Sex Addict (8 page)

Fuck her
, he thought as he pounded between the tight fit, tearing his eyes away. The orgasm he’d been chasing was slowly fading. Shaking his head, he gripped the sheets until his knuckles hurt.
 

No, no, no.

The rush he’d been feeling only seconds before subsided, and as the ache in his cock was replaced with pain, he groaned.

“Fuck you!” he shouted as he slammed his hips back against the bed. The sting made him wince, but still, he tried again, glaring at her as he cursed out, “Fuck you!”

The smile that had once been inviting now seemed to smirk at him as his hard-on waned. He tried desperately to block her from his head, to get back the high, but it was gone. Fucking gone.

“Goddammit!” he roared, clenching the bedsheets in his hands and ripping them off, the move causing his limp cock to pull out roughly from between the mattresses. He stood up and tore the rest of them off the bed before throwing them across the room, knocking over a lamp so that it all crashed to the floor. “Fuck!”

He was panting as he bent over and placed his hands on the bed, drenched in sweat and shaking from frustration. Clenching his jaw, he stood and stumbled before he moved away from the object of his self-destruction. Then he glanced at the image once more as his back hit the wall of his bedroom and he wondered what the fuck she had done to him.

Never had he been unable to find some kind of fucking satisfaction. Never had he consistently been drawn to one person the way he seemed drawn to her. And as he slid down the wall, dejected and exhausted, he tried to pinpoint the exact reason for his growing obsession.
His usual tricks weren’t working, and he knew that somehow she was the source of his inability to find satisfaction.
 

She was a gorgeous woman, but he’d had gorgeous women.
 

Was it that she was a challenge now after her firm denial of him? Was it because he knew she needed to be off-limits so he could keep his fucking job? Or was he simply trying to trade in one addiction for another?

He rubbed the back of his neck in vexation. The lights from the city seemed to shine on him now like a fucking spotlight as he pulled his knees up to his chest. He kept his eyes on the now achingly familiar face staring back at him and wrapped his arms around his knees, unable to stop the shame that started to trickle inside the cracks of his well-established armor.
 

Where he’d originally craved the eyes of an outsider to heighten his release, the eyes of a still image were now more than he could bear.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

IF HE HAD to watch Reagan’s goddamn pert ass walk out of his office one more time that day, he was going to lose his shit. He shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair, wincing slightly from the shot of pain that ran up from his groin due to last night’s abuse.
 

He glared at the door again. She’d walk back through it in about five minutes. Just like she’d done all damn day, torturing his raw cock every time he had to look at her—a reminder of how fucking desperate she made him.
 

Disgust settled in the pit of his stomach every time he caught a glimpse of her, and it was starting to grate on his last nerve. It was bad enough that he’d had to put on the show of a fucking lifetime today, walking around the office as if he were perfectly fine. But to see her looking as polished and professional as always made him want to put his fist through a wall.

Thinking that that wasn’t the best idea, he decided it was time for him to make a quick exit. If he could pack his shit up and get to the door before she spotted him, maybe this day could end without—

Reagan pushed open the door without knocking and walked inside, her eyes still looking down at an open folder in her arms. “Hey, I was thinking that we could order some takeout or something since it looks like it’ll be a late night.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she looked up. “What?”

Evan just shook his head and bent down to grab his briefcase, laying it on the desk and piling the work he needed to take home inside it.
 

She raised her brow. “Going somewhere?”

“I don’t think late-night dinner dates at the office are a good idea, do you?”

“No, not usually on Tuesdays, but how about we make an exception just this once?” She gave him a cheeky grin.
 

“I don’t think so.”

“Evan,” she said, walking to stand directly in front of his desk.
 

The top of her thighs pressed into the edge of it, and the first thought that went through his mind was that she was at the perfect angle to bend her over and take her from—

“Evan,” she said again, louder this time, causing him to tear his eyes away from the blue, figure-hugging skirt that encased her shapely legs and back up to her eyes. “Deadline. Work. Dinner. The end. What’s the problem?”

Evan shut the briefcase with a resounding click and picked it up off the desk with a little more force than necessary. Then he walked around to where she stood and dared to step in a little closer than one should with their boss
.

“The problem is that it’s after hours and you’re here and so am I with all these flat surfaces. Do you think I’ve forgotten what’s under those prim and proper outfits you wear?”

For the first time since the day she’d interviewed him, he thought he caught a flash of attraction in her eyes as she shifted so they were now eye to eye.

“I’d hardly call an evening pouring over numbers and graphs and eating Kung Pao chicken a date, but—”

“I’d call it a tease,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s like waving a red flag in front of me and daring me not to charge.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away, still standing so close to him that he could feel her breath quicken. He wondered what she’d do if he touched her now. If he said exactly what he was thinking.
Fuck it.
 

“Maybe that’s what you want,” he said, his voice low and seductive like a vampire compelling its prey. She wasn’t moving, so he took that as a sign to continue. “Maybe you like the idea of me hiking that tight-as-fuck skirt up your legs, bending you over my desk, and shoving inside of you”—he paused and leaned a little closer—“just as I’ve been imagining all day.”

The tip of her tongue licked her bottom lip, and there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to let her know he noticed that. He wanted to see just how far he could push her...
 

“Or perhaps you’d rather a more familiar position: you on your knees with my cock in that flirtatious mouth of yours?”

“Evan—” she tried to interject, but her breath caught as he raised a brow.

“Deny it. Go on. I dare you.”

While she stared at him, her white teeth bit into her cherry lip as she stood there, not saying a word.

“That’s
exactly
why I won’t stay,” he said, letting his gaze drift down her body before he walked out the door, leaving her there speechless and watching after him.
 

* * *

EVAN RAPPED ON the door to Reagan’s office and waited for her to respond. It’d been a couple of days since their confrontation, and he’d noticed she’d been giving him a wider berth than usual. That was fine by him since he’d developed an unhealthy obsession with zooming in on the woman every time she was within eyesight, and he was not proud of the fact. So if she wanted to keep her distance, then she was doing him a favor in a way. Although his cock did not agree.

“Come in,” she called from behind the closed door.
 

After pushing it open, he made his way inside with the information she’d requested. “
You were right about Stein,” he told her. “If they’re willing to drop the price point on their major products, then it will likely increase their sales.” Stopping behind one of the chairs opposite her desk, he frowned at her. “The hard part will be making them see it that way.
”

Reagan leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands together. She contemplated his words for a moment and then gave an arrogant smile as she shrugged. “I don’t have to make them see it. I’ll just tell them the numbers and show the statistics and they’ll have no better option
but
to lower their prices. Win-win if you ask me.”

He gave a slight nod and turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.
 

“Wait just a second. Have a seat.”

Looking over his shoulder at her, he tried to gauge what the change in her tone signaled.
 

She cocked her head. “Please?”

Reluctantly, Evan turned, made his way to one of the seats opposite her, and sat. Then rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers in front of him as he waited for her to talk.
 

She crossed one leg over the other, but he refused to allow himself to look. He didn’t know if she was playing with him or if this was just her, but every little thing she did provoked him. Even the pen she was rolling back and forth between her fingers brought to mind her hands on him.

“Evan,” she said. “I wanted to take a minute and ask how you’re settling in.”

He hadn’t expected that to be the direction she’d take, but as he sat up straight and lowered his hands, he saw her eyes flick down to where they rested on his thighs before coming back to his own.

“So far so good, I think.” He stopped for a moment and then dared to ask, “As my boss, how would you rate my performance thus far? That, after all, is what counts, isn’t it? That you’re satisfied?”

He watched as the pen she’d been twirling between her fingers made its way to her mouth. She bit the end of the pen cap as she appraised him.
 

“I’d say I have no complaints,” she said, a slow smile crossing her face.
 

Evan frowned. “That’s not very good feedback, Ms. Spencer.”

She rocked back in her chair, her smile growing wider as she slid the pen across her bottom lip. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d say your job performance has been...adequate.”

“Adequate?” he said, baffled. “I think we both know that my skill set is far above the level of ‘adequate.’”

“Hmm,” she mused. “Well, your social skills need a bit of work, but you do seem to be extremely motivated to please, highly productive, and your job focus is unwavering. I guess I’m holding off judgment until I see how you close the deal.”

Evan had a distinct feeling that the conversation had veered off the professional line of questioning directly after he’d been told to sit.
 

He’d been trying to figure out what was different about her today. Since he’d gotten the job at Kelman Corporations, she’d been nothing but professional, and each day he’d been there, she’d demonstrated a work ethic that anyone would admire. Today was different though. She was more relaxed than he’d seen her before. Her hair was still perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, but it was her demeanor and...her blouse.

He hadn’t looked her over until right then, but as he let his eyes trail down over her collarbone, he saw that the respectable Ms. Spencer had left a few extra buttons open. She probably didn’t think he would notice something so inconsequential, but when you had masturbated to the point of hurting oneself while looking at a set of fucking pearls around said neck, you soon sat up and paid attention when it was bared to you.

“My social skills are lacking, you say?”
 

She leaned forward in her chair and dropped the pen on the desk, resting her elbows on it and causing her shirt to spread open a little more.

“Well, it’s understandable that you’re a little reluctant to open up.”

His eyebrow quirked as he looked down to get a peek of her bra before coming back to her face and stating, “Whereas you seem more than happy to…”

“To..?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” Glancing around, he noticed the diplomas hanging on her wall. “NYU, huh?”

She followed his gaze and nodded. “Yeah. For my master’s.”

“And before that?”

“Before what?”

“Before NYU. What’s your story?”

She shrugged and sat back in her chair. “Are we playing Twenty Questions now?”

“Are you gonna answer every question with another question?”

“It’s just not important.”

Evan studied her carefully. “Well, it seems only fair. You know everything about me.”

“Yes, but we hired you. It’s my job to know what I’m getting myse—our company into.”

“So, your favorite restaurant growing up was called..?”

She laughed and shook her head. “McDonald’s.”

“And the names of your parents are..?”

Reagan rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. “Get back to work.”

* * *

“WE MAKE A good team,” Reagan said the following week as they walked out of the conference room and through the lobby. They’d just finished presenting their collaborative merger project, and it had gone surprisingly well. “Frankly, I’m a little shocked.”

“Oh yeah? Doubting my ability to perform, were you?”

As she pushed the doors open to the street, she shot him a look that said,
Really?
and he laughed.
 

“All right, all right. We make a very good business team. I agree.”

“There. Was that so hard?”

As he strolled beside her down the sidewalk, he shook his head. “Be proud of me. I’m keeping my lips zipped.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing you keep zi—” She stopped herself before she could finish the sentence.

“Hey, I’m trying here.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t be sorry if you knew every way I’ve thought about fucking you.

He felt a grin quirk his mouth as they continued back to the office in comfortable silence until the growling of her stomach had him stopping in his tracks. “Lunch?”

She pressed a hand to her belly and glanced over at him. “It’s daylight, so eating together is allowed now, huh?”

When he nodded, she pointed at a Thai restaurant across the street.
 

“Does that work for you?”