Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  “All right, all right. We make a very good business team. I agree.”

  “There. Was that so hard?”

  As he strolled beside her down the sidewalk, he shook his head. “Be proud of me. I’m keeping my lips zipped.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing you keep zi—” She stopped herself before she could finish the sentence.

  “Hey, I’m trying here.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  You wouldn’t be sorry if you knew every way I’ve thought about fucking you.

  He felt a grin quirk his mouth as they continued back to the office in comfortable silence until the growling of her stomach had him stopping in his tracks. “Lunch?”

  She pressed a hand to her belly and glanced over at him. “It’s daylight, so eating together is allowed now, huh?”

  When he nodded, she pointed at a Thai restaurant across the street.

  “Does that work for you?”

  “I’m always down for hot and spicy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you are.”

  * * *

  HE FELT REAGAN’S gaze on him as he scarfed down his second helping of Pad Thai. Lowering his fork, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

  “I thought you said you liked hot and spicy?” she commented, spearing another forkful of red curry chicken. “That is neither.”

  “I like to switch it up. I’d get bored ordering the same dish every time.”

  “Hmm. That’s interesting. Says a lot about you.”

  “What can I say? I like a change now and then. Speaking of...” He wiped his mouth and put the napkin back in his lap. When he spoke again, his voice took on a more sober tone. “Thank you. You know, with the job, this account—everything, really. Many wouldn’t have given me a chance, and I would’ve deserved it. So...I appreciate it.”

  She regarded him thoughtfully, her head tilted to the side. “Everyone makes mistakes, Evan. It’s how you deal with the aftermath that counts.”

  Pretty sure she wouldn’t agree with any of my methods.

  Rubbing his jaw, he said, “I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job of dealing with anything lately.” He looked up at her with haunted eyes, his voice dropping down to barely a whisper. “I just don’t know how...” he trailed off, losing his nerve.

  “You don’t know how to what?” she prompted.

  He focused on her and decided that maybe it was time to open up to someone. “To stop. I just don’t know how to stop.”

  “I’m curious,” she said before taking a sip of her water. “You have a healthy...appetite, that much is clear, but so do a lot of people.”

  “Yourself included.”

  Her lips lifted in a half smile, and she nodded. “Myself included. So what’s the tipping point?”

  “The tipping point?”

  “Yeah. What makes it get out of control?”

  “I don’t think you wanna know.”

  She gave him a look that made it pretty clear what she thought of that, but in case he’d missed it, she told him. “I’m a big girl, Evan. I can handle it.”

  He knew what she was asking for, but he wasn’t sure she could handle that. How could anyone understand what he did when he thought no one was watching?

  She waited, an expectant look on her face, and he felt his defenses slowly crumbling. Shifting in his seat so he was leaning in close across the table, he lowered his voice and locked eyes with her, not giving her any chance to escape the intensity he knew was in his own.

  “Have you ever wanted something so much you’d do anything to get it?”

  “Of course.”

  “What if that meant giving up every good thing in your life for it? For a high that lasts only minutes before you’re chasing it again. When you’re down to the last few dollars in your bank account and you’d rather call a sex hotline instead of eat because your hand just isn’t getting you off, and the thought of going another minute without coming is what you think would kill you. When your first thought after finally landing a new job isn’t that you can pay your bills, but that you can finally afford the high-class hooker with the tightest cunt in Manhattan to fuck you instead? That’s the line. That’s the difference.”

  Reagan’s eyes had widened throughout his speech, and as she sat there staring at him with her mouth slightly parted, he wondered what the fuck she was thinking.

  “Hey,” he told her and reclined back with a shrug, trying to appear indifferent. “You asked.”

  Several seconds passed before she nodded and managed to pull herself together enough to ask, “Have you ever tried to stop?”

  He put his napkin on the table, and returned her stare, refusing to feel any more humiliation than he already did. “And how would you suggest I do that?”

  “Have you ever talked to someone?”

  “Of course.”

  “And obviously abstinence doesn’t work.”

  “Obviously.”

  Her lips curved into a cheeky smile as she suggested, “This may sound crazy, but what about monogamy?”

  At that suggestion, he blew out a breath. “The last woman I dated said she wished I’d fall in the Kaptai Lake and have my dick eaten off by a swarm of hungry piranhas. So, no, it didn’t end well.”

  “Where the hell is Kaptai Lake?”

  “Exactly. I had to look it up. Remind me never to go to Bangladesh.”

  “Well, shit.”

  He let out a humorless laugh and watched her tap her manicured nail against her lip.

  “Well, look. You have the job. Just don’t fuck it up, okay? Pun intended.”

  “I’m trying not to. But keep in mind, I’ve been promising my family the same thing for years now, and if I can’t seem to get it right for them…” He trailed off when he saw an expression flash across her eyes. Interest? No...but something.

  “You’ve hardly mentioned them since starting. Are they from around here?”

  “No,” he replied but gave nothing more. His family was not a topic he wished to discuss.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye. If she was flustered by what he’d said, she wasn’t showing it. She seemed to take the hint and went back to eating without saying another word.

  But when he picked up his fork and reached over to spear a piece of her red curry chicken, she looked at him in surprise.

  “What?” he asked, an innocent expression on his face. “I wanted to taste hot and spicy after all.”

  * * *

  EVAN TURNED HIS SUV onto the dark, familiar street lit only by a flickering lamppost and rolled down the window. The night was sticky with humidity, and the sidewalks seemed to be deserted in favor of air conditioning. That or business was good.

  He spotted a couple of shadowy figures in heels standing on the corner and dimmed his lights as he eased his Range Rover in their direction. One of the women was tall with skin the color of rich coffee, and the other a scrawny redhead. Both were similarly dressed in tiny miniskirts and the highest heels he’d ever seen, leaving no dispute over exactly what it was they were doing on the street after dark.

  He hadn’t intended for things to get this bad. But it’d been two fucking weeks since he’d come, and if he didn’t get a release soon, there was no telling what the fuck he would do.

  As he slowed to a stop in front of the women, they turned and sauntered toward him. That close, he wasn’t altogether sure that the redhead wasn’t a guy and, upon further inspection, he still wasn’t positive, so he looked behind them to see if his regular was nearby.

  “You lookin’ for something, sweet thing?” the taller woman asked as she pulled her tube top even farther down to showcase her breasts. They weren’t anything spectacular, but he supposed she would work in a pinch if it came down to that.

  “Is Layla around?”

  The woman’s penciled-in eyebrow arched, and then she crossed her arms, seemingly put out that he’d asked about someone other than her.

  “La
yla’s already busy for the night. You’re too late for that piece of ass, sugar.”

  Evan tightened his hands around the steering wheel as he thought over his options. Then he glanced back at the woman whose hip was resting against the side of his car door.

  Fuck it.

  “You. What’s your name?”

  As she bent down so she was face to face with him, the side of her painted lips curved and she told him, “Violet.”

  His eyes flicked over to where the redhead was walking away after realizing she, or he, was obviously not who he was interested in.

  The fact of the matter was that he wasn’t interested in either of them. The woman he was fixated on was off-limits. Better to slake his lust here than risk losing his job for cornering his boss and pounding into her for some kind of fucking release.

  “Okay, Violet. Get in.”

  He pushed the seat back as she opened the door and slid in, angling her long legs towards his. Immediately, she was on him, running her long nails over his chest as he raised the window and drove away from the corner.

  “What’ll it be, sugar? You an ass man? Or maybe you’d like a good titty fuck?” She removed her hand and grabbed her small handfuls, massaging them as she licked her lips.

  Glancing briefly at her movement, he snorted. Wouldn’t be enough to titty fuck.

  She stopped rubbing herself and jerked away from him. “Whatchu snortin’ about, classy dick? You picked me up, remember?”

  He turned the car into an unilluminated alley and shut off the ignition. There was no way in hell he was bringing a hooker back to his place, and he sure as fuck wasn’t spending money on a hotel room for a five-minute job.

  He unzipped his pants and pushed them down, pulling his cock free. He’d gone commando for easy access, and even without being hard, her eyes flared with interest.

  “I think just a hand job will work for tonight, Violet,” he said as he pushed his seat back.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine he was anywhere other than in his SUV with a fucking hooker. When her fingers wrapped around the root of his cock, he hissed from the sheer relief of having someone other than himself touching his flesh.

  In that moment, he didn’t care who she was or how she looked. Nothing mattered but the fact that she was tightening her hold on his dick.

  While he pushed his hips up off the seat, he heard her moan at his movements, but he wasn’t interested in her pleasure. He was interested in his own. And as her fingers started to stroke up his length, his erection started to take notice.

  The dry rub wasn’t going to work for long, so he cracked open his eyes and asked, “Lube?”

  She gave him a cunning grin and flexed her fingers, making his jaw clench. “That costs extra.”

  “I’ve got the fucking money.”

  She pursed her lips at him and glanced down at his dick before returning her focus to him. “Sure you don’t want my mouth instead?”

  Reaching down, he clamped his hand around hers. “Lube. That’s it.”

  “Okay,” she relented and brought her free hand to the side of her skirt. Then she slipped her fingers underneath and took out a small packet.

  Apparently, she’s a fucking Girl Scout. Always prepared.

  After she oiled him up, she went to work, firmly squeezing him from root to tip, twisting both hands around his cock and rubbing it to attention. He pumped his hips up at a steady pace through her clenched hands and tried not to think about any fucking thing but how good it felt. The beginning tremors of a rush ran through him, but just as quickly, they were gone.

  “No, fuck,” he spat, grabbing at his hair in frustration as he felt his erection begin to diminish.

  She felt it too and moved her hands faster, trying another position as she urged him on in seductive purrs. This couldn’t be fucking happening. Not again. What the hell was going on?

  So he’d looked up images of Reagan, and now, all of a sudden, he couldn’t get himself off? What was that? Some kind of fucked-up guilt trip? He knew he couldn’t have her, and ever since secretly jacking off to her, he couldn’t fucking come to save himself.

  Fuck this shit.

  He sat up and pushed the hooker’s hands off his useless body.

  “Stop. Just fucking stop.”

  “Is there a problem, sugar?”

  He shot her a look that was full of anger and frustration and grasped for his wallet, which was in the pocket of his pants that were currently around his ankles. Pulling a couple of bills from it, he threw them across the console at her, and told her cooly, “Just get out.”

  Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

  He pressed a button to unlock the doors, reached over her, and opened hers. “Get out.”

  “You is a twisted motherfucker, lettin’ girls out in the middle of an alley when the least you could do is drive me back the two blocks to—”

  “GET. OUT.” His voice vibrated through the air and had her jumping out of the car.

  She wiped her hands on the sides of her scant dress, yelling obscenities at him as he leaned over and pulled the passenger’s door shut. “Don’t bother comin’ back here—you or your limp-ass dick!” he could hear her shout as he peeled out of the alley.

  Nausea twisted through his gut and the sting of unshed tears burned his eyes. He hated who he was like this. Hated it yet couldn’t escape. He couldn’t decide which pain was worse: the physical agony, the fucked way he’d used and disposed of another human being, or the guilt and humiliation of having to acknowledge who he really was.

  CHAPTER NINE

  EVAN DIDN’T FIDGET. Didn’t move. He merely sat in the boardroom chair, watching and listening to Bill as he wrapped up the highlights of the week and what they needed to accomplish come Monday.

  Or at least that’s what he assumed was going on from observing the man’s lips move. He couldn’t actually hear anything other than the blood pounding in his head, each beat a taunting reminder that he was no longer in control of his unruly body—it was controlling him.

  It was taking every ounce of willpower to keep still. If he moved, he’d crack, and those fissures would spread until he crumbled completely and irrevocably apart. So he sat there, his eyes glued to the front, his hands in his lap, and hoped the expression on his face was a pleasant one.

  She was seated across from him, a fact he’d become aware of the second he’d walked into the room. He’d decided that the best way to deal with that was by not dealing at all—so he ignored her.

  “That’s all from me for now,” Bill said as he closed the leather folder he had on the desk in front of him. “I’m sure you’re all anxious to get out of here and enjoy your weekend. So remember what I said—this week’s numbers were good but not good enough to spend your life savings. So wind down, relax, and come back ready to make even more money.”

  There were low murmurs around the room as people pushed back from the tables and stood, filing one by one out of the room, her included. Evan waited until they’d all exited and then rose to his feet, ready to leave without having to engage anyone in conversation. He was almost to the door when he heard his name from the front of the room.

  “Hey, Evan? Will you wait a minute?”

  Fuck.

  He plastered on his poker face as his guard went back up. Then he turned around to face Bill. There was an expression Evan didn’t like in his eyes. It looked like something similar to fucking concern. He hoped there wasn’t about to be a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting right there in the boardroom, or he’d be tempted to throw himself out the fucking window.

  The man reached down to grab a manila envelope and held it out to him. Evan looked at it in confusion for a moment before taking it.

  Bill laughed. “It’s just the numbers Reagan gave me to look over for the Whitehead account, not a pink slip.” When Evan jerked his head up, Bill continued. “You looked at it like it’d bite your hand off. No need. You seem to be getting back into things nicely, son. Accoun
ts look good, and Reagan showers you with praise.” He leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “But don’t tell her I told you, of course.”

  He took the envelope from Bill and gave a quick nod of his head. At this point, it was the only reaction he trusted while the man was watching him so intently.

  “She left before I could return them and she needs them for her final report. Can you take them over to her before you leave today?”

  No. No, I fucking can’t, was what he wanted to say. But instead, he managed a polite, “No problem,” and moved to step away.

  “Oh, and Evan?”

  He froze and gripped the report tighter, waiting for the axe to fall.

  “Are you doing okay? You look a little...off today.”

  He rubbed a hand over his chin and tried for a smile, but he knew it wasn’t fooling Bill for a second if the perceptive eyes watching him were any indication.

  “Yeah. I’m just not sleeping that well. I guess it’s finally catching up to me.”

  Bill tapped his fingers on the table in front of him and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Try and catch up this weekend, yes? We can’t have one of our top managers looking like he needs a week’s vacation. We need you alert, son. You know, to instill confidence.”

  Evan forced a small smile. “Of course,” he said and walked swiftly back to his office.

  Once there, he shut the door and leaned against it, quickly loosening the tie that was suffocating him. He took a gasp of air, but it wasn’t enough. After shrugging out of his suit jacket, he threw it over a chair along with the envelope and leaned back against the door, letting the coolness of the wood seep through his damp shirt. He hadn’t even realized he’d been sweating, the effort of trying to be normal and present at the office obviously taking a physical toll on his body.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, he struggled again for a deep breath to calm his hammering heart. He didn’t know how to ease his suffering, and that’s what was sending him over the edge. He’d tried all of his usual go-tos and still nothing.