She crosses her thin arms over her chest, her move of defiance that she always does when she’s about to speak her mind.
“We both know that isn’t the only way to go about this. I see the chemistry between you too and it would be a damn shame for you to just throw away something like that because of principal.”
I do not have the time or energy to deal with her high-horse rants today. I look at my watch and then point to it. “I now only have fifteen minutes to look over these contracts before Will gets here to discuss them. So if you could kindly take your delusional ideas elsewhere, I would greatly appreciate it so that I can get back to work and make sure that we keep business running. Okay?” I know my tone is cutting and borderline rude at best, but I’m tired of Cheryl reminding me of the fact that I can’t have Wren. It’s a conversation that needs to die.
She gives me one last harsh look before turning and briskly walking out of my office, slamming the door a little harder than necessary behind her.
After four meetings in a row, a missed lunch, and God knows how many cups of coffee later, I hit the button on the intercom on my phone.
“Cheryl, will you bring me everything we have on the Newcombs, please?”
“Absolutely, sir. Be there shortly.” Moments later my office door opens and Cheryl walks in, her pin-straight dark hair flowing behind her with her quick pace. She puts a thick file on my desk. “This is everything I could find.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything specific you’re looking for? I may be able to help,” she offers.
“No, nothing specific. Just trying to get myself familiar with the client.”
“Okay, well, if there isn’t anything else, I’m going to take off for the day.”
“What time is it?” I ask, looking at my watch to see that it’s already pushing five thirty.
“It’s almost five thirty, sir,” she answers with a smirk.
I shake my head at myself. “I’m sorry. Time has completely gotten away from me today. Yes, please feel free to get your evening started.”
She nods. “You got any big plans this evening?”
I want to roll my eyes. Didn’t we just broach this subject a few hours earlier? It might sound like a genuinely innocent question, but Cheryl’s questions are never innocent; there’s always an ulterior motive. I manage to hold back; she already knows my plans.
“I’ll probably grab some dinner, read over more of these notes and files. No big party for me,” I say as I keep my eyes focused on the paper in my hand.
She shakes her head. “When are you going to slow down and finally take a break? You’re over forty. It’s time to settle down. Get back out there.”
I scoff. “Cheryl,” I say a little long-sufferingly, “I thought we discussed this earlier? Leave my personal life out of work stuff.”
She laughs and puts her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s well past five so, this is my personal time and not company time.”
“Good night, Cheryl.”
She takes the hint. “Good night, sir.” She steps out and closes the door behind her quietly so I can get back to work.
I lean back in my chair and let out a long breath as I bring my hand to the bridge of my nose and pinch it. My eyes have gone blurry from reading too much today and I already feel the headache setting in. There’s no way I can call it quits just yet though. I still have mountains of work to get through before our meeting with Mr. Newcomb tomorrow. I’ll work for another hour or so, and then I’m getting out of here.
I open my eyes and sit up straight, forcing my gaze back to the stack of papers on my desk. I start reading where I left off.
The next hour passes in a blur and before I know it, I’m driving home, playing the same sick, twisted game I play with myself about once or twice a week. I let my brain run wild with thoughts of Wren. And before you assume they’re just sex-crazed fantasies, they’re not… at least not all of them.
Wren is like no other person I’ve ever met. Apart from being knock-you-on-your-ass beautiful with brains and wit that would give anyone a run for their money, she’s kind and warm. She’s genuine. She hasn’t let the assholes and shitty hand that life sometimes deals wear her down or leave her jaded. She’s always the first one to offer a helping hand or give someone encouragement. She goes out of her way to listen to others. She’s a ray of positivity in the sometimes soul-sucking darkness of corporate America.
She deserves a meaningful and fulfilling life and I know she’ll have it; it just won’t be with me. It’s not that I don’t know how to love or that I was fucked over royally by some woman in the past; it’s just that I’m a grumpy asshole that’s married to his job and I have no business corrupting a bright young mind. That’s the last thing I want, her ending up like me. I already see it happening at times, her staying at work long after the sun has set or getting in before it’s risen. She skips lunch far too often and I’m pretty positive that in three years, she’s never taken a vacation. I make a mental note to fix that.
I step on the accelerator as I take a left onto my street out of the city. The orange glow of the setting sun blinds me momentarily as I hit the button to drop the top on my Aston Martin. This is my favorite part of the drive home. It’s serene and calm; you wouldn’t know that Chicago is a short twenty-minute drive away. I know a lot of people who work downtown prefer to stay downtown, but not me. The last thing I want at the end of a long day is to stay downtown in the constant buzz of people, cars, and hot garbage. I bought a penthouse not too far from the office a few years back, thinking I’d use it—can’t remember the last time I set foot in it. Another thing I make a mental note to address.
Don’t get me wrong, oftentimes my thoughts drift to much less noble places. Sometimes involving Wren screaming my name as she’s bent over my desk and other times I just want to get lost in touching, kissing, licking every square inch of her body while I’m buried deep inside her heat. I subconsciously run my tongue along my bottom lip like I’m licking the sweet, forbidden nectar of the peach off my chin.
I told you it was a sick game. It’s like allowing myself to smell and touch the ripest, juiciest peach, knowing full well I’m fucking allergic to peaches.
2
Wren
“That’s right, baby; take me deep just the way you like it,” Theo’s deep voice whispers naughty fantasies in my ear as his hot breath puffs against my neck. I groan and grasp at the hard desk beneath me but there’s nothing for me to grip. A pile of papers falls to the floor as I let out an animalistic groan I’ve never heard myself make before. I feel like I’m about to explode; my body is tight and on the edge; my tits bounce wildly with every hard thrust of his cock. I look up into his dark eyes; a thick lock of his black hair has fallen over one golden eye, and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on his brow.
I reach up and grab his tie that’s dangling loosely around his neck. I fist it, pulling his lips toward mine just as I hear a loud beeping sound invade my thoughts.
“Wha—what is that?” I say between thrusts. He doesn’t seem to notice it. I glance around, confused as the sounds grows louder and more persistent.