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Closing my eyes, I bite a chunk of it and chew. The banana flavor bursts in my mouth along with the peanut butter, and it’s… so good. I moan loudly as my eyes land on Atlas’s. It feels too intimate, the way he feeds me another bite.
A smile spreads across his face. “The last time I heard you moan, my dick was in your pussy.”
I nearly choke on my sandwich. “Shut up.”
He groans. “What I would give to hear you moan again.”
As I eat the sandwich, my gaze drops down to his dick print, and my mouth waters as arousal rushes to my core.
“Your yacht with the hot tub.”
“I’ll loan you my yacht as long I fuck you on it.”
“In your dreams.”
“It’s not a dream, Boots. Think of it as… as… a manifestation. I know you’re going to cave to my tongue and dick pretty soon. It’s you who has to come to grips with it. I already picked out the perfect lingerie I want you wearing as I fuck you.” He smirks.
I melt into a puddle as I sink my teeth into my plump bottom lip. “Leave with your arrogant ass.”
He laughs, standing up from the chair. “My stylist will be at your place Saturday morning for the fashion gala.”
“Did you buy your old assistants dresses to?”
He slides his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head. “You’re the only woman I like to spend my money on. My other assistants had to pay out of their own pockets for their dresses.”
“Aww. I feel so special.” I try so hard to sound sarcastic, but it comes out sincere.
He waltzes over to me, leans down, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You should.” He clears his throat. “Go back to work, I don’t pay you to flirt with your boss,” he jokes.
I bat my eyelashes. “Dammit, and I was about to give him the best blow job of his life.”
I shouldn’t flirt with him in any way and I’m crossing all the lines I’ve drawn.
His mouth inches from mine, I want to lean in a little farther so our lips touch. “Don’t tempt me, Boots. If you weren’t friend-zoning me, I would take you over my desk and fuck you until you are screaming my name.”
Someone clears their throat, and we both glance up to find Alyssa standing in the arch of the doorway, her eyes bouncing between us. No doubt she heard what Atlas just said. I immediately revert my eyes to my computer, pretending to read a document.
“Mr. Blackwood is ready to start the meeting, he wants to move it up because he has to meet with the director of the HR company.”
“Very well,” Atlas murmurs.
I glance at Alyssa, and she stares at me a little longer before sadness clouds her face, then she leaves.
For the rest of the week, I work like crazy, leaving work late. Ever since Atlas flirted with me, Alyssa has been avoiding me, and Ember asked me a few times if there was something going on between us, and I denied it, but I suspect Alyssa told her what she saw in the office. It shouldn’t bother me that she told Ember. I need to be more careful of who I’m around before the rest of my co-workers figure out what’s going on between Atlas and me.
The doorbell makes me jump from my couch, and anticipation eats at me as I swing the door open. A man and a woman stand in front of the door. They both glue their eyes to my scar, before they look at each other, then back at me. I’m so over people and their bullshit over the way I look.
“Hello, I’m Atlas’s stylist, Miguel, and this is Harley. She’s going to do your hair and makeup. You must be Lake.”
I nod. “Come in.”
I open the door wider for them to walk through. They set up their luggage, making my living room more of a glam room. Several moments later, another woman brings in different dresses from expensive designers. I recognize some of them and have a few in my closet.
Miguel holds up a dress in front of me, tosses it, then another one, and another one.
“This is your dress.” Happiness bubbles in his tone, and he walks me to the back. “Go put it on.”
I do what he says. The blood red dress hugs my frame, showing off my curves and ass, the fabric made out of fine silk. The gown is so long, it drags against the floor, and real diamonds decorate the corset. It cost over a million dollars. Slowly, I trail to the living room, and Miguel opens a box of red Stuart Weitzman stilettos. Those shoes are over one point six million dollars alone. I place my feet into the elegant shoes and walk a few feet.
