“Dylan, this is a pleasant surprise. I assume you received my package?”
I close the door behind me and cross my arms. “Yeah, cute pun. Do you have a minute?”
He smiles and I stumble a bit. “For you? I have several.”
Standing up, he gracefully moves his body around the desk and sits on the edge, crossing his long legs in front of him at the ankles and bracing himself on his hands. I shake my head at his cockiness. Damn it to hell. If he wasn’t so gloriously attractive, this would be so much easier. He stands before me in a light blue dress shirt, gray plaid tie and khakis, his hair a perfect mess and his green eyes freezing me where I stand. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. I could speak. I had a lot to say. But right now, I wanted to either throw him down and fuck him right on his desk or slap him so hard across his face that he would feel it next week. Hmm, I could do both. Oh Chris, Dylan. No. Slapping him. That sounds satisfying. I move quickly, his eyes widening as I stop just in front of him and strike him across his face, a loud crack echoing throughout the room.
“Jesus Christ,” he almost yells, his hand coming up and rubbing his now reddened cheek. “What the fuck?”
“You fucking prick. Who the hell do you think you are?”
He stands up, towering over me in my flats. Fuck, he’s as big as a tree. “Okay, I probably deserved that.” His tone is sharp but he doesn’t sound angry. He seems more concerned than anything. “Look---” he pauses, rubbing his cheek, “---I’m sorry I kind of shut down after the bathroom. I’m not used to sex getting to me like that and I handled it like an asshole.”
I see red. “Are you serious right now? That’s why you’re sorry? Because you freaked out afterwards?”
“Yes, well that and the fact that those men saw you in there with me. I’m sure they knew exactly what we’d been doing.” He steps closer to me. “Why the fuck else would I be sorry? I’m not sorry it happened. Are you?”
I push against his chest but he doesn’t move. Damn it, I need to start lifting weights. “Yes, I’m sorry it happened. I do not fuck married men, Reese!” I’m shouting now and my throat begins to ache but not enough to make me stop. However, his current look of confusion is taking away some of my fire. He’s a smart guy. Why isn’t he grasping this?
“Okay, that’s good to know,” he says with a furrowed brow.
“Great. Now you know. So stay the fuck away from me.” I go to leave but am stopped by his grip on my arm, turning me around to face him.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I step out of his grasp and look down at his left hand, narrowing in on his bare finger. “You asshole. Why don’t you wear your ring? Hoping to get your dick sucked behind that massive desk of yours by some girl that doesn’t know you’re married?”
His look stuns me. I had expected him to get angry with me for slapping him, maybe a bit disappointed in me for not wanting to pursue this any further, but the amused look on his face was not what I was expecting. He runs his hands down his face and laughs, stopping only when he sees my hardened expression.
“Married? Who the fuck told you I was married?”
I step back. “Juls. Answer my question. Why don’t you wear your ring?”
“Really? And where did Juls hear that I was married?”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “What the fuck does that matter? From Ian. Who else?”
He grabs my hand and pulls me with him towards the door, swinging it open and storming down the hallway.
“Where are we going? Let go of me.”
“Shut up, Dylan.” My fighting is useless. He is clearly on a mission as he walks towards Ian’s office door, dragging my infuriated self behind him. “We’re settling this right now.”
“Settling what?”
“Mr. Carroll, Mr. Thomas told me to hold his calls.”
“It’s fine, Jill,” he grunts at the nice receptionist as he swings the office door open, pulling me into the room with him.
“Fuck. What the fuck, Reese?” Ian’s voice causes me to shriek and then I focus on what is happening in front of me. My eyes widen at the sight of Juls bent over Ian’s desk, completely naked and getting fucked from behind. Ian quickly moves and covers her up as Reese and I spin around and shut the door to keep the curious eyes from the hallway from getting a show.
“Shit. Uh, sorry, man. This will only take a minute,” Reese says as we both stare at the door.
“Jesus Christ, Dylan. I was so fucking close,” Juls growls.
I hold my hands up. “This was not my idea. Blame the asshole next to me.” His head flicks towards mine and I stare him down. Yeah that’s right. I said it.
“Well? What the fuck is it?” Ian asks, still out of breath.
“Why the hell did you tell Juls that I was married?”
He laughs. “Uh, I didn’t. You? Married? That’s fucking hilarious. Babe, who told you Reese was married?”
“You did. Last week when we all went to The Tavern after work. Right?” She sounds nervous and suddenly unsure of herself.
“This is so fucking stupid. Can I go please?” I ask and Reese’s arm shoots out and prevents me from grabbing the door handle. I try to push it away but my efforts are useless.
“Babe, I think you’ve mistaken Reese for Trent. Trent is married.”
My stomach drops.
“Oh. Oh fuck, you’re right. Dylan, I’m so sorry. Shit, I really thought it was Reese. Honest mistake though, right?” She giggles nervously and clears her throat.
I drop my head into my hands. “Jesus Christ.” I groan, hearing a muffled laugh coming from my left and suddenly wanting to hurl myself out the nearest window. Oh God, this is awkward.
“Well, now that there’s no confusion, can you two love birds please get the fuck out so I can finish?” Ian utters through a laugh. “And lock the door behind you.”
“Yup. Uh, meet you downstairs, Juls.” I quickly open the door, beginning to make my way towards the elevators when a pair of hands grab my waist and spin me.
“Oh no. I don’t think so,” Reese states, gripping my elbow and leading me back down the hallway and straight to his office. Shit. He’s not married. Now what?
Four
I was completely unprepared for this turn of events. Everything was executed perfectly on my side. I slapped him, called him out on his infidelity, and didn’t allow his blinding good looks to deter me in any way. I felt powerful storming into his office and telling him off the way I did. But now, now I feel like a meek little church mouse as I cower in the corner of his office. He isn’t married. That was not something I was expecting to discover and definitely not something I was prepared to have to contemplate. I mean, what did we share together other than a hot fling at a wedding? There wasn’t anything deeper going on here, was there? No, surely not. No one develops relationships from slutty wedding sex encounters. That’s not how those things work. If they did, Joey would be in a new relationship every other month. My eyes slowly trail up his long lean body and stop on his eyes that are curiously watching me. He has regained his perch on his desk and hasn’t said a word as I fidget with my fingers, debating on where to start. Fuck. I owed him a major apology. I clear my throat and step closer to him, seeing him shift a bit on his desk.
“So, I was wondering if it was at all possible for you to completely forget that I came storming in here like a crazy person and assaulted you. If not, I’m not entirely above groveling.”
He tilts his head and strokes his jaw with his hand. Pushing off the desk, he bridges the gap between us. “Well, you did think I was a married man who was fucking around behind his wife’s back. I think that slap was justified from your point of view.” His hand brushes my hair off my shoulder, the small gesture causing my stomach to knot up. “Besides, I would hate to completely forget how incredibly sexy you looked all feisty and pissed off.”
I laugh slightly. “You thought that was sexy?”
He nods and licks his lip as he
stares at my mouth. I step into him, feeling his hands grip tightly onto my jeaned hips. “Well then, I could rip you a new one for acting like a total dipshit after you fucked me. It’s your call.” His chest heaves rapidly as I run my hands up his arms and stop on his biceps, squeezing once before flicking my eyes up to his. Hard muscles tense against my hands.
“Do your worst,” he whispers.
My fingers trail up the length of his tie. Yelling at him to make him want me was tempting. Really tempting. But he had technically already apologized for his behavior, and right now, I didn’t want to yell. Not unless he was fucking it out of me.
Gripping his tie in my fist, I pull him back behind his desk and push him down into his chair. “I choose groveling,” I declare as his eyes widen. Kneeling before him and steadying my fingers, I slip them into his belt, loosening it and unzipping his khakis.
“Dylan.”
My hand grips his length and I pull him out, flicking my tongue across the head and glancing up into his eyes that are now glazed with lust. My tongue swirls around the head and down the shaft, licking every inch of him. I trail soft kisses along the seam as his eyes stay glued on my mouth, his lips parting and his breath coming out in quick bursts.
“That’s so hot, love. Suck it hard.”
I smile and wrap my lips around him, guiding him to the back of my throat as he lets out a hiss. I want to take him completely, but that isn’t going to be possible. Not with what this man is working with. Wrapping my hand around the base, I stroke him with my mouth, sucking and licking as his hands find my hair.
“Jesus. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
His hands guide me at the pace he wants. Up and down, licking around the head before I take him in as far as I can. My hand strokes him tightly, gliding up and down his slick length as my mouth follows its path. His fingers brush down my temple, along my cheek and across my jaw. I keep my eyes on his face, seeing the muscles in his neck tense with each suck and his head fall back onto his chair when I lick the tip. He moans, thrusting his hips into my movements as his hands hold my head in place. I never was a huge fan of blow jobs, but the noises coming from Reese right now are making this insanely hot. I wasn’t just getting him off, I was getting myself off. My thighs are pressed tightly together as I kneel in front of him and I know without a doubt that my panties are drenched. He pulses against my tongue. Sucking hard, I pull him deep and let him hit the back of my throat as I relax my muscles.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
I pump him with my hand and feel his hot release shoot into my mouth, swallowing and feeling even more powerful in this moment than I did when I stormed into this office. His legs tense under me and his throaty grunts cause me to suck harder, pulling every bit out of him. He loosens his grip on my hair and gently brushes it out of my face.
“Holy fucking shit.”
I sit back on my heels and smile at my minor victory. He’s still desperately hard and I want to do it again, and again. Making him come apart with my mouth has been one of the hottest things I’ve ever done. Plus he tastes good. Really good. I glance up into his eyes as his breathing steadies, his chest pulling at the buttons on his dress shirt.
“I’m not sure what’s sexier, you yelling at me or you groveling,” he says through a grin that’s as infectious as it is adorable. I smile and bite my lip as my phone beeps in my pocket. I quickly slip it out.
Juls: I came. Did you? Time to go, sweets.
“Thanks for lunch,” I say playfully, his smile still on his face as he resituates himself and stands, offering me his hand. I place mine in his and stand on my wobbly legs. Holy crap, I felt like I just came.
“That was incredible.” He presses his lips against my softly, lingering for a moment as my phone beeps again.
“Shit. Sorry, I have a bakery to run. Later, handsome.” I pull away from him and turn to see him shaking his head. “Oh by the way, I’d like my panties back.” I keep my hand on the doorknob while waiting for his response.
“Would you?” His voice is thick and causes me to clamp my thighs together. My urge to throw him back onto his desk and ride him is stronger than ever.
I nod and regain my composer. “Yes, I would. That pair happened to be a favorite of mine.”
He runs a hand through his hair as he smooths out his tie with the other. “Too bad, they’re also a favorite of mine.” He arches his brow and I grip the doorknob tighter. Holy fuck. “I suppose I could get you another pair. Although, I’m not accustomed to perusing lingerie shops, and I might get the wrong ones. Maybe you should go with me.”
Oh man. The thought of Reese buying me panties is unbelievably hot. I can picture him, walking around and studying each pair with his curious stare, his hands raking through his hair when he can’t find the ones he’s looking for. I smile at the image but quickly shake it off. I shouldn’t seem too affected by this guy. “I’m sorry, aren’t I standing in the office of a CPA? You’re a partner right?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches me. “Then a smart guy like you who I’m assuming didn’t fuck his way to the top shouldn’t have a problem finding them on his own. Unless, you did fuck your way to the top?” I cock an eyebrow and grin as he shakes his head, trying desperately to hold back his smile. “You can send them by way of your flour delivery boy.” His grin bursts through as I quickly exit his office, my cheeks burning from my flushed state.
**
“Well?” Juls asks as we make our way back to the bakery.
“Well nothing. He’s not married apparently.” I keep a straight face but feel like I’m radiating from the inside out. Giving Reese a lunch time blow job has made my week and I can’t get his reaction to it out of my head. His widened eyes as I pulled him out, his face when he came, the feel of his hands in my hair. I shake my head and snap out of my stupor.
She laughs. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to here. But I’m your best friend, Dylan, and I know that face. You like him.”
“I’m sorry, did you get the sense fucked out of you back there? I do not like him. He was my wedding hook up.”
“First of all, yes I did get the sense fucked out of me as I always do with Ian. The man is an Adonis.”
“TMI.” I chuckle.
“And secondly, you totally like him, otherwise you wouldn’t have cared if he was married or not.”
I shake my head. “Please. The only reason why I cared was because the idea of sleeping with a married man was eating away at me. Now, that feeling of shame is gone.”
She pulls up in front of the shop and puts her escalade in park. “And now that feeling of shame has been replaced with love?”
I bark out a laugh and open the door. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We still on for drinks tomorrow night?”
“Hell yes. Give JoJo kisses for me.” I wave to her before stepping into the shop, spotting Joey pacing behind the counter.
His hands are continually tugging at the ends of his hair and he looks thoroughly stressed and irritated. Turning towards the sound of me entering, he drops his hands dramatically. “For fuck’s sake. I have been dying here while you two whores played castrate the adulterer. What happened?”
I walk behind the counter to join him and down my now completely cold coffee. “Calm down, you queen. We didn’t castrate anybody.”
He raises a brow suspiciously. “Well why the hell not? Wasn’t that the whole point of storming over there?”
I’m about to answer when the shop door opens. Joey straightens up and sharply turns towards the door. “We’re closed,” he barks towards the customer as I fold over in laughter.
“Joey.” I nudge him and he smiles. “He’s just kidding, sir, how can I help you?”
The gray-haired man smiles and moves up to the counter. “Good afternoon. Do you have any tarts? I love tarts and haven’t had one in years.” He eyes up my display case and taps lightly on the glass with his hands.
“I’m a bit of a tart sugar,” Joey says in
his overly flirtatious voice.
“Good Lord. No, sir, I’m sorry I don’t make tarts. Although, maybe I will. What kind do you like?”
He smiles sweetly as his eyes light up. “Oh all kinds. Strawberry, blueberry, kiwi, they’re all delicious.”
I giggle at his enthusiasm and pull out a notepad, scribbling down a reminder. “I’ll tell you what, I will personally make some tarts and have them in the shop ready for you by the end of the week. How does that sound?”
“That’s perfect. Thanks, sugar. I’ll stop in sometime on Friday.” He winks at me before turning and leaving the shop, the door dinging closed behind him.
Joey shakes his head at me. “Do you have to be so accommodating all the time? We do enough special requests as it is.”
I place my notepad on the counter and put my hand on my hip. “Hey, special requests are what make Dylan’s Sweet Tooth different from all the other bakeries around here. You can’t just walk into Crumbs Galore on Main Street and ask for something they don’t make. I like being approachable and accommodating. It gives me an edge.” He rolls this eyes but smiles at me, knowing that I’m one hundred percent right. Word of mouth about how customers can pretty much request anything in my shop has gotten me a ton of business over the past three years. I shrug and continue. “Now, would you like to talk about how awesome we are compared to our competition, or would you like to talk about how Reese isn’t married?”
His eyes widen and he stumbles. “Isn’t? As in he’s single? As in you can continue to fuck him?”
My eyes rake through the display case and I straighten up. “Hmmm, hold on. We need more black bottoms.” I move towards the doorway that leads back to the kitchen when Joey grabs me by the shoulders.
“Fuck the fucking black bottoms. You owe me at least an hour of uninterrupted gossip.” His face is red and his eyes are bugging out at me.
“And I will tell you every juicy detail, after I grab a tray of black bottoms.” He lets out a string of curse words and allows me to step in to the back.
I honored what I promised and spared no detail with Joey as I placed the cupcakes into the display case. He stood back, completely enthralled by my rundown of my lunch time office visit. I told him about how I caught Juls getting nailed by Ian on his desk and about how she had mistaken Reese for Trent. I mentioned how Reese thought my angry tirade was sexy and how I was going to yell at him again but opted for a blow job instead to properly apologize for my face slap. And I wrapped up with his words to me when he apologized for his freak out behavior at the wedding.
Sweet Addiction Page 5
