Page 9 of Devil In A Suit, Vol. 2

Chapter 4

I stayat work until well past six, though I couldn’t even begin to detail how I spent those hours. There are spreadsheets on the desk in front of me, but if I did anything with them, it would be news to me. Mostly I spend my time half my time conjuring memories of what just happened in Jared’s office and the other half willing them away in case someone reads what happened all over my face.

On my knees.

Bent over his desk.

Coming on his cock.

Him coming on my tongue.

When I finally force myself out of the office and onto the train home, the seductive fog that had rested over me like a cool morning begins to lift. And all I can see are questions.

Jared King has now given me two orgasms. The two best orgasms of my life. Hell, the two only orgasms of my life that weren’t self-induced. And yet I still have no idea what’s happening between us. He’s my boss. And a serial dater.

Surely there’s no other way this can end but badly.

And yet every time I get myself to that conclusion, I flash back to the image of my hand cradled in his, to the sound of his voice as he told me that I was “all too real.” And I can’t help but think that there’s something more than just sex here. Hell, there hasn’t even been full-on sex. Not yet, anyway.

Not yet.

And then my mind falls back down the rabbit hole of memory, and I try not to squirm in my seat on the train as I remember the feeling of his tongue on me, of his cock in my mouth, of his orgasm on my tongue.

I’m so distracted I nearly miss my stop and wind up at Alewife. But just before the doors slide closed at Davis Square I leap through them and skid to a stop on the crowded platform.

“Get yourself together, Quinn,” I say to myself, and luckily the rush hours crowds are too thick for anyone to notice a flushed girl breathing heavily and talking to herself.

On my way from the train to my apartment, I swing by my favorite cheap Chinese takeout place and spring for some lo mein and egg rolls. While I’m waiting for my order to come up, my phone rings.

“Hi Janet,” I say as I answer it.

“Please tell me you have some updates about the sex god,” she says. “I spent my entire day loading in, hanging, and staring at oil paintings of rotting animal carcasses while the world’s biggest asshole of an artist mansplained postmodernism to me. I need to hear about some sexy times please!”

I laugh at Janet’s plea while also reveling in the fact that she’s turning to me for sex details. I can’t count the number of Saturday or Sunday mornings we spent over bagels at our favorite Beacon Hill coffee shop while Janet recounted the highlights of her dates the previous evening.

She had a way of adding flair and comedy that made it fun, and even though I never had anything to share with her other than the disappointing fizzles of my own dates, I never minded being her sounding board. But I won’t lie, having something to share with her for once feels pretty damn good.

Of course, sitting in the middle of a crowded takeout place during dinner rush is not really the place to be sharing the details of what Jared did to me today. Of what I did to him. Someone would probably call the cops.

“I’m not really in a good place to talk right now,” I say, but she hears the giddy grin in my voice.

“Oh my god, don’t do this to me! Tell me, did you finally do the deed?”

“Not exactly,” I reply. My voice creeps up an octave. Blush floods my cheeks. The elderly woman sitting next to me waiting on her order gives me a sideways glance like she knows what I’m up to and she doesn’t like it one bit, Missy.

“Not exactly? Ok, but there were sexy times, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yessssss,” she breathes out. “Oh, this could be fun. Let me guess! Did this happen in the office?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, are we talking oral?”

“Yes.”

“You or him?”