A strangled laugh escapes me. “Oh my God. I cannot do that.”
“Why not? That’s how you started this whole WordIt thing, because he was desperate to have you. You said he’s rock hard every time you fool around. Maybe he doesn’t want to rush you. He’s waiting for you to be ready to suck his monster cock.”
“Jesus, Jules.” My eyes dart to the door. The conference room is all glass. We’re in a fishbowl. I just hope no one passing by can read lips.
“No one can hear us.”
With Barrett’s nightly WordIt victories this week, I’ve gotten over the anxiety I was feeling about hooking up with him, feeling awkward about his mouth between my thighs. We’ve done things I never even considered, let alone thought I would like.
It’s because I trust Barrett. I like giving him control of my body, knowing he will make it good while also pushing me out of my comfort zone. I can’t imagine feeling that way with someone else. These thoughts stray way outside of the ‘we’re just hooking up because we’re fake dating’ boundary that I’ve assured Jules I’m staying inside of.
When Lauren texted me earlier and asked if I had a plus one to her wedding—she’s trying to decide if she wants a head table with all the wedding party or a sweetheart table for just her and Jeff—I only fantasized about Barrett spinning me around the dance floor in his tux for ten minutes before I responded that I would be dateless.
Barrett and I will be broken up then. The six-week timeline for our agreement will be expired. While we’ve hooked up, Barrett hasn’t indicated that anything has changed. We’re still getting what we both want, but now I’m getting orgasms.
I grab another bag from the stack and go through the motions of filling it. Jules continues to work, her focus no longer on Barrett’s monster cock, but telling me a story about the date she went on last night. The guy asked if they could have sex before they went to dinner because he doesn’t perform well on a full stomach.
As Jules continues her story, I think about the blank space I have left on my list. Jules is right. I don’t want to wait any longer to put my mouth on Barrett.
CHAPTER 23
Barrett
I’m drafting an email when Chloe bursts through my office door. I’d be surprised if I wasn’t so fucking happy to see her there.
Every night this week we’ve played WordIt to determine who gets the pleasure of making the other one come. Every night this week I’ve won and fucked Chloe with my fingers and tongue. It’s been a measure in restraint not giving in when she reaches for my belt. Pulling away from her warm, sweet body every night. But it’s been necessary. I’m dying to be inside her, but I want Chloe to be comfortable before we move on to the next step, because I know when that happens, I won’t be able to hold anything back.
She’s breathing hard, like she ran here in her red high heels, the same color as her lips again today.
“Hi,” she says, still working to catch her breath.
“Hi,” I say, standing from my desk chair.
She turns to lock the door before striding over to move between me and my desk. Needing to be closer, I slide my hand to her hip and pull her to me.
“This is a nice surprise.” I smile down at her.
“Do you have lunch plans?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear.
I glance at my watch with my free hand. “In twenty minutes. Should I cancel?”
“No, that should be enough time.”
“Enough time for what?” I ask, curious to find out what has her bursting into my office.
Her hands grip my arms and I immediately notice the absence of Frankie’s Faux Nails. Chloe’s nails have been transformed to their usual, much shorter, state and covered in a soft pink polish.
“I like your nails,” I say, taking one hand and examining them more closely. “The color will look nice against my sheets when I pin your hands above your head later.”
Chloe’s eyes go wide, a momentary falter before she regains her focus.
“We’ll see about that,” she says playfully. “By the way, I think you’re cheating at WordIt.”
My lips quirk at her accusation. I will neither confirm nor deny it.
“The last four nights have demonstrated I’m a superior WordIt player. I’m determined to win. The prize,” I slide my hand under her skirt, “is, after all, very motivating. Did you want to play now?”
“No.” She moves out of my grip to pull a piece of paper from her purse. I recognize it as her list. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to beat me every night but I can’t take it anymore.” She sets it on my desk and points to her writing. “I’ve added giving you a blow job to the list. I didn’t want it to come to this, but it’s a necessity at this point. I can’t focus on anything else. I’ve got the Books 4 Kids event tonight. I’ll be distracted at best, deranged at worst. I won’t be able to form coherent sentences with you next to me while I think about the weight of you in my hand. And I can’t be wondering what your dick might feel like in my mouth while I’m handing out books to children. It wouldn’t be right.”