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His words, his gaze, the precum dotting the plump head of his rigid cock, everything crashes together, making my pussy seize up. I clamp my legs together, trapping my fingers against my clit as I come like a volcano erupting—suddenly and unapologetically.
Reece grunts as his own release tears through him just as quickly. Ropes of semen shoot from his tip and back down onto his fist still milking away.
“The blazer,” I say before the cum can run down onto his pants.
He catches the mess, wiping every last bit up with the sleeve of my blazer, then looks at me, spent, but with something else in his expression. Something I don’t know and I don’t particularly like.
I don’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ve got a meeting to get to.”
Ungluing my legs, I smear my cum around on the inside of my thighs, down to the hem of my skirt, then stand, smoothing my dry hand down my outfit.
Reece jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re going in there like that? I can smell your cum from here.”
My annoyance follows me across the room. Do I have to spell everything out for him?
“And you almost lost your mind because of it,” I say. “Imagine what that’ll do to an entire room of men.”
“Of sharks,” he says without blinking.
“Exactly.”
“Is that what this was about?” He motions at his lap.
“Tonic immobility. Orcas don’t just go for the kill after giving sharks a hard blow, they mutilate them first by eating specific areas. The liver, the stomach, and…the testicles.”
His eyes fall to my skirt.
“They’ll be so wound up from the scent of my arousal, they won’t be able to focus on what comes next.”
“What comes next?”
I move away from him, hesitating by the door. “Get yourself cleaned up, then get the fuck out of my office and out of my life because you’re fired.”
“Wait.” He swivels in the chair. “Don’t whales work better together? In pods? I just helped you—”
“Don’t flatter yourself, rook. You gave me something semi-interesting to look at while I fingered myself to orgasm. A simple search on my computer could’ve given me better inspiration with quicker results.”
“Sorry I’m not a fucking quickie like you,” he says despite him not sounding sorry in the slightest.
“Tell Cyrus our arrangement is over.” I thought I made that clear at our meeting. “Find yourself a new way to be useful to him. I’m no longer outsourcing help.”
Relying on Cyrus for his got me exactly where it’s always gotten me—fucked.
“Lexi.”
“Don’t call me that. Not here.”
“Lenox,” he says softer, and oddly enough, I have the same knee-jerk reaction. Here, I am Lenox, but right now, I don’t feel like her. I feel torn right down the middle. One foot firmly in my present while one toes my past. Reece isn’t from my past but he lives how I did, reminding me of that life just the same. I’ve become too comfortable in this role, too complacent. I shouldn’t have been.
I forgot my roots, but they’re still very much a part of me, possibly the most important part if I want to get to the bottom of all this.
But if I don’t identify as Lexi and I don’t feel like Lenox, who does that make me right now? A new role entirely?
Or one that’s been here all along, I just haven’t allowed myself to explore her before?
“Let me help you.”
