Crazy, Stupid Sex

by Maisey Yates

  “What?”

  “Well, and I was thinking it was time I had a job again. There’s only so much sedentary luxury a guy can take before the luxury starts to go to his head. I honestly found myself concerned by my lack of female servant to feed me grapes and fan me the other day. That’s not normal.”

  “No, it’s not. But I don’t think this is normal, either.”

  “Granted, it’s probably not, but truth be told normal isn’t my primary concern.”

  “What is your primary concern?” she asked, hands on her hips.

  He frowned. “I want you still.”

  She sputtered. “I don’t…I can’t…what?”

  “I want you still, and you left.”

  “You slept at the kitchen table rather than sleeping with me, I didn’t exactly feel like you were hanging out to spend quality time with me.”

  “I don’t want to spend quality time with you, I want to spend naked time with you. And I don’t sleep with people.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to this.”

  “You can’t say much about it, because this is now my job.”

  “Sleeping with me?” she asked, blinking rapidly, her heart slamming hard against her breastbone.

  “No. Weirdly, they won’t cut a check for me for that particular activity. But overseeing this app is now my official job.”

  “What the hell title did they give you for that?”

  “Third Party Technology Development Manager.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “That’s what it says on the little plaque on my desk.”

  “They did not…emboss you a plaque that quickly. That is not how that works. There’s bureaucracy and, and…”

  “Did you not hear the part about my dad owning almost every media outlet in the country?” he asked.

  “This is unbelievable. I am not sleeping with you again.”

  “Technically, we’ve never slept together.”

  “I am not banging you again,” she hissed.

  “That’s more accurate. Also, I don’t think it’s true.”

  “Oh, it is true.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because. Because I was supposed to just…do it with you and forget about you. You were not supposed to follow me into work like a lost puppy.”

  “Fine. Forget about the sex.”

  Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I can’t, because my one-night stand has followed me to work.”

  “Try,” he said. “And so will I. Just focus on helping me do my job. I’ll be like a real boy, employed and everything.”

  “So you suddenly want to what…try at life?”

  “Sure, if you want to put it that way. Yes, I partly wanted to see you again for…the thing we’re now forgetting about, but honestly, I find you inspiring. You’re young and you’ve done a lot with…hell, I don’t know what you started with, but I’m sure it was with less than me, if only because ninety-nine percent of Americans have less than my family.”

  “So now you want to…reform?”

  “Don’t go that far, but maybe I want more. You seem like you have it together and you have to be…how old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Okay, you’re a good eight years younger than me, and clearly you have your shit much more together in the professional arena.”

  “You’re full of crap,” she said.

  “Maybe. But this is the situation. I’m not going to harass you into sleeping with me, that would get HR involved, plus, it’s a dickbag move. Also? I don’t need to coerce women into my bed. They come willingly. As I’m sure you recall. Therefore, my efforts will now be focused elsewhere.”

  “Did you expect me to just…take my panties off when you walked in?”

  The look on his handsome face clearly said: Yes, yes I did.

  “I expected you to take them off and beg,” he said, a completely unashamed smile crossing his features.

  She cleared her throat and shuffled a stack of papers on her desk noisily. “I see. Well, sadly for you my panties are staying firmly…on my ass. So…there will be no dropping…of them.” She cleared her throat again, and shuffled the papers even more loudly. Maybe if she did it enough times it would distract him. “Also, I think your confident brand of pickup swag works a lot better in a bar than in an office.”

  “You have a point. We’re both very sober and the lighting isn’t anywhere near as dim.”

  “Interesting, because you commented on how I seem different in this environment. So do you.”

  “Do I?” he asked.

  “I think I have the upper hand.”

  He frowned. “I don’t think so. Because, in addition to being your superior on this project, if I told you to take your panties off right now, you would.”

  Heat bloomed in her face, her heart thundering hard. “I would…not.”

  “Oh baby, if I told you to slide them down your thighs and show me what you have under those…leggings, you would.”

  “No. I absolutely would not. Nope. No. No. And you’re inappropriate.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Am I supposed to be apologetic?”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything so…decent.”

  “Oh good. I lack decency in most areas. But I find that makes me a much better lover. Which you’ve benefitted from.”

  Her face was so hot she felt like she’d just stuck it in an oven. “Sure. Once. But no more. This is…the workplace. Not the…not the bedroom,” she said, calling on all the business class ballsiness she possessed. “And you just have to remember, that in this office, I’m the boss.”

  “You’re The Doctor.”

  She put the papers down on the desk. “No…I’m not. I don’t…time travel. I manage things. That’s…stop distracting me.” She regathered the papers and shuffled them again. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. He looked…pleased.

  “Either go back and clean out your newly minted desk, or stay and actually do a job,” she said, looking at the wall behind him then trying to gather herself up, taking a breath and staring him down. “I’m not playing games. You’re right—I didn’t come from extravagant money. What I have, I earned on my own. So you may want to come in here and play at a job, but this is my life. And you are not playing around in it. Asshole.”

  * * *

  Caleb had expected to be having sex by now. Actually, he’d expected to be basking in a post-orgasmic afterglow on Evie’s desk by now. He had truly expected to show up at her office and have her sweep everything off her desk and demand ravishment. Because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

  And that never happened. Ever. So it had logically meant, in his mind, that since he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, she must have been hanging out thinking about him.

  So yes, he’d assumed that when he showed up, panties would be dropped.

  Rather, he’d been met with Evie in leggings and a T-shirt, brandishing an evil eye that was enough to make pertinent bits of him wilt. Gone was the rambling, awkward woman he’d picked up in the bar.

  Well, no, she wasn’t gone, she was still there. But she was a hell of a lot more confident in her rambling in this environment.

  So now he was working an office job. Without office sex. Fan-freaking-tastic.

  But why? There were women here. Cute women. There was no reason he couldn’t get himself some office sex. It didn’t have to be with Evie.

  His body responded to that with minimal enthusiasm.

  That was a new one to add to the list. Along with: screwed a woman, can’t get her out of my mind.

  So now he was in a cubicle—a damn cubicle—waiting until Evie was ready to have him look at her “progress.” She’d managed him. Like a child. It would have been more amusing if that wasn’t how his father always handled him. Not that he hadn’t earned the treatment. He damn well had.

  But he was not used to women treating him this way. Which, were it not for his thwarted libido, wo
uld make it funny.

  More importantly, she’d turned him down. It was unbelievable.

  “Why did she put you in a cubicle?”

  He looked over and saw a group of guys in skinny jeans and hoodies looking at him. “Because she wasn’t willing to share her desk space. Don’t you people have coffee to brew?”

  The guy who’d already spoken, with dark scruffy hair and a beard, shrugged. “No, we’re making a new game app. With unicorns.”

  “Sounds cool,” Caleb said, his tone dry.

  “We weaponized the horn,” said the shortest guy, shifting in his bright red sneakers.

  “I want to play,” Caleb said.

  The first guy shrugged. “Sure.”

  Chapter Six

  Evie was sitting at her desk getting increasingly antsy. She was trying to figure out some fun, interactive things to add to the different lists in the app so it wasn’t just sedentary text. But she’d gotten to the sex tips portion and her brain was starting to short circuit. As was her body.

  She blamed stupid Caleb Anderson. Stupid Caleb Anderson and his lack of Whovian knowledge. Stupid Caleb Anderson who had invaded her space, her office, her domain. Stupid Caleb Anderson who was supposed to stay a one-night stand, and who had not.

  One night of reckless abandon didn’t work when it followed you back into real life. Then it became a consequence. Dammit, she didn’t want a consequence. She just wanted a brilliant sexual experience, exquisite oral sex and absolutely no reckoning for her pleasure. Was that so freaking much to ask?

  She skimmed down the list. Her entire body heating with every item read. Because she was picturing doing it all with Caleb.

  Number five: when you’re going down on your man, make sure to use your hands. Cup his testicles—

  Oh, cheese and rice.

  She skipped ahead. She had the idea.

  Number six: surprise him at work. Nothing breaks up a mundane day at the desk job like having sex on the desk!

  She choked.

  Next.

  Number seven: don’t be afraid to get a little kinky. She shifted in her chair. A little pain can be fun. Hair pulling—yeah, she knew that—and spanking add a little spice to the bedroom. A light swat from your man’s hand, or some more intense action with a belt, can really get things going.

  She grabbed her iced coffee from the desk and popped off the lid, tilting the cup back and crunching ice cubes between her teeth, even though she knew it was bad for them—nine out of ten dentists could, like her ex, suck it. She needed to cool down.

  And stop imagining office sex. Caleb bending her over her desk and—

  No!

  She stood up and rounded her desk; this had to stop. She glared at her desk, as if it were responsible for her filthy fantasies, and pushed open her office door.

  And saw that all of her employees and interns were huddled in the corner, with Caleb at the center. Huh. Him and that damn, indefinable charisma.

  “What’s going on?”

  Cassie, one of the employees she’d had longest, lifted her head and pushed her giant hipster glasses up her nose. Beneath said glasses she looked positively twitterpated. And it made Evie irrationally angry. “Caleb is on level twelve of ‘Unicorn Strike.’ Dude! No! Get the horn of justice! The horn of justice!” She shrieked, turning her attention back to Caleb.

  “Ah, no! Died.” Caleb put the iPad back down on the desk in front of him and everyone around him sagged a little. “What’s the horn of justice anyway?”

  “When you impale your enemies it resurrects all the gnomes and fairies they’ve killed, then you get a swarm to come and give you aid.”

  “Well, I should have known,” Caleb said, standing up, his eyes meeting hers.

  Her stomach crushed in on itself, like it was a soda can Caleb had wrapped his fist around. “Can I see you in my office, Mr. Anderson?” she asked.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “Of course not,” she said, ignoring the sensual shiver his words sent over her skin. “Why would you be in trouble?”

  “I’m slacking on the job.”

  “You’re my boss, aren’t you?” she asked, regretting the words when they came out.

  “On select projects,” he said, his words heavily laden with double meaning. Dear Lord, how did everyone in the room not hear the subtext? It was enough to make her overheat. She wished she’d brought her cup of ice with her.

  “Yeah, fine, in my office,” she waved her hand and headed back into the room, waiting for him again, before closing the door behind them.

  “I’m having déjà vu from this morning,” he said.

  “You’re a nuisance, Mr. Anderson.” Her lips twitched. “I’m sorry, I can’t say that without laughing.”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Anderson. The Matrix.”

  “Okay.”

  “You know what, that makes you even worse. How do you not know The Matrix?”

  “When did it come out?” he asked.

  “Ninety-nine.”

  “Oh yeah, I was getting laid.”

  “You’re a nuisance, Anderson,” she said again, irritation spiking through her blood stream.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes. You’re out there being all…friendly with my staff and they have work to do. Much like for me, a job isn’t a little game they try to amuse themselves with for a couple weeks at a time before they go back to a slothful existence of sleeping till noon and taking Jell-O shots off the stomachs of coeds.”

  “You must have been at last year’s spring break event down in Puerto Vallarta.”

  “I don’t want to know if what I just said was true!” she wrinkled her nose. “The point is, this is serious business to us.”

  “Yes. Weaponized unicorn horns and some ridiculous space-themed TV show on repeat on all the monitors on the walls. Serious business, I get it.”

  “It’s our passion, Anderson,” she said. “You get off on picking up random chicks at bars. We get off on this. More than that, we need it. It’s our livelihood and our future. So don’t come in here and screw with it. With your suits and your…your shoes and your expensive hair.”

  “I didn’t come here to mess anything up.”

  “No, you were here for the nooky. Sorry I ruined your plans.” She was just annoyed now. Which was kind of nice because it made her feel less stumbly and awkward.

  “Oh, I’m still here for nooky,” he said.

  “What?” The stumbly and awkward was back.

  “That’s why I’m anywhere, Evie.”

  She coughed. “You have a problem.”

  “Is it really a problem if you’re totally happy with it? Though, I did tell you I’d help with the flirting stuff. And I will.”

  “Fine.” She opened and closed her hands. “Have a seat. I have app crap to show you so pay attention.”

  “I think ‘Unicorn Strike’ is probably more to my taste level.”

  “Too bad, bitch,” she said, “you signed yourself up for this project, now you’re going to help. You’re a manwhore, you ought to be able to help me figure out just how to lay out all this pertinent info. And you can tell me if any of the tips are BS. In that regard, your role as consultant makes perfect sense.”

  “I think I’m flattered. Let me see what you’ve got.”

  She handed him her phone. “Okay, what I’m working on right now is some kind of interactive features for the lists so they don’t seem stagnant. But the problem with the sex tips is that everything I think of is pornographic.”

  He laughed. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Okay.” She sat at her computer. “Scroll through. I’ve got the most up-to-date beta version on my phone.”

  “Yeah…” he said, “I think including pictures of women licking popsicles on your blow job tutorial section is a touch overboard.”

  “Well, I couldn’t put them licking actual penises. I have standards.”

  He actually laughed at her. “I like it when you talk dirty.”r />
  “This is an issue, Caleb. And it is now your job. Oversee.”

  “It’s a no on the popsicles. I mean, if you’re concerned about people being offended, which is sort of funny considering the content of the article. But strange things offend, trust me.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “I imagine you’re an expert at offending.” He shrugged. “I’m okay at it.”

  “Any other ideas?”

  “I think we should call the geek squad in for a consultation.”

  “No. There’s a reason I’ve been doing most of this project on my own.”

  “Are you embarrassed?” he asked, swiping his finger over the screen.

  “Are you…are you perving on the animation?”

  “Yeah.” He looked up at her. “Did you…did you do the art for this?”

  She blinked. “Yes.”

  His focus went back down to the phone. “It’s really good. You could transfer this skill.”

  “To what?”

  “Drawing me dirty cartoons.”

  “It’s tempting. Especially considering that your general affluence likely means you could set me up for early retirement if I did something dirty enough.”

  He continued messing around with the phone screen. “But you were in Forbes. I heard, somewhere, that you were kind of a big deal.”

  “From me. You heard it from me, and the sadness of that is completely noted, just saying.”

  “Okay, I’ll be honest with you. It’s going to be hard to do classed-up graphics for this.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You’re over thinking. It’s not a game, right? It’s imparting information.”

  “Sure. But I just think some Easter eggs would be fun.”

  “I think the content is the star.”

  “Well, you’re a guy.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? That for women this stuff isn’t interesting? I call bullshit, Evie. I know it’s interesting to you.”

  Evie shifted in her seat and looked very determinedly at the computer screen. “Sure. I mean, obviously I’m a sexual being.”

  “I like that. It sounds very elevated. And above common, sweaty, base desires like the rest of us have. Though, I know you aren’t opposed to getting a little sweaty.”

  “Inappropriate workplace conversation.”