“Shocker, huh?” She widens her eyes. “But, honestly, the pay package and benefits were way too good to refuse.”
That makes me chuckle. “You were at Oscars before here. Managing Director of Marketing, right?”
Oscars is a female clothing company.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve done well for yourself since college.”
She shrugs, as if dismissing my words. “So have you.”
I don’t know if that’s a dig or not, so I choose to go with the latter, and I’m right to do so because she follows it with, “I heard that you went to Columbia after Northwestern. Then, you started here, in the bottom ranks, and worked your way up to where you are now.”
“Who told you that?”
“Your mom.” She smiles. “She also said that you probably had it harder than any employee here, as you felt you had to prove that you’d earned everything and you weren’t just given it.”
It’s my turn to give a shrug. “Sounds like my mom’s been bragging about me.”
“She’s proud of you.”
It’s nice to hear that. I know my parents are proud of me, but hearing it never grows old.
There’s a lull between us. But it’s not the awkward lull that we had last week when I went to her office. And, this time, we’re looking at each other. Neither looking away. And this silence is definitely filled with something…
“So, I should…” She thumbs over her shoulder, not finishing her sentence.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I really need to get on with this; otherwise, I’ll be here all night.” I round my desk and sit down in my chair.
“Thanks for this.” She lifts the folder away from her chest before clasping it back to her, and for a moment, I’m jealous of that folder, all squished up against her tits.
As she turns away, I feel the weird urge to keep her here even if for just one more moment.
“Did you manage to get a PA sorted?” I ask her.
She stops and turns back to me. “Yeah.” She smiles. “I interviewed three candidates yesterday, and there was one who was a standout—Sierra. I called her up earlier to offer her the position, and she accepted. Great thing is, she can start on Monday, as she’d been temping and her temp job finished last week.”
“That’s great, Morgan. I hope she’s as good a PA for you as Chrissy is for me.”
Seriously, there’s nothing more valuable than a great PA. Chrissy is like gold dust. Great PAs are hard to come by. If Chrissy ever decided to leave me, I wouldn’t be too proud to get on my knees and beg her to stay.
“Answer wisely, Morgan.” Chrissy’s voice carries through to my office from her desk outside.
Morgan chuckles and glances over her shoulder, out of my office and at Chrissy. “I don’t think it’s possible to find a better PA than you,” Morgan says to her.
Then, she looks back at me, bites the corner of her painted lip, and winks. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
And I’ve seen a lot of hot.
My cock hardens instantly, like an iron spike in my pants, and I thank the fucking Lord that I’m sitting down and that my desk is hiding my preteen dick.
“Thanks again for this.” Morgan taps the folder with her fingers. “Have a great weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yeah,” I mutter because I’m still in shock.
I just got hard, and I’m talking a full-on raging boner that’s still here from Morgan biting her lip and winking at me.
That hasn’t happened to me in…well, ever.
And I haven’t had a random, inappropriate hard-on since I was a teenager when they were par for the course.
Seriously, what the fuck is going on?
I’m not one of those guys who is all about the forbidden fruit and the chase. I’m not the kind of guy who wants something purely because he can’t have it.
I don’t have to go after the unobtainable because there’s more than enough of the obtainable out there for me.
In the past, there have been women who worked here, some seriously hot women, who I would have happily screwed, but it never bothered me that I couldn’t, and I definitely didn’t sprout random erections because of a lip bite and wink from them.
I just don’t understand what’s going on with me at the moment.
It’s stress. It has to be.
I’ve had a lot going on this past week.
Or maybe… after all these years, I have actually grown tired of all the easy pussy, and the fact that I can’t have Morgan is doing these crazy things to my cock. And she did used to hate me in college, so there’s the added challenge.
Yeah, that’s it.
It has to be. There’s no other explanation for it.
So, all I need to do is ignore this stupid forbidden-fruit infatuation that my cock has with Morgan until it passes. And, in the meantime, I’ll screw as much pussy as possible to keep my dick occupied on other things and not her.
I left the office late on Friday, as my work had taken me twice as long because my mind kept drifting to thoughts of Morgan and all the sex I wanted to have with her.
I’m a guy. Of course I think of sex on the regular. Not every seven seconds, as theorists suggest, but definitely a lot.
I fucking love sex. What’s not to love about screwing a hot woman until you’re both hot and sweaty and coming hard?
But, after Morgan left my office, all I could think of was her. How hard she made me from one look. And I was fast heading toward breaking the every-seven-seconds theory. I couldn’t get thoughts of her out of my head. Her bent over my desk while I fucked her from behind. Then, on my desk. On my sofa. Up against the wall. Her on her knees, sucking my cock. Me on my knees, licking her pussy. Then, in the shower of my private bathroom, fucking under the hot spray. I even veered off to thoughts of screwing her on my bed at home. That was when I knew shit was getting crazy.
I stopped off in the diner near my apartment building to grab a takeout burger. The waitress who served me was hot. Not Morgan hot, but hot.
She slipped me her number as she handed me the burger.
I wasn’t going to call her. But then I got home, and while I ate my burger and drank a beer, the Morgan-sex-scenario reel in my brain started playing again, and my dick was aching from all the teasing my brain had been doing.
So, I called the takeout girl and went to her place after her shift ended.
What? Don’t judge me. I’m a guy, and I needed to have sex. I needed the release.
Only it didn’t make me feel as good as I had been hoping it would. My balls still felt blue even though I’d just come, and I had this weird feeling in my chest. If I didn’t know better, I might say it was…guilt.
Which was weird because I had nothing to feel guilty about.
Afterward, I went back to my apartment and lay awake, thinking about—yep, you got it—sex and Morgan. Or sex with Morgan.
I figured I’d be okay by Saturday night. Once I was out with the boys, I’d be back to normal.
Yeppers, you guessed it. I was wrong.
I wasn’t feeling it. Or any chick in the bar. So, for the first time in a really long time, I went home alone on a Saturday night.
I skipped brunch with the guys, feigning illness, as I didn’t feel like listening to their sexual proclivities from the night before or admitting that I hadn’t had one of my own to share.
I honestly don’t know what the hell is going on with me.
It must be a blip. Maybe I’m having some kind of early-thirties crisis.
I figure I just need to avoid seeing Morgan as much as possible, which is hard, considering I have to work with her. But, if I keep her at arm’s and eye’s length, then my cock will get over this little obsession that he has with her, and things will go back to normal.
It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m heading into the office. I wasn’t in yesterday, as I was in Kentucky all day, meeting with our supplier of satin knit, which we use to make our panties.
I say, “Good morning,” to Leah, ignoring her come-fuck-me eyes. I’ve got enough going on with my internal battle without having to contend with her.