The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

32. I think I Might be Dying

Jared

Can a person die from a hard-on? Because I think I might be dying.

After having my mouth on Sophie, making her explode with ecstasy as the sweet, breathy sounds she made rang in my ears, I wanted nothing more than to sink balls-deep into that heaven and never return. But despite that small foray into the land of taboo office behavior, I’m a professional. I don’t keep condoms in my desk. Hell, the only reason I had one on me last night was because I’d stopped at the drugstore on my way to Sophie’s place…and the box is still in my car.

When she realized we couldn’t have sex, she insisted on hitting her knees and sucking me off, but I couldn’t let her do it. I’m fully aware it’s a double-standard considering I just spread her out on my desk and licked her into oblivion, but something about my assistant giving me a blow job from beneath my desk feels wrong. Too cliché. And the mere thought made me feel like a misogynistic asshole.

Maybe if we were in a relationship…

“Stop.”

I mutter the word under my breath as my eyes dart, once again, toward the blind-covered window. I decided not to raise the blinds after Sophie left, knowing I’d get nothing done if I could see her out there at her desk. But as it turns out, having the blinds drawn makes no difference.

I keep looking in that direction, imagining her at her desk. Imagining her back in here, on top of mine. My cock buried inside her sweet heat as she moans my name with supreme reverence. Calling me sir while she begs for more.

I groan, my hand snaking down between my legs to adjust myself for the five-hundredth time since this morning. I briefly consider closing myself in my private bathroom and taking care of the matter, but the idea of fucking my hand is wholly unappealing.

Not after I’ve had her.

I look at the time and realize it’s almost six. Sophie will be leaving soon, and I wonder if she’ll sneak out without saying goodbye again. I almost wish she would. That would give me the perfect excuse to show up at her apartment again.

A light knock on my door meets my ears, and my heartrate picks up. Admonishing myself for acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush, I clear my throat and call out an invitation to enter. The door cracks open, and Sophie pokes her head inside.

“I’m getting ready to head out, and I just wanted to say goodbye,” she says, adding a little smirk at the end of her statement.

I’m on my feet and rounding my desk before I can stop myself. Sophie’s eyes widen, and she glances over her shoulder briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. When she turns back, I’m on her, pressing her back against the door and devouring her mouth with mine. Our tongues meet, and a sexy groan vibrates from her chest as her fists clench around the material of my shirt.

Before things get too heated, I pull back and lick the taste of her from my lips. She whimpers quietly, and it’s my turn to smirk.

“Now, that’s a proper goodbye,” I say, my voice low and thick.

She’s panting quickly as she nods, then jerks me forward and seals her mouth to mine once more. We kiss for ages, and that hard-on I thought was going to kill me earlier becomes almost painful. Sophie breaks off the kiss, her harsh breaths making her chest heave dramatically as she meets my eyes.

“Goodbye, sir,” she says cheekily, then twists the knob and ducks out before I can grab her and pull her back.

Her laughter is the sweetest music, and I’m having a hard time holding my stern expression when she glances over her shoulder and winks at me.

“Brat,” I mutter, shaking my head as I step back and push my door closed.

I should spank her for that.

The impulsive thought sends even more blood rushing to my groin, and I’m glad no one is watching as I walk kind of bow-legged back to my desk. I try to focus on work now that I know she’s gone, but it’s no use. I can’t stop thinking about her.

And I’m almost ready to seek medical attention for this never-ending erection.

That woman is going to be the death of me. I just know it.

* * *

When I get homefrom work, I can’t help but notice the mausoleum-like silence of the place. It’s thick and inescapable, even when I spend several minutes feeding and petting Deuces. His gentle mewling isn’t enough to break the chokehold of loneliness.

I blame Sophie.

Everything was fine until she barreled her way into my life, and the solitude I once found peaceful is utterly unbearable. I can see her sitting in my kitchen, eating food I’ve prepared and smiling with surprise because she finds it delicious and never expected me to be a decent cook.

Deuces jumps up on the counter, and I smile as I imagine her shying away, her irrational superstition no longer annoying, but endearing. I realize what I’m doing and my smile drops.