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“Unconventional?” She raises her Botoxed brow the tiniest amount it can move.
“A 5k race.” I smile.
“Ha! I would love to see his face when he sees that. Well, I’m heading out. Have a great night.” She walks away, then reappears seconds later. “And by the way, if he does give you any shit about any of the PR opportunities you present to him, unconventional or not, tell him to take it up with me and that I’ll make him do them, so there’s no point in fighting it.”
I type up the email to Cyrus, letting him know that my speech is still a work in progress, but he’s welcome to make changes or omit things. I fill him in on the article that’s in the works and end with a little note about the 5k.
I hit send and shut down for the night, ready for a glass of wine and a soak in the tub to relive every delicious second of my interaction with him today and the way my thigh still burns where his fingers touched me.
Chapter 9
Cyrus
It’s getting late but I decide to check my email once more before heading to bed. I tip the crystal tumbler back in my hand, finishing off the whiskey I’ve been nursing. I scroll through, making note of a few emails I need to respond to when I see one from Presley’s new work address.
I click on it, my balls tightening just reading her name.
“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter to myself, reaching down to adjust my already hardening cock.
I open the email and read over her message. I read through her introduction speech for me and it brings a smile to my face. I imagine her saying it and wonder if it pisses her off that she has to make me sound like a fucking saint. I’m about to click out of the email when I see a little note at the bottom that makes me do a double take.
PS I noticed you’ve been involved with PAWS for years and thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to run their upcoming 5k. I have reached out to the organizers for you so all you have to do is show up on race day.
My head lulls back as I laugh; of course she did this. If she thinks for one second I’m going to run a damn race, she’s out of her mind.
I lean back in my chair, debating and then deciding to have another finger of whiskey. I pour a little more into my glass, then put on a record of the Dave Brubeck Quartet and settle back into my chair.
I feel exhausted. These days have been taking a toll on me lately, this deal with Meridian and the way Nelson has been on my ass, pushing me to my limit. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the chair as the music fills my home office.
An image of Presley’s flirty smile and big round eyes as she looked up at me today drifts through my brain and instead of pushing it aside, I indulge. I imagine what could have happened if Lisa hadn’t been with her.
Would I have pushed it further? Tried to scare her a little more so she understands the kinds of things I fantasize about doing to her?
I’m not frustrated by my attraction to her; she’s breathtakingly beautiful, stunning. It’s the mix of naiveté and her bold tongue that’s quick to say something she knows will elicit a response from me. It drives me wild and I can barely contain my desire to own her, to act out my most fucked-up desires when I’m near her. It’s why I bolted at lunch; it’s why I shoved her out of my office the second I felt her pressed against me. I have no self-control just being near her, let alone if I actually allowed myself to act on it.
I wonder what kind of woman she is in bed… in a relationship. My stomach curdles at the thought of her in a relationship. I haven’t heard her talk about a man in her life, but then again, neither of us have divulged much of anything about our personal lives.
Pushing that thought aside, I think back to the feeling of her silky skin beneath my fingertips today. I knew I was risking losing control when I touched her thigh, but I couldn’t tell myself to stop. I justified it in my head, that maybe if I crossed a boundary so deliberately, she would see that I’m willing to risk everything to take what I want and it would scare her.
My mouth waters imagining sliding my hand further up her thigh. My cock jumps to attention at the thought of feeling her heat radiating against my hand. Would her panties have been wet?
I reach down, unlatching my belt and sliding my zipper down my pants as I reach inside and fish out my cock. I stroke myself slowly, gripping my shaft tightly as I begin to pump my hand up and down its length.
I want her to watch me while I slide my fingers inside her. I want to hear my name tumble from her lips as I bring her to a climax with my fingers.
My breath grows jagged as I quicken my pace. I’m close already. I imagine her gripping the armrests tightly as she trembles, coming on my fingers so I can taste every drop of her sweet release.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan, emptying myself onto the floor of my office. Shame instantly washes over me as I sink back in the chair.
* * *
I stare at my phone, pretending to be focused on something important, but I watch Presley out of the corner of my eye.
She laughs, reaching her hand out to touch Forrest Devry’s arm as they talk animatedly. I know who Forrest is; his dad is a federal judge and his mom is on the board at Rush-Copley Medical Center. He’s a bright kid, tall, blond, and known for having a different woman on his arm every other month… not so different than me at that age. I’m not surprised he would take an interest in Presley, although I doubt she’s his normal type. For as much as she makes me want to bend her over my knee half the time with her questions, I think she pretends to be a lot more bold than she is when it comes to men.
He checks his phone, then motions toward the door as she waves goodbye to him and slings her bag over her shoulder. I stay behind a moment after she leaves, then follow her out into the hallway.
I quicken my pace just before she passes the narrow hallway where my office is located and reach my hand out to hook her elbow.
