“Don’t play with my whiteboard! My clients read it. I’m lucky they’re in a good place, or they would be doubting my professionalism after your little stunt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I lifted two fingers to my forehead in a mock salute.
“Thank you.”
She turned to walk out. I couldn’t resist. “Bet the guy gets a blowjob tonight.”
“That would make one of you then.”
***
For a change, I was leaving the office at six o’clock. “Want to join me and Roman for a beer over at Fat Cat’s?”
Emerie sat at her desk looking in a small mirror as she lined her lips in a bright red that matched her skirt. Following her hand as it curved into the bow of her top lip, it dawned on me that against the backdrop of the stark white office walls, she looked liked a splat of colorful living art on a canvas.
What the fuck, Jagger? Living art?
“Thanks, but I have plans tonight.”
“Hot date?”
“Baldwin is taking me to a French restaurant.”
Tension mixed with a healthy dose of unexpected jealousy rumbled in my stomach. “French food, huh? Not much of a fan.”
“Me either. But Baldwin loves escargot.”
“Snails,” I scoffed, then mumbled “Figures.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” What I really wanted to say was that snails reminded me of slugs. And eating that shit would be cannibalism for Mr. Bowtie. The guy was a slug. But instead, I went with, “You have a good night.”
Chapter 17
Drew
“What’s your favorite position?”
Emily climbed onto my lap, straddling me. “I like this one.”
I’d have to send Roman a bottle of Gran Patrón Platinum for his brilliant idea tonight. We’d met for drinks at our usual bar, but then he insisted we go next door to Maya to try their empanadas—the guy had an obsession with Mexican food. Emily DeLuca and her friend Allison were already there, enjoying margaritas at the bar. Emily was an attorney at a firm across town where I often referred estate planning work. We’d flirted a few times, and there was a spark, but for me, spark never trumped sparkle on a certain finger on the left hand. And the huge rock she wore was pretty hard to miss.
It was also hard to notice it was missing tonight, especially since she’d wiggled the fingers on her left hand at me right before asking if she could buy me a drink. Even with that obvious gesture, I still confirmed her breakup before we left together. No matter how hot or ready a woman was, I didn’t touch cheaters.
Emily ground down on my growing cock, and I reached around under her bunched-up skirt to grab a handful of ass. Then I pulled on the lacy fabric running up the crack to increase the friction on the front. She moaned, so I pulled harder.
Christ, I love G-strings.
She reached for my shirt and started to work the buttons while I sucked on her neck. “I knew the first time I met you that we’d be good together. I hope you have a full box of condoms. Because after I ride you, I want to be on all fours while you take me from behind.”
The thought of Emily ass-up was exactly what I needed. Especially since I’d spent the last week fantasizing about another woman’s ass—one I should not be thinking about. Although, the repeated visual of Emerie’s creamy, round ass with my pink handprint on it as I hammered into her from behind was a new go-to favorite fantasy of mine. I dreamed of finishing inside of her and then cupping my cum as it dripped out to rub into my handprint on her skin like a salve.
My eyes were shut, and I had to press them tighter to ward off the visual of another woman. Because thinking of one woman while another rides you is a complete dick thing to do, even for me.
Emily lifted enough to slide her hand between us and cupped my cock, giving it a good squeeze. “I want you now.” She began to frantically unbuckle my pants, which had me reaching for my wallet. And then remembering there was no condom in there. Fuck.
“Any chance you have a condom?” I asked, biting on her earlobe.
Her voice was strained. “No. And I screwed up my birth control this month, so please tell me you have one somewhere in this apartment.”
Shit. I didn’t. I’d finished off the big box in my nightstand last month and never got around to replacing it. Then I’d used the emergency one I kept in the back of my wallet in Hawaii.
But…I had a few down in my office in the top right-hand drawer. At least I didn’t have to go outside and freeze my balls off. I groaned as I pulled back. Cupping Emily’s face, I said, “I need two minutes. I’m sorry. Condoms are in my office downstairs.”