Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  “Are you gonna take all day?”

  The look that crossed his features then was both exciting and alarming as he warned, “You might want to keep your voice down, Ms. Spencer. We don’t want everyone in the office to know just how hard you plan to work for the next—”

  “Five minutes?” she interrupted with her most innocent smile.

  She felt the tips of his fingers brush across the damp material of her panties, and as he slipped them into the leg and pulled them aside, he promised, “Oh it’s going to take much longer than five minutes. You can stop pretending you aren’t dying for it, Reagan. My fingers are practically dripping, and I haven’t even gotten them inside of your sweet cunt yet.”

  Fuck me, she thought, her inner muscles tightening. Evan was definitely her equal when it came to the bedroom. When his dirty mouth came out to play, and the words fell off his tongue as they were now, she wanted nothing more than to get him inside her so her greedy body had something to cling to. Rather than the empty throb she currently felt.

  “You’re doing a lot of talking when you could be putting your mouth to better use,” she told him.

  “And you’re doing a lot of complaining for someone who is about two flicks away from an orgasm.”

  “Shut…up,” she said, and covered his mouth with her hand. He bit down on her thumb and kept his eyes on hers as his fingers grazed against her wet slit.

  Dammit. Why does he have to be so fucking good at this? And why did her body turn traitor every time she was near him? She hated him.

  One of his fingers pushed inside her.

  Oh fuck.

  Yes…she hated him. Loathed him as another finger filled her.

  When her hands went up to her breasts, she heard him groan.

  “Unbutton it,” he said, and her fingers obeyed as his scissored inside her.

  She parted the material to reveal a silk chemise underneath, her hard nipples straining against the soft material. His free hand came up to cup one of her breasts, and she arched into his grasp.

  God, it didn’t take long for him to focus in on her sweet spot, and as he pressed against it, her legs quivered and her breath hitched in her throat. Her hand covered his on her breast and she squeezed, anticipating the explosive release that was about to shoot through her.

  “Fuck,” she panted, her hips jerking up. “Fuck me—”

  “And there’s the third invite,” he rasped, as he removed his fingers, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her off the desk.

  * * *

  ONCE HE HAD Reagan on her feet, her lust-filled eyes locked with his, and he couldn’t help the grin that tipped his lips. With her skirt hiked up around her waist and her shirt parted, she looked like a woman who’d either been thoroughly fucked or was about to be.

  He spun her around, and before she could offer a sound of protest, he placed a hand on her shoulder blade and gently urged her forward. When she bent at the waist and placed her forearms on the table, the sight of her bare ass cheeks separated by a strip of black lace just about had him coming in his pants. He reached for his belt buckle, and as he fumbled with it, he cursed and instructed her, “Stay just like that.”

  He took a step back and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the table beside her. Glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes tracked over his body boldly, and when they reached the fingers at his belt, he kicked it into high gear. He unbuckled it and unzipped, but before he pushed them down over his hips, he took his wallet out of his back pocket.

  Her eyes found his as he opened it to remove a condom. After tossing the wallet onto his jacket beside her, he brought the packet to his lips and tore it open.

  “Now we both know how vocal you like to be, Ms. Spencer. Do you think you’re going to be able to keep your mouth shut? Or do you need some assistance in the matter?”

  Reagan’s eyes zeroed in on his crimson tie, and without her saying a word, he reached for the knot and loosened it, drawing it from around his neck. As the thin strip of material slipped free, he let the end of it flirt over her ass and groaned when she pushed back, wanting more. He ran a finger down between her ass cheeks. When he dipped it down between the soaked material covering her swollen lips, he pushed it up inside her.

  She moaned, and Evan leaned down until his chest was against her back, and pulled his finger out to rub the material of her panties over her clit. He kissed the shell of her ear, and as she bucked back against him, he teased her again.

  “I think a gag order is necessary here, don’t you?” She squirmed against him as he brought the tie into eye line with her. When she turned her head to look up at him, he raised his brow. “Don’t be so shocked. You’re the one who always screams my name.”

  He then moved to place the fabric between her teeth, and as she bit down, he gave her a wicked smirk. “I have to say, I like you with a mouthful, Reagan.”

  He secured the ends of the tie around the back of her head and then rolled his hips against her ass as he moved back up behind her. He smoothed a hand over the round globe of her cheek, the sight in front of him one he could never have dreamed.

  She was stunning as she waited for him, and even after everything she’d done, he still wanted her more than his next breath. He quickly shoved down his pants and boxers and rolled the condom up his thick cock. He stroked it several times and growled when Reagan rocked her hips as though she couldn’t wait for him to get inside her. And as much as he would’ve loved to torture her a bit longer, he couldn’t hold himself back.

  He pulled her g-string down just below her ass, too impatient to take it completely off. Spreading her cheeks, he rubbed the length of his cock along her wet core, lubing him up before teasing her opening with his tip. As he teased her, she slapped her hand on the table, and the message was crystal fucking clear.

  With no more warning, he slid inside her, her tight pussy like a fist, and it had him dragging in a ragged breath.

  “Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of her. Hot. Wet. Fucking perfection. He could’ve come right then, but he held himself still, his hand on her lower back as he took a deep breath.

  Reagan, on the other hand, had a different idea. Pushing up on her hands, she moved her hips back against him, and it had him opening his eyes and grabbing her waist. As she looked over her shoulder, one of her hands went down between her thighs. Her fingers brushed against the underside of his balls, and his hips bucked. Drawing himself out of her and away from her dangerous fucking fingers, he pushed her back down again, and this time, she winked at him before laying her head on her arms. He thrust back inside her and wrapped his arm around her hip to play with her clit while the other hand kept a tight grip on her waist. She met every punch of his hips with one of her own, and he could hear the soft, muffled sound of her cries from behind his tie.

  The pace intensified as he pinched the swollen flesh he was rubbing with his finger, and as he tunneled into her, he knew that nothing would ever compare to the way he felt when he was with Reagan. She was a fiery-hot temptress, and her appetite more than matched his own.

  He gripped her hips with both hands now, using her in a way that was both brutal and beautiful, and as his climax threatened at the base of his spine, he felt her inner muscles clench around his cock like a vise. He gritted his teeth to hold back the curse he wanted to shout.

  Her hands moved to the table at the sides of her head, her fingers whitening as she pushed them into the unforgiving surface. Her body was moving back and forth across the tabletop with each forceful thrust, her slick juices causing a sweet slide in and out of her. Then she tore the tie out of her mouth.

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder, reached down between her thighs, and said, “Don’t even think about stopping me this time.”

  He dug his fingers into her creamy flesh and picked up the pace. If she wanted to finger-fuck herself, he had no problem with that. In fact, the moment her fingers touched his cock as he slid inside her, he clenched his eyes closed
and growled. “Hurry the fuck up, Reagan.”

  He heard her moan and then shove back on him hard as a soft cry escaped her lips and her entire body clenched around his, tensing from the pleasure that was overtaking her body.

  The feeling of her tight core squeezing his dick had his own climax exploding as he bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

  He’d questioned what Reagan had said earlier, not liking the meaning behind her words, but when he stared down at the woman that he’d so thoroughly possessed, he realized how right she was. Reagan Spencer was definitely his favorite filthy fuck—she just also happened to be a hell of a lot more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  AS REAGAN STEPPED out of her g-string and stuffed it in her briefcase, Evan gaped at her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

  “You can’t expect me to walk around in those all day.” Loosening his tie from around her neck, she lifted it over her head and threw it at him.

  Evan held it up and shook his head. “Then you can’t expect me to wear this all day.”

  “Put it on. You came in wearing a tie, so it’d be too obvious if you left the room without one.”

  “I think it’d be more noticeable to wear it. Jesus, did you leave teeth marks?”

  “If anyone asks, just tell them I tried to strangle you.” She gave him a pat on the chest and headed for the door, but Evan grabbed her wrist.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” he said.

  “Course not. You’re still a cheating asshole.”

  “And you’re still a fucking liar.”

  Reagan narrowed her eyes and jerked away from his grip. “Glad we got that straight.”

  When she pulled the door shut behind her, reality slapped her in the face. Oh fucking hell, not again. At least the hallway was empty, and no one was around to witness her walk of shame out of the conference room. Better not to chance it, though, she thought as she dashed to her office, praying the whole way that no one would see her. If she ran into anyone now, there’d be no denying what just happened between her and Evan. Her clothes were back to immaculate smoothness, but it would be her face that gave it away.

  God, what was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. But it doesn’t mean anything. I hate him. Besides, a good hate fuck never hurt anyone.

  As she entered her office and shut the door, her cell phone pinged.

  Lunch? Crystal’s message said.

  Yes. Girl talk. That was what she needed. And fresh air. Fresh air was good.

  Diablos at noon? she typed back.

  See you then.

  * * *

  EVAN STOOD WHERE Reagan had left him minutes ago—staring at the shut conference room door. In his right hand he held the crumpled tie she had thrown at him as she’d exited the room.

  Goddamn it. Why am I such an idiot?

  He zipped his pants and tossed his tie down next to his jacket on the table. Picking up the coat, he shrugged into it, and then pulled the white collar of his shirt up. And why the fuck did I do it here? Now he wouldn’t be able to attend a meeting without thinking of Reagan bent over the desk and his cock plowing inside her. Yeah, smart move, fucker.

  He knotted his tie and slid it into place at the base of his throat, and as he smoothed the ends of it down his chest, he remembered her dainty hand patting him there condescendingly before she’d walked out the door.

  Jesus, man. She doesn’t even like you. And you don’t like her. Get a fucking grip.

  He turned the collar down on his shirt, reached for his briefcase, and slammed it shut with a little more force than needed. This was not how today was supposed to have gone. He’d told himself when he arrived this morning that he would be a professional and respect the fact that Troy had stopped by his house, by staying the fuck away from his sister.

  Somehow, though, getting inside Reagan after she’d started mouthing off at him had trumped his moral high ground, and staying away from her had been the furthest thing from his mind.

  He glanced at the clock on the opposite wall and saw that he was due in Bill’s office in thirty minutes for a lunch meeting he’d scheduled last week. There was no way out of it, but sitting in an office under the watchful eyes of Bill, who was practically a fucking father figure to Reagan, was not his idea of a fun afternoon.

  Maybe I can convince him to go out for lunch.

  He picked up his briefcase, took a fortifying breath, and told himself to forget this morning had happened. But when he turned to leave, he stepped on something hard and looked down to the carpeted floor to see Reagan’s string of pearls under his foot.

  He crouched down to pick them up, and as he ran them through his fingers, he noticed the tiny gold clasp had broken. Rolling the polished pearls over his palm, he straightened and then slipped the necklace into his pocket. He’d give it back to Reagan as soon as he could look at her again without attacking her.

  * * *

  REAGAN ARRIVED AT the restaurant just as Crystal stepped up to the hostess station. When her friend turned to look at her, her eyes widened.

  “You had sex.”

  Reagan stopped in her tracks as the crowd of customers waiting to be seated went silent. “Uh,” she said, trying to keep the flush she felt spreading through her body off her face. She tried for a smile and felt herself failing. Horribly. “No.”

  Crystal crossed her arms over her chest. “You did. Today. I can tell.”

  “Crystal—” Reagan lowered her voice to a hushed whisper so her friend would do the same, but that wasn’t working for the loudmouth she was now regretting meeting for lunch.

  “Please tell me it was not hot fuck-you sex in the workplace with a certain dangerous ex.”

  “Oh my God. Can we please get a table before you bring up my sex life? And he’s not my ex.” Reagan looked at the gawking faces around them and said, “Carry on, nothing to see here.”

  The hostess seemed to snap out of her eavesdropping, because she grabbed two menus and quickly showed them to their table.

  “You are a bad, bad girl, Reagan Spencer,” Crystal commented after they’d given their drink orders. “First day back and fucking in his office.”

  Reagan sighed and put her head in her hands. “The conference room, actually.”

  “What? Holy fucking shit.”

  When she glanced up, Crystal’s jaw was still on the table.

  “I know. I’m a horrible person, and I make stupid decisions.”

  “This is true,” Crystal joked. “But…we don’t like this guy. He cheated.”

  “Well, I didn’t see that happen, but yeah, I’d guess he did. He says otherwise.”

  “Of course he did. They all do. I mean, they have cocks for brains, what do we expect?”

  And wasn’t that an understatement in Evan’s case. “Yeah,” Reagan said. “I just…I don’t know.”

  Crystal raised an eyebrow as she sipped her drink. “You’re having doubts. He’s planting seeds of doubt, and I do mean that quite literally.” When she winked, Reagan groaned.

  “No fucking seed planting happening, so wrap that shit up. And I mean that quite literally.”

  A burst of laughter came out of her friend then, and the tension in Reagan’s shoulders eased. The best thing about Crystal was that she always lightened the mood, always made a joke or embarrassed the hell out of her to make her problems seem not quite as life or death as her brain was telling her they were.

  “Now I’m hungry,” Crystal said, scanning the menu before eyeing Reagan over the top of it. “Some of us didn’t have our protein this morning.”

  * * *

  EVAN STOPPED OUTSIDE Bill’s office and did one final check of himself. Jacket was buttoned, tie was straight, and his zipper… Yeah, fuck, make sure it’s zipped. Once he was satisfied, he knocked on the door and waited for Bill’s voice.

  “Come in, come in,” he heard.

  Stepping into his boss’s office, he spotted Bill standing over by the globe that housed his secret, or not
-so-secret now, stash of liquor. Evan shut the door behind him and slid his hands into his pockets as he walked inside, stopping by one of the chairs.

  “Ah, there you are,” Bill said, turning from the stand with two glasses in his hands. “Can I interest you in a quick noon pick-me-up?”

  One of Evan’s eyebrows rose, and he wondered if he looked like he needed a drink. Hell, he sure as fuck felt like it. “No, I think I’m going to pass. You okay?”

  Bill placed one of the glasses back on the stand and added a splash of whiskey to the ice in his. Evan watched as Bill made his way over to him, compensating for the limp by relying more heavily on his other leg.

  “Yes. Everything’s just fine and dandy with me. What about you?” Bill kept his eyes on Evan as he took a sip of his drink.

  “I’m fine,” Evan said. But he wasn’t sure how the hell he actually got the words out.

  Bill’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then he looked Evan over.

  God, fuck this shit, he thought, and prayed that he hadn’t missed anything when putting himself back together. Never again, he vowed. If I get the fuck out of here with no damage, never fucking again.

  Evan stood there under silent observation, and was close to cursing out loud when Bill finally brought his eyes back to his.

  “You sure? I know this last week was…difficult. And then you had to go in hard with Reagan today to try and win this client…”

  Bill continued to talk, but all Evan heard was go in hard with Reagan. Oh, he’d gone in hard, all right.

  “Evan?”

  “Huh?” he said, shaking himself out of the mental picture in his head.

  “I just asked if you want to get out of the office for a bit. Maybe we could have this meeting down at Diablos.”