Urges: Part Two

by Sky Corgan

  When I came upstairs from getting dressed, Trent was in the shower. I frowned as I thought he was probably trying to wash my scent off of him, so disgusted by me that he couldn't even wait until I left. Since things had taken an awkward turn with us, I decided to show myself out. Waiting for him seemed pointless.

  I've slept with more than a few guys. Only taken the walk of shame once before, but it never felt like this. Truly shameful.

  As I drove home, I re-evaluated the whole situation. Maybe I didn't pursue Trent originally. Everything between us had happened by accident thanks to me offering to stay late at the office to help him with those stupid files. But as soon as his desire was apparent, I had come on pretty strong. It's no wonder that this was the result. He used me and tossed me aside, because that's what guys like him do.

  There's no longer a question in my mind as to why Laura has never heard of him dating anyone. As he said, he doesn't date. And he doesn't date because he's a Dom. He just doesn't know it yet. Everything that went on in that basement was one hundred percent BDSM. The leathers, the toys, the way he made me call him Sir. It's just strange that he doesn't admit it.

  What do I care? He's an asshole. Whether he is a Dom or isn't shouldn't mean anything to me. Because I'm not a submissive. Sure, I submitted to him in his basement, but that was just for fun. The last thing I want to do is bow down to a man in my everyday life. Having to work for him is bad enough.

  Thinking that I'll have to see Trent again on Monday makes me absolutely sick. How do we go back to being employee and boss from here? I knew things would change between us before I slept with him, but I never anticipated he'd be so cruel afterward. In truth, I don't want to see him again. That's not an option though. I need this job, at least until I find something else.

  Monday rolls around, and as I pass by Trent's office, I feel an aching in my heart. He's in a suit and tie again, resuming the role of businessman. All of his kinky secrets are back in the box. But I know the darkness that lingers within him now. Things are different.

  Even though I want to hate him, I can't. Even though I want to be repulsed by him, I still find him incredibly attractive. I had hoped that seeing him would fill me with disgust at all the pain that he put me through in his basement, but I just think of the pleasure. I think of his thick cock rammed inside of me. I think of his fingertips lightly brushing over my nipples. I think of the warmth of his chest as he held me in his arms. If anything, I still feel denied. He got everything he wanted from me, and I got so little from him. Yes, the sex was explosive. But I wanted more kisses, to thread my fingers through his hair, to press my palms over the naked flesh of his torso. Even though we did so much together, he's left me wanting so much more. It's not fair. For that, I can kind of hate him. Kind of.

  While things definitely feel awkward between us, he doesn't act cold towards me at all. In fact, it's like nothing happened, the same way it was after he ate me out on his desk. He's really talented at pretending that we only have a professional relationship. I suppose that's good though. It means he doesn't want to fire me, that he's not holding my pursuing him against me. He may be an asshole in the bedroom, but he's still a good boss. Part of me wishes he wasn't. It would be a lot better for me if he tried to make my life a living hell and drive me away. Then I wouldn't want him at all.

  As it is now, I catch myself looking at him a little too long. Every time I'm standing in the order entry department with Zelma and Laura, and Trent walks out of his office, I stare at him just as lecherously as Zelma does. Unlike her though, I know what I'm missing. The smell of leather and sex and his cologne haunts me. And every time I see him, I imagine him shirtless, standing there in front of me in nothing but leather pants and arrogance. It's the bad boy complex, I decide. Or maybe it's just because he's so devastatingly gorgeous. I don't know, but I need to hate him to get over this.

  ***

  My mother is all grins, which is a bit disturbing. Typically, she's a rather miserable woman. Not so much miserable as just existing. Few things in life excite her, and she only smiles like this when she's up to some mischief.

  It's Wednesday afternoon, and we're sitting in front of the TV watching a cooking competition show while we eat our TV dinners. That's pretty much all that's ever on the menu unless I cook, which is rare. Cooking takes money, and since my mother works at a restaurant, she eats at work most of the time and rarely brings groceries home. That means her fridge looks like a bachelorette haven. If we have milk, bottled waters, condiments, and enough TV dinners to sustain us for the week, then we're doing good.

  I try to pretend not to be interested in whatever has put her in such a good mood, but the smile on her face isn't going anywhere, and I know she's waiting for me to ask what's up. For some reason, I don't want to give her that pleasure though. After all the times she's snubbed conversation when I've been trying to tell her something important to me, I don't think she deserves the courtesy of me caring.

  “How was work?” I ask instead, needing to fill the void during the commercial breaks when she turns down the volume and looks at me expectantly.

  “It was work.” Her smile fades for a moment. “The boys left the restaurant a complete mess last night. I was so ticked off when I came in this morning and found it like that. I'm going to give Jesse a piece of my mind next time I see him.”

  “That sucks.”

  This is a story I hear from her at least several times a week, about how someone isn't doing their job, and she's going to go over her manager's head to have them fired. She's actually done it a few times, and it's been rather effective. For being a regular employee, my mom holds a lot of power where she works. She's also a slave driver, so I can only imagine it would suck to work with her.

  “If he doesn't do anything about it, I'm going to go over his head. I'll call Robby, and we'll see if that shit doesn't get straightened out real fast.”

  I grunt in reply. Same shit, different day.

  She sighs, finally getting to the topic she really wanted to discuss. “One of my friends from work is coming over on Friday to take a look at the front porch.”

  “So?” I shrug, not even bothering to look at her.

  “So,” she drags out the word, and I can hear the smile return to her voice. “He's about your age, single, and very handsome.”

  “And he's your co-worker.” I glance over at her to show my disinterest.

  “He's the head chef at the restaurant, and he makes good money. And he's a great guy. Always helps everyone. Never have to ask him to do anything.”

  “Well, apparently, you have to ask him to clean.” I roll my eyes.

  “He wasn't working last night. And besides, he cleans up the kitchen everyday like he's supposed to. It's the dining room that's always trashed.” She scowls, thinking of her recent work woes.

  “Not interested.” I grab the remote and unmute it to end the conversation.

  “Oh, Fennel. What would it hurt? It's not like it's a date. I just want you to meet him. I'd like to see you hook up with a nice young man around your age. You don't want to be a spinster like me,” she sounds sincere, but I know she's not. This is totally just about her wanting to play matchmaker.

  I did just hook up, I think, though he wasn't very nice, and he's a bit older than me. That's not what she needs to hear though. Something else to make her less proud of me than she already is.

  Just thinking about what happened with Trent depresses me. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to meet this guy that my mother works with. At least, it might help to take my mind off of Trent. If, and that's a big if, he is, in fact, all the things she says he is. My mom and I rarely have the same taste when it comes to men.

  “Friday you say?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

  Her grin broadens, knowing she hooked me in.

  ***

  It's Friday. As with every Friday afternoon, I'm sitting in the order entry department waiting for the clock to tick down to five o'clock, though today, there's a b
it more hesitation than usual. Shortly after I get home, I'll be thrust into an awkward social situation with a complete stranger who my mother may or may not have told that I'm single and ready to mingle. My mom is a fruit loop like that. She's always been rather aggressive with her matchmaking. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy knows my whole life story all the way down to what skivvies I typically wear. Few things are sacred when it comes to what my mom will disclose.

  I sit in the chair in front of Zelma's desk, wringing my hands together as I think about everything that could possibly go wrong. There is a never-ending list. If my mom can't even pick a stable man for herself, why should I hope that she can find one for me? This is definitely going to be awkward. I just hope I can get through it.

  “Ohhh, tall, blond, and sexy is coming this way,” Zelma mumbles between tight lips.

  I look up, and my eyes lock with Trent's. Silently, I pray he'll turn into one of the other offices. The last thing I want to have to do is feel the tension between us, to look at him and think of what I lost, of what I completely screwed up by sleeping with him. As my luck would have it though, he doesn't turn into another office. My heart skips a beat as he makes his way all the way down the hall to us. At least, he's not here for me. He'll say his peace and go away, as he's done throughout the week when we've all been in this room together. It feels like I'm nonexistent most of the time.

  Not today though. Today, his focus shifts to me. His eyes are cold, and his voice is stiff. “Fennel, can I see you in my office for a moment?”

  I cast a backwards glance at the girls as I follow him to his office. Each step fills me with dread, wondering what he wants to talk to me about. We've been avoiding each other like the plague all week, so I don't think it has anything to do with what we did last weekend. I could be wrong though.

  When we step inside his office, he gestures to the chair in front of his desk and then closes the door behind us. I sit with my hands clasped together, feeling the perspiration gathering on my palms. This is more than a little uncomfortable.

  “How has your week been?” he asks as he rounds his desk to sit down. Causal banter. I hate how it's always a prelude to getting to the point.

  “Tiring,” I sigh. No more tiring than any other week except for maybe the first. Perhaps a bit more emotionally straining than normal because of what went on between us, but he doesn't need to know that.

  “It has felt like an unusually long week.” He draws his hand up to his temple as if he has a headache.

  “So, what do you want to talk to me about?” I try to cut to the chase.

  When his eyes meet mine, it feels like he's shooting daggers right through me. “Things have been a bit different this week.”

  Of course, they have. We fucked, and now every time we see each other, it's completely awkward. Being in this room with him right now is awkward. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “You've been looking at me.”

  “What?” I'm taken aback by his sheer arrogance. Is he really serious?

  He folds his hands on top of his desk. “Every time you walk by my office. Every time we pass in the halls, I can feel your gaze upon me. Your eyes linger. It's obvious.”

  I arch an eyebrow, trying to temper the anger in my voice. “I don't look at you any more than anyone else does.”

  “But you do. You're trying to tempt me.”

  I couldn't act anymore shocked if I tried. “Unless my simply existing tempts you, then I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “It does tempt me, Fennel.” The look in his eyes switches from seriousness to heat in less than a second, and the mood in the room takes a complete turn. “Knowing what we did together. Seeing you in those little skirts you wear around here. It tempts me.”

  My cheeks turn about seven different shade of red as it sinks into my mind that he still wants me. He still wants me just as much as I want him. In an instant, my hormones switch on. My memory returns to that afternoon when I was laying on his desk with his face buried between my legs. I go from ice cold to smoldering hot in less than a heartbeat. Damn him for doing this to me. Damn him to hell.

  I don't know what to say, can't think from the torrent of perverted images that are flooding my brain. Images of our bodies entwined together.

  “It's become a distraction to me,” his voice softens, and some of the heat leaves his expression and is replaced by something else. Regret. “It's a problem.”

  The elation I was feeling only moments ago drops like a rock. Panic and despair take its place as I realize what's really going on. This isn't a confession of desire. He's about to fire me.

  From the Author

  I hope you've enjoyed Urges: Part Two. Part Three should be available around the middle of January. To be informed as soon as Part Three is available, please sign up for my newsletter.

  To further support this author, please post a review after you finish reading this book.

  Sky Corgan is the USA Today bestselling author of The Billionaires Club. She lives in a little podunk town near San Antonio, Texas. When she's not typing away at the next steamy romance novel, she's busy planning for future vacations.

  Originally a horror author, sex scenes and love stories kept magically creeping into her work, so she decided to make the switch to romance. Now she enjoys writing stories that make your heart flutter and your inner yearnings awaken.

  You can get a FREE Sky Corgan novel and stay up to date on her latest releases by signing up for her newsletter.

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