became more frantic as the hours ticked by, his frustration rising.

  Christ, there was nothing. It was as if she’d come into existence at the age of nineteen.

  This is fucking useless, he thought as he pressed the heel of his palm to his throbbing cock. He let the cursor hover over the one button he’d been trying to avoid, but since he’d gotten nowhere while trying to travel the intellectual route, he figured he might as well get some fucking pleasure from his hard work.

  Once he’d clicked on ‘images,’ he watched as colored photos of Reagan appeared along with several black-and-whites. His eyes roved over them like a starving man, and as he scrolled down, he spotted it—the one image that finally had him reaching for the button on his pants. He double-clicked the photo, and as it filled his screen, his zipper came down too.

  Jesus Christ, the woman was fucking stacked.

  He’d known that the first time they’d met, especially after he’d peeled her out of that little black dress, but this photograph was something else. It was sophisticated sex. The kind that made his cock pound harder than anything else.

  Her hair was swept away from her face, and her head was turned toward the camera. He’d seen plenty of fuck-me eyes in his time, but the way her gaze called to him through the screen struck a nerve.

  She was the kind of woman you wanted on your arm at a business function so that, when you looked over at her, you had a goal, and that goal was to get
through the night so you could take her home and sink your cock inside her as she lay under you, begging for it.

  His hand palmed his cock and gave it a firm squeeze. Then he let his eyes take in the rest of her as he rubbed himself over the material.

  Her breasts were swelling up over the confines of the dress and seemed as though they were about to spill out for all to see, which made him wonder if the men that night had stood in front of her in the same state he was now.

  Fuck. There was no use pretending that this was not going where it was.

  He quickly rose up from his chair and pushed his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, toeing off his shoes before kicking them aside. As he stood in front of his computer, the light from the screen shone over him, and when he looked down to fist his cock, he could see the tail ends of his white dress shirt brushing his thighs.

  He spread the pre-come that was glistening at the tip of his cock down his hard length and stroked it roughly. He wasn’t in the mood to drag this out. She’d made him fucking crazy all day, and now, he’d use her the way he’d wanted to since she’d pushed his patience on the street hours earlier. She’d tempted and tormented him on purpose. He knew she had. And there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to put her in her place by branding her with his come all over that pretty face.

  He drew his fist down his straining flesh and tightly cupped his balls, pushing them up against his body. His head fell back for a second, and he closed his eyes, taking pleasure in the feelings that were coursing through him. The rush of adrenaline flowing through his blood had his eyes opening and focusing back on the woman on the screen—the woman who’d made him do this.

  He widened his stance and tugged himself more forcefully this time as he took in the look in her eyes once more. Fuck me, they said. Use me.

  A growl ripped through his body as he jerked himself harder toward the brink of orgasm.