“Damn. This shirt is fucking fabulous. I kind of feel bad for the boyfriend comment,” Joey says.
“You should. That was really nice of her.”
He shoots me a challenging look, but it’s short lived. Brooke did well and Joey knows it. And the smile he tries to hide as he folds the shirt against his chest isn’t missed. Once he’s done, he smoothes out his skin once more in the mirror behind him, tucking the shirt underneath his arm. “Do you think I have wrinkles?” Oh, Lord.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your skin is flawless.”
He grins. “You know why, don’t you?”
I immediately hold up my hand to stop him from talking. “Please, spare me the ‘semen is the fountain of youth’ conversation. I find it hard to believe that mine and Juls’ swallowing habits are directly related to the number of crow’s feet we end up getting.” I shake my head at the memory of that discussion a few years ago. Joey really is a piece of work, trying to convince us to up our blow-job game to ward off any fine lines.
“You good?” I ask. I need to go get ready for my visit with Reese, knowing full well his lunch break is the best time to get him alone.
He smiles. “I’m great. Go properly thank that man before I do it for you.” He arches his brow, the wicked gleam in his eyes beaming at me.
I chuckle at his comment as we both walk back into the shop. Practically sprinting up the stairs, I run straight for my lingerie drawer with only one thought in mind. Naughty Dylan is about to come out to play, and she’s not going to hold anything back either. Reese Carroll, you have no idea what you’re in for.
23
This is crazy. Seriously, completely insane. I’m riding the elevators of the Walker & Associates building, my knees shaking against each other under my oversized trench coat. Glancing down at myself, I tighten the belt around my waist and bite the inside of my cheek. I’ve never done anything like this before or even remotely close to this. I mean sure, I’ve shown up to Reese’s work multiple times and given him an office quickie, but I’m always dressed appropriately when I do it. Never, and I mean never, have I pulled a stunt like what I’m about to do. I try to shake off my nervousness as the doors ping open. Stepping out onto the twelfth floor, I begin the stroll toward his reception area.
I need motivation, so I think of the delivery he sent me as I walk down the long hallway. A brand new car definitely deserves this type of a thank you. A brand new car that drives like a fucking dream.
Sorry, Sam.
I spot Dave, my favorite receptionist who Reese re-hired. After firing him for being ‘too cheery’, I convinced Reese to give him another chance, which he didn’t fight me on. And since I’ve spent a considerable amount of time in this office over the past eight months, Dave and I have become fast friends. His crooked smile lights up his face as I point toward Reese’s door, silently asking if he’s available. He nods and, like he always does, motions for me to walk right in. Glancing down one last time to make sure I’m covered, I swing open the door and step into his massive office.
He looks completely focused, eyes on his computer screen and pen stuck in his mouth. Lucky pen. With the sound of my entrance, he glances up slowly, his eyes locking onto mine as I close and lock the door behind me. All my nervousness is left in the hallway, and before I can give him the chance to speak, move, or even breathe, I open my coat and drop it to the floor. And that’s not the only thing that drops. His pen falls out of his mouth as his eyes slowly take in my attire.
I’ve chosen a matching red lacy bra and panties, garter, stockings, and my black stilettos I wore the night of my bachelorette party. My bra and panties are insanely see-through, barely even classifying as underwear, and when I say red, I mean fire-engine red. I’m standing in his office, screaming at him in this outfit like a siren. My skin is flushed from the sheer contact of this ensemble. This is has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done and by the way Reese is looking at me right now, it’s totally worth it.
He leans back in his chair, his eyes staying glued to my body as he rakes both hands through his hair. “Jesus fucking Christ.” His eyes meet mine briefly before he drops them to my chest. “I can see right through that.”
“You don’t like it?” I ask playfully, seeing his tongue dart out and lick my favorite slit that runs down his bottom lip. Oh, yes, my tongue will be doing that in just a minute. “I’ve come to thank you for your gift.”
“I’m not gonna last long,” he replies quickly, his hands firmly gripping the arms of his chair. “I’m telling you right now, whatever you’ve planned,” his Adam’s apple rolls in his throat, “I’m not gonna last with you wearing that.”
“That might be the best compliment you’ve ever given me.” My smile busts my face open, and I can practically feel his erection from where I stand. With the heated look he’s giving me right now, I’m positive I won’t last long either. Please, like I ever do with this man’s skill level. I place my hands on my hips and stand up straight, ready to start my fun.
“Now, there are two rules you must follow in order for this to play out in your favor.” I bend down and grab my coat, placing it on the chair after I retrieve my cell phone out of it.
“And what would these rules be?”
I can feel his penetrating stare as I scroll to my playlist. After finding my selection, I stride over to his desk and walk behind it. “Rule number one,” I place my phone down next to his computer, “you’re not allowed to touch me at all during the song.”