For fuck’s sake.
I want her so badly. And it’s getting harder not to act on my feelings. Leaving her just then was tough. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Take her inside her apartment and fuck her senseless.
But I can’t. No matter how much I want inside that gorgeous body of hers, I have to stay away.
And I hate that.
Maybe I should stick with my original plan of getting her ousted from the company. Then, I’d get my job back, and I’d also get to sleep with her.
Yeah, and that’s probably the most selfish and dickish thought you’ve ever had, Cross.
As much as I hate to admit it, she’s already shown herself to be a valuable asset to the company.
God, why didn’t I just fuck her all those years ago in college?
Because she hated you, dickface.
If I could go back in time, I’d tell eighteen-year-old Wilder to change eighteen-year-old Morgan’s mind about him, making her see that he wasn’t the total prick she thought he was, and then I’d tell him to fuck her for a week straight because a day would definitely not be enough.
But, unfortunately, I don’t have a fucking time machine, so I’m stuck in my perpetual hell of wanting her and not being able to have her.
I really need to get laid.
But I know, even if I went out to a bar now, picked up some chick, and screwed her for hours on end, it wouldn’t change anything. I’d still feel the same frustration.
Because my cock wants Morgan.
I want Morgan.
I step out of the shower in my office bathroom. I grab a towel, rub it over my hair to dry it off, and then wrap it around my waist.
I did a workout in the office gym, and I was sweaty as fuck afterward. There are showers down there, but I prefer to use my own. And it meant that I could jerk off.
That has become a regular occurrence for me over this past week.
Working with Morgan on the proposal for her D-plus bras meant I was with her a lot. And, when the proposal was done, we put it forward to my parents. Of course, they gave the go-ahead, so we’re well underway on project D-plus bras, meaning I’m going to be working with Morgan even more.
And, as awesome as that is and as much as I love being with her and working with her, getting to know her better, the need to fuck her is becoming unbearable. And the only way to keep it under control and stop myself from hitting on her is to jerk off regularly.
I tried getting it on with someone else when I went out with the boys on Saturday night—this chick called Mandy or Brandy or something to that effect. She was a dancer and was all kinds of flexible, as she was keen to demonstrate. But I just wasn’t into it. So, after getting her off because I felt like it was the least I could do, I left without even banging her.
The whole time, I’d felt like I was trying to talk myself into eating store-brand candy because it was all that was on offer when what I really wanted was Hershey’s.
Morgan is my Hershey’s.
And, apparently, I’m on a motherfucking diet.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror. It’s steamed up. I wipe a hand over it, clearing it, and stare at myself.
I can see the lines of stress caused by my sexual frustration etched around my eyes.
Ugh.
Solely wanting Morgan is even causing me premature aging.
For fuck’s sake.
I drop my forehead against the mirror and let out a groan.
I’m so fucking horny, it hurts.
I stand back, away from the mirror, and decide to get dressed.
But, when I open the door and step out of my bathroom and into my office, as I left my work clothes in there, I’m halted in my tracks, finding Sierra sitting on the edge of my desk, waiting for me.
“Hi,” I say slowly, cautiously.
“Hi.” She smiles, like it’s not odd that she’s here, in my office.
“Where’s Chrissy?” I ask, my eyes going to the door, as if I can magic her up just by looking at it.
She shrugs. “Lunch, if I had to guess.”
Great. So, I’m here alone with her. And I’m dressed in nothing but a towel.
I haven’t had a chance to have a talk with Sierra. I’ve been too busy. Mostly working with Morgan on the proposal. And, on the few occasions that I have seen Sierra, I’ve been with Morgan, and that’s definitely not a chat I’m having around her.
“So, um…what are you doing in here, Sierra?” I curl my fingers into the waistband of my towel, getting a firm hold on it.
“I want to talk.”
And, from the way her eyes drag down my body, pausing on my cock area, and how she grazes her teeth over her lower lip, I know talking’s not the only thing she wants to do.
As if my life isn’t fucked up enough as it is, I now have to deal with this.
“Well, just let me get dressed, and we can talk.”
I start to move across the room to grab my clothes, but she hops off my desk, blocking my path.
“Sierra…” My tone is a warning.
But it’s one that she doesn’t heed because she advances on me. I back up because I don’t know what the fuck else to do, and before I know it, my back is against the wall, and she’s pressed up against me.
“I thought you’d come for me, but you haven’t, and I’m bored of waiting, Wild. So, I’m here to take what I want. And I want you.”
Ah, shit.
She trails a finger down my chest, and I catch hold of her wrist.
She doesn’t look pissed off. She looks…excited. I guess she likes it rough. Not that I remember anything from that night.
“It’s not going to happen, Sierra.”
Her eyes flicker with dislike, but she doesn’t move away.
“I’m your boss.”
“Morgan’s my boss,” she counters.
I have to hold back a sigh.
“I’m CEO; therefore, I’m your superior. And I don’t fraternize with the staff. Ever.”
“You’ve already fraternized with me.”
She grins and bites the corner of her lip. I don’t find it remotely sexy. She’s no Morgan.
“You didn’t work here then,” I tell her.
She moves even closer to me, and now, there isn’t any space left between her body and mine.
“No one has to know,” she whispers, inching up onto her toes. “We could fuck right now. You could go Wild on me, and no one would ever know.”
I bite back another sigh. I’m trying to be as diplomatic as possible, but this chick just isn’t getting it.
“I’d know. And it just doesn’t sit right with me. Sure, we had fun once. But I don’t want to go there again with you.”
“Your cock says different.” She reaches down and squeezes my erect cock through the towel.
Of course I’m hard. I haven’t had sex in a while, and a good-looking woman is pressed up against me. As a man, it’s almost impossible to have a hot woman press herself up against you and you not go hard. My equipment might be faulty at the moment, but it hasn’t stopped working. The rocket fuel is still burning; it’s just failing to take off after countdown.
Well, unless you go by the name of Morgan Stickford, and then my cock will take off at warp speed. It’d fly to the fucking moon and back to get in her pussy.
I grab hold of Sierra’s other wrist and pull her hand off my cock.
So, now, I have both her arms in my hands. And she’s clearly not fucking getting it because she smiles in a way that I’m sure she thinks is sexy, but it’s doing nothing for me. Then, she presses her hips firmly against my cock and grinds against me.
And wouldn’t you just fucking know it?
My towel drops to the floor.
And it’s at that exact fucking moment when there’s a tap on my door, followed by the sound of Morgan’s voice as she opens it up and walks in. “Hey, sorry to—” Her words instantly cut off at the sight of me and Sierra.
I’m up against the wall, naked as the day I was born, with Sierra pressed up against me, my hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her.
For fucking fuck’s sake.
In the long seconds that pass, a multitude of emotions flash through Morgan’s eyes. Anger, disgust, disappointment…but the one emotion I get stuck on is hurt.