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Or I should thank him because the first time she came with a guy was going to be with me. On my fingers, my mouth, my dick. Any of them. ALL OF THEM.
I was suddenly very possessive of Bridget Beckett’s orgasms.
I stood, adjusted my dick, then paced. Fuck, it was hot in here.
Leaning down, I set a hand on the desk beside my laptop, read the next quiz question.
What do you want a guy to do to you in bed? This is anonymous so share your darkest fantasy.
Yes, Bridget… what was your darkest fantasy?
To get on my knees.
I pushed up to standing. Blinked. Leaned back down. Read it again.
To get on my knees? To what, suck a guy’s dick? To pray? To… I had no fucking idea, but the thought of her praying to my dick while it was touching the back of her throat had pre-cum dampening my boxers.
I had a problem. I wasn’t any better than Jason. Probably a hell of a lot worse. Jason just wanted to make women feel like shit by seeing them only as sexual objects.
I… I wanted Bridget. In a sexual way. On her knees, like her fantasy. Hell, it was turning into my darkest fantasy as well.
But only with Bridget. In private. Where I gave her all the orgasms she’d never received.
It was completely different.
Who do you want to do it with? Name your dream lay.
“Who the fuck is Jake Ryan?” I snapped, my voice echoing off the empty office walls. I ran a hand through my hair, stared at the name.
Was that her boyfriend? A guy she was dating? A man in town she had the hots for?
“Fuck!” I shouted. I was lusting after a woman whose dream lay was some fucker named Jake Ryan. “Jesus, I’m totally messed up.”
I closed the quiz, then slapped my laptop closed, went down the hall to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. Because a tiny little math nerd had brought me to my knees.
9
BRIDGET
* * *
“Which one is his?” Mallory asked, following me into the empty office.
It was just as I’d left it not even thirty minutes earlier. It wasn’t dark out, so the overhead lights weren’t needed to see. I pointed to the far desk, the one no one ever used. When James Corp rented out this space in a small office building on the south edge of town, they’d overestimated on office size. Or someone got the math wrong.
“How are you going to get past his password?” she wondered.
“I hate you,” I told her when she pointed out an obvious roadblock in my plan. “I can go in the back way to the company’s firewall and access the password system.”
I dropped into the chair behind the desk.
“You can do that?” she asked, sidling up beside me. “You’re like the computer geek on that TV show.”
I didn’t know which show she meant, and I wasn’t going to ask. I really didn’t want to know the comparison. It was probably some nerdy guy with a pocket protector.
I lifted the lid and the display illuminated.
“Huh.” I pushed my glasses up and blinked. “It’s not protected.”
