Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“She prefers you to me. She called out your name last time I was balls deep, which does something to my ego when you’re not even in the building.” Amusement laces his tone. “And she uses her safe word whenever I try to ball gag her.”
And that’s precisely why I can’t fuck her again. Not the ball gag part—although it is better with one in—but so I don’t have to listen to her over-the-top wailing. “Just call her.”
I turn my view back to the window. Poppy’s a fucking magnet, and I’m a shitty man who can’t stop the pull she possesses over me. My eyes lock on the rise and fall of her chest, obsessed with the expressions that flitter and change while she works at her computer. She bites her lip and drums her fingers on her chest when she concentrates, a sight I often think about when I’m alone at night. I unwrap another candy, crunching it into pieces this time.
“You’ll get a cavity,” Vance sniggers.
“Call Miranda,” I say, dumping the wrapper in the trashcan.
“You call her, and stop brooding. You know how you get when you let yourself get too pent up.” He reminds me, a warning in his tone.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, a growl leaving my throat. I hate it when he’s right. I click the button under my desk, which locks the door to my office, then unzip my slacks.
“On a separate note,” his voice lightens, “what should we have for Christmas dinner?”
I lurch up in my seat. “You’re not going back home?” There’s a tightening in my chest I haven’t felt for a long time. The feeling is foreign, unfamiliar… Hope, maybe?
“Fuck no, I’m staying with you.” My heart flips at his words. “Speak later.” He ends the call before I can say anything, leaving my ribs aching. He’s not staying for himself, he’s staying for me.
Poppy’s on her feet when I look over to her through the glass. She’s standing right by my window, talking animatedly to Mike, our tech guy. From here, with the light filtering through the building, I can make out the shape of her toned thighs through the silk of her skirt.
I wonder how they’d feel wrapped around my waist, my cock deep inside her pussy, Vance at her back, filling her ass. I bet her cunt is pretty, just like her mouth. Dammit. I shouldn’t allow myself to indulge in these fantasies. Getting to my feet, I go to the window and place a hand right above her head on the opposite side. She has no idea what a fucking creepy bastard her boss is.
She blinks, her lips lifting at the corners at something Mike tells her, making my chest feel full. I stroke my hard cock in my fist, my thumb brushing up my Jacob’s Ladder piercing while watching her lips move as she talks. When she throws her head back and laughs at something he says, my seed rushes out of me, spilling from my cock and painting the window, dripping down where her hip meets her thighs.
I’ve fucked a lot of women—big, small, fat, thin, young, old. None of that matters, as long as I get to come. I’m red blooded, after all. But I’ve never craved anyone the way I crave Poppy fucking Clark.
And I’m losing the threads of my control.
TWO
Poppy
“The angel isn’t straight.” Linda, the office witch, points out. I look up at the tree I’ve wasted half a day decorating because she wanted a real one, not the fake one—I originally put up over three weeks ago, because in her words, “Christmas should last as long as possible.”
Now she’s not happy with the fake one and refuses to let me add any tinsel because it doesn’t fit the aesthetic or smell like Christmas, whatever that means.
Biting down on the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from snapping at her, I drag my chair over then awkwardly climb up to straighten the damn angel. Four years of college to end up as the office bitch.
Why the hell do I put myself through this? My eyes dart to the office just to my right, and a sigh wisps past my lips.
Mr. Carter, that’s why.
Although he shouldn’t, that man occupies my every waking thought. A tall drink of water, and boy, am I thirsty. Despite having a fiancé, I feel like I’ve been parched for years. It’s okay to look, as long as I go home to my boyfriend Josh. Right?
I’ve only got another month here before Robert—the person I’m covering for—comes back. I’ll miss exactly one person when I leave here. Tristan Carter.
He is an exceptional individual. I learned that he founded the company from scratch, pouring his heart and soul into building the thriving enterprise. Despite his wealth, he remained CEO and continues to be hands-on with the company. His success came fast, so I’m not sure he even realizes how wealthy he has become. Or if he has, it hasn’t changed him according to the people who were here from the start. Their assessment appears to be true, there have been a few mornings when he made me a coffee, and Linda nearly fell out of her chair when he made his own photocopies one time.