The Fantasy (11 page)

“Oh...I see. We’re playing by Reagan’s rules, are we?” He pushed himself off the desk and began to slowly circle her. “And when you get your answer, what will you do? I doubt it’s something you want to hear…” he trailed off, stopping behind her.
 

The back of her was just as appealing as the front, and he had to force himself not to push her forward and on top of his desk. As his eyes ran over her ample bottom, he palmed his growing erection and took a step closer. She shivered when his breath grazed her neck but didn’t move away.
 

That surprised him. “Not running tonight?” he wondered aloud. “Does this mean I can touch you?” He ran his fingers down the length of her spine, and this time, she jerked away and turned to face him.
 

Her eyes flashed as she hissed, “No, you can’t fucking touch me.”

“I see,” he acknowledged as she shifted farther away from him, undoubtedly trying to create more distance between the two of them. “Then you should have left when I told you to instead of poking at me for fucking answers.”

She looked him over as if trying to decide the best course of action. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and stated plainly, “I’m still waiting for an answer, Evan. Stop trying to intimidate me and answer the question.”

He took a step toward her and let his gaze drop to the breasts heaving behind the satin of her shirt. They were straining the buttons he wanted to pop open with his fingers—or teeth—and when he was finally close enough that he could see the lace of her bra between the buttons, he moved his eyes back up to hers and pinned her where she stood.

“You’re the fucking problem, because for the last two weeks, I’ve had a fucking erection I can’t seem to get rid of. Day after day, I’ve watched you walk around, making my cock fucking ache to sink inside you again, and you know what? I’ve been on my best behavior. I’ve looked, yeah. I won’t lie. But did I touch? No...I went home and tried to forget. Tried to somehow relieve this craving you’ve built deep inside me, but I think I’ve finally worked it out...” His eyes trailed down her neck, watching her pulse beat rapidly as she lowered her arms to the desk to steady herself. “It’s you. I want you.”

Reagan looked taken aback by his admission. “But...that’s not true. I know what you are, Evan. I know it’s not about me.”

He raised his brows. “It’s not? What’s it about then? Please enlighten me.”

“It’s why you don’t do repeats. You’re an addict. I was just a quick fix for you.” She stopped and thought that over. “Well, maybe not so
quick
.”

“Definitely
not
a quick fix.”

“We both agreed it was a one-time thing. What’s changed?”

Evan blew out a heavy breath as he paced the room and gripped the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

She eyed him cautiously. “But you somehow think I’m the answer? You didn’t seem to have any problems at Nova the other night.”

“Jesus Christ. Because I thought about
you
!” he exploded, stopping in his tracks. “You came into my life, and you’ve fucked it to shit. I can’t get a good goddamn release without you. Do you see what it’s doing to me? You keep asking what’s wrong. Now do you see it?”
 

He knew he was losing it, knew he was going too far, but he couldn’t stop now. The throb of his cock was insistent, and he caught her eyes on his erection before she quickly tore them away. Reaching down, he rubbed his open hand over his pants and felt himself growing harder.
 

It was then that the main office lights shut off for the weekend, the room going dark except for the dim lamp on his desk and the sliver of city lights peeking through the blinds. The room was charged with sexual tension, and from the way she clung to his desk, he had a feeling that it wasn’t emanating only from him.

“Reagan…” His voice was like gravel as he tried to slow himself down. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you’ll let me have you.”
 

She took a shuddering breath as he unbuttoned his pants, his hand disappearing inside to continue stroking. “I can’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but her eyes were no longer fighting the urge to watch his movements.
 

“Yes, you can,” he coaxed, taking a step toward her. With every rub of his cock, he was growing harder for her, more desperate. “Just this once.” He moved again so that only mere inches separated them. “Let me fuck you, Reagan. Right here on my desk. Let me…”

Reagan looked him dead in the eye. “And if I do...what happens then? What about next week when some hot waitress can’t get you off? Will you come running to me?”

He dropped his head forward, stared down at the hand he was using to massage himself, and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t
know
...” He gritted his teeth, then dragged his blurry gaze back to hers, and pleaded, “Please, Reagan. You don’t understand how much I need this.”

She raised her hand and placed it on his chest, and if he hadn’t actually witnessed the action, he wouldn’t have believed she was finally touching him. Then understanding dawned across her face and she seemed to be thinking over her words carefully before she spoke.
 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, and since I’m the boss for now, you’re going to listen to me.” As she gently pushed him away from her, Evan’s heart thumped hard inside his chest. Then she said softly, “You’re going to stay here where I can see you. You think it’s me, the thought of me, that gets you off? Then you shouldn’t need to touch me to achieve that...should you?”

He stepped away as she moved to the side and walked around to where his office chair was pushed in under the desk. After rolling it out, she sat, crossing her legs and placing an elbow on the arm as she ran her eyes down over him.
 

When they landed on the hand pressing over his parted pants, she licked her full lips and told him, “Now what is it you want, Evan?”

As he looked at her sitting in his chair and issuing orders like a fucking queen, he wondered if she thought he would change his mind and leave. If that were the case, she was about to be in for one hell of a fucking surprise.

“I want you to unbutton your shirt.”

She didn’t hesitate, her fingers nimbly unfastening the buttons down to her waist.

“Untuck it. And then leave it on my desk.”
 

Reagan kept her eyes on him as she obeyed his wishes and pulled the material from her skirt, unfastening the remaining buttons before sliding it off her shoulders and baring the cream lace bra underneath.

Christ almighty.

The sight of her sitting there with her breasts spilling over the edges had him groaning, but before he could reach back inside to ease himself, she called his name.
 

“Wait,” she said, standing up and walking back around. “I can’t see from over there after all.”

She sat in one of the visitor chairs in front of his desk, and when he turned to face her, she grabbed his hand. Her tongue ran over the length of his palm before she took two of his fingers into her mouth and sucked.
 

His entire fucking body trembled at the warm, wet heat of her, and when she was finished, she grabbed the edges of his pants and pulled them, along with his boxer briefs, all the way down. He kicked them off and took hold of his cock, pumping it through the slick glide of his fist.

Reagan’s hand reached up to slip the strap of her bra down, and he nodded and grunted out, “Off.”
 

She complied, unsnapping the back and letting the bra fall to the floor. Her nipples were hard, and fuck if that didn’t make him thrust into his hand more forcefully.

Her eyes were watching him closely, not showing any discomfort over the fact that she was sitting topless in his office as he masturbated. That was when, bold as ever, she tilted her head and licked her lower lip. Evan knew right then that he wouldn’t do anything to fuck this up.

“What next, Evan?”
 

The way her lips parted around his name had him reaching for her until she shook her head.
 

“No, no. No touching me. What next?”

“Fuck,” he growled out as he clenched his jaw and brought his hand back to pump his cock harder. He let his eyes fall down to her breasts and the smooth skin of her stomach and managed, “Unzip your skirt.”

“No,” she told him and gave a sinful grin. “I’m not taking my skirt off. Next?”

His nostrils flared in frustration as he looked down at her sexy face and said, “Pull it up.”

“My skirt?”

“Yes, your fucking skirt,” he groaned.

She reached down to either side of her thighs but kept her eyes on his as she started to draw it up her legs.

“More,” he said when she stopped just below her hips.
 

Reagan raised it higher until her matching cream panties came into view. He wanted to pass the fuck out when he realized she had soaked through them.
 

“Goddammit, Reagan,” he ground out, and she raised her brow.
 

“See something you like?” she asked and threw one of her legs over the arm of the chair.

Fuck yes, I do.

“You know I fucking like it,” he confirmed as she arched her hips in his direction, and he fisted his length harder. “I fucking crave it. Jesus, Reagan. You’re soaked. Tell me you aren’t dying for me to fuck you right now. Right here on the floor.”

She clutched the sides of the chair she was sitting in, and he watched her thigh muscles tense as her back curved like she was trying to push against something, seeking the pressure he knew his cock could give her.

He stepped closer to her, like a man dying of thirst who’d finally spotted an oasis in the desert, and when he was close enough that the scent of her arousal hit his nose, he bared his teeth and demanded of her, “Why are you denying yourself?”

When she looked up at him, the hunger in her eyes was evident, but so was the control he knew he was lacking. Instead of answering, she fingered her nipples, successfully drawing his attention back to the task at hand. She cupped herself, pushing her rounded flesh up and squeezing in time to every stroke he made.
 

Fuck. Almost... I just need...something more.

He was panting, so close to the rush he knew was coming. “I want—” he started.

“Tell me.”

Evan leaned over her and grabbed the back of her chair, only inches between them. With his mouth hovering by her ear, he told her, “I want to come all over your perfect fucking tits.”

She gave him a smile so fucking naughty that it had his insides twisting as she whispered, “Do it.”

God, I want to kiss that fucking smile off her mouth, he thought,
but that was not part of the deal.
 

Instead, he held on to the back of the chair and moved between her splayed thighs. She still had one hanging over the arm of the chair, so she was nice and wide for him, and as he started to pump his cock, he looked down to see her watching with rapt attention and a slightly parted mouth.
 

Fuck, he was so ready. The smell of her, the debauched look of her, and the fact she was letting him even do this were all coming together to build inside him a climax he couldn’t wait to paint her skin with.

Then her eyes flicked up to his from beneath her long lashes, and when she repeated, “Do it,” he lost his fucking mind.

His gaze never wavered from hers as the pent-up hours of agony unleashed in spectacular fashion across her chest. He’d never felt a release on this level before. It felt as though he were unloading a heavy burden from his shoulders, and as his climax waned, the tightness in his chest eased.
 

She never took her eyes off him, and he wondered what she saw. A desperate man, most likely. One so deeply entrenched in the depth of his addiction that the only relief he’d been able to find lay with the woman beneath him, covered in his come—she’d become his dirtiest fantasy.
 

He jerked back from her, his hands shaking as the enormity of what had just happened sunk in. He’d just come all over his boss’s tits.
 

Fucking hell. What have I done?

She slid her leg down from the arm of the chair, and Evan watched in stunned silence as she turned, grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on his desk, and cleaned herself up.

I need to say something...but shit. What do you say after that?
 

She didn’t even give him a passing glance as she stood and walked around to where she’d dropped her bra, tossing the tissues in the trash. As she replaced her clothing in silence, he kicked his ass into gear and did likewise.
 

Before he could offer up one word of apology, she came around the desk, looked him over, and smoothed her hands down her skirt.

“So, I’ll see you Monday?”

Special thanks to our #Dirtysmooth critiquers, Stacy and Bianca. You two were the first to set eyes on this story, and your feedback was invaluable. Had you told us you hated it, there would’ve been two hookers named Stacia and Bianca in Chapter Eight who looked remarkably similar to you guys.