Dirty Addiction (Dirty 2)

“Fuck me,” I plead.

He grins. “Not until you come again.”

“I can’t.”

But his tongue darts inside me again and I feel my body give into him, despite my brain saying that I can’t take much more. His hands grab my thighs pushing me open, as my body pulls against the ropes holding me down.

It doesn’t take me long before I’m coming over his tongue again.

“You taste so good.”

“I need your co—”

He doesn’t let me finish my sentence. He makes me come again and again. And only when he knows that my body can’t take any more, does he finally drive his cock inside me. It’s never felt so good to have his cock inside me as it does right now. I’ve never needed sex as much as I do right now.

My body aches to have Brody one last time. My eyes dart around the airport, but I don’t see him. He’s making me wait again. I’m fine waiting, but I’m already so turned on that I could come with one kiss from him. I try to think about something else while I wait. And wait. And wait. My thoughts keep going back to Brody though.

I wait until I barely have enough time to go through security, pee, and make my flight. And then I go. I walk through security and then onto my flight. I try not to think of him as I board. I have more important things to focus my attention on and worry about now. But Brody is all I can think about as the cabin door closes and the engines purr to life.

I feel hurt, empty, broken. I feel things I never thought Brody could make me feel. Why didn’t he show up? That’s all I can think about as we push back from the gate. Maybe something happened to him. He was hurt. His car got into an accident. It doesn’t make me feel especially better, but it does make me think that he’s not that big of an ass. That he did want to fuck me, but he just couldn’t get to me for whatever reason.

My phone buzzes in my hands. I haven’t switched it to Airplane Mode yet, like I’m supposed to. It’s a message from an unknown number.

I bite my lip as I stare at my phone. I know it’s Brody. I just don’t know if I should open it or not. I hear the engines roar louder, and I know we are about to take off soon and that I won’t have a chance to look at the message again until we land.

I click the message to open it, praying that he didn’t get into a car accident and is now dying in the hospital while I fly thousands of miles away.

He’s not dying.

He’s not hurt.

He’s not even texting to apologize.

Instead, I get a picture of him with a blonde with fake boobs and a fake smile sitting on his lap on a lounge chair back at the resort. His arms are wrapped around her as he softly kisses her on the cheek.

I read the words that he typed below the picture.

I got a little distracted and couldn’t make it. Sorry I’m such a dick.

I delete the image and his number from my phone before I have a chance to do something stupid like texting him back. I reach into my purse and pull out my headphones to put on and try to entertain myself with music or a movie. Even though I know neither will be enough to distract me from Brody.

I thought, the entire flight back, all I would be thinking about was Gabe and how to handle him. Instead, I feel a hatred I’ve never felt for a man before. And I’ve felt plenty of hatred for men before. Gabe did a number on me just before I came here.

Brody thinks he’s a prick, and he is. That’s what I wanted when I came here. An asshole who would make it easy for me to forget about him once I left here. I didn’t realize just how much of an asshole he could be. And I made a mistake, thinking it would be easy for me to forget about a dick like Brody after I left. It will be easy to move on from him to another guy when I get back, but I won’t be able to forget him. This hatred that I feel will stay with me for far too long after I return home. Brody won’t be forgotten, just hated. And I have a feeling that is exactly what he wanted. He isn’t the kind of man who would allow me to forget.

8

Brody

I hear a knock on my office door for the hundredth time today. I exhale deeply to keep from doing what I want to do. Telling my assistant to call everyone in the building and demand they all go home so that I can get some real work done. I have a shit-ton of papers to go through and more emails to answer than I could possibly read, and I have some important decisions to make in regard to if we are going to be ready for the launch of our video game that happens in less than three weeks. Because, if we aren’t ready, I need to save the company millions of dollars and postpone it now rather than waiting.

“Come in,” I snarl at whoever is behind the oak door.

I like my office closed off from the world. The door is solid, the same with the walls. No one can see into my world unless I let them. I don’t even have that many windows to look outside. I might be the most important person at the company, but I don’t have the nicest office, just the most secluded. But it doesn’t prevent me from having to deal with idiots knocking on my door all day.

The door opens, and a young woman steps inside. She’s probably in her early twenties. She looks put together but far too eager to be in my office right now. She hasn’t been yelled at nearly enough to have the look of despair that everyone else in my office knows well enough to wear on their faces when they enter my office. I’m a controlling fucker who wants things done my way. The proper way. I don’t accept mistakes. You get one shot to impress me, and if you don’t, you’re gone.

The woman standing in front of me is already failing. She thinks she’s going to impress me because she looks good in her light-colored skirt and jacket. She’s wrong. It takes a lot more than lean legs to get me off.