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Oh god, do I want to play.
12
James
Casey feeds a hunger I didn’t realize I had. Challenging me was her first misstep. After I drop her off at the radio station, I’m going to debate buying a bigger car. I need a car more conducive to fucking, like I want to right now. I imagine soft leather seats that automatically recline at the touch of a button… until Casey interrupts my fantasy.
“James, I have to go.” A trembling mess, Casey pulls back. Our foreheads heaving against each other, dampness fogs the windshield.
“Not yet, you don’t.” I kiss her again, wedging my hand firmly between her delicious thighs, prying them open. Heat, hot and permeating, covers my hand. Rubbing against her earns me a whimper and a squeeze. My hand revels in the pressure, so I wedge a little deeper, trying to get her to open up to me. She’s resistant and a little shy. It’s her unexpected shyness that seduces me.
“James… Tucker is expecting me.”
“I know.” There’s something endearing about how Casey vacillates between her desire to be naughty, and her need to be good. I feel like I’m about to ruin it, telling her the truth about the ad.
“What? How do you know?”
“Because I told him to give you the ad. You deserve it and I want you to do it.” Momentarily, Casey acts like I’ve doused her with a bucket of cold water, her spinning brain killing the mood. I can’t have that kind of distraction when things are feeling so good.
“Why did you do that?” Her brow furrows. I’m not sure how far I need to backpedal here before I dig my own hole.
“Because you have one of the smoothest voices I’ve heard, and this advertiser is a big supporter and buyer of air time. It’s a good opportunity for you.” Which is all true.
“So it’s strictly a business decision?” She asks while I let my fingertip graze against the v between her legs, the last word of her statement unsteady and rising in pitch.
“I’m the boss. I get to make the big decisions.” Her eyes close and mouth parts with my touch. “Is everything always business with you, Casey Cole?”
Eyes still closed, she smiles back at me. “Not always, but I don’t want people thinking I got where I am by sleeping with the boss.” I feel her hand tentatively touch my thigh and inch up to the waistband of my pants.
“But aren’t you?” I’m totally teasing her, even if it’s the wrong choice of words. I feel her fingers pinch me.
“Not for that James. Never for that.” Her fingers continue to explore and she’s got me as much as I’ve got her.
“That’s my girl,” I encourage.
Suddenly, both of our phones buzz, breaking up the momentum of the moment. Disappointment douses the flames.
“Later, James.” She squeezes my dick. Now I’m the uncomfortable one as she moves to get away, a coy smile on her face. Oh, hell the fuck no.
“Such empty promises,” I murmur, pulling her back to me. I kiss her hard again, forcing her lips open. “How do you want it later?” I ask, throwing
her words back in her face.
“What?” Her eyes are dark slits, lips swollen.
“When I fuck you, because I will fuck you later, how do want it?” Casey bites her knuckle, likely to keep from saying something smart-assed, which is cute and infuriating at the same time.
“I’ll get back to you on that.” Quickly, she disentangles herself from me and opens the door.
“Come to my office after you finish recording.” It’s only half an order. I don’t think I’ve ever truly ordered anyone around professionally. When everyone knows you’re the boss, there’s never a need to. Except for Casey, who makes me act like a heavy-handed jackass. I’d like to see her, spend time with her. Wryly, she scrunches up her face, not believing my innocent attempt.
“Maybe,” is the only answer she gives and, for now, it suffices. On unsteady legs, she slips out of my car. Giving me a little salute, she steps inside the garage elevator and out of sight. I watch the elevator’s red numbers increase to floor twenty, giving myself a moment to calm the raging hard on my pants are sporting. Yeah, lounge pants definitely seem like a better and better idea.
13
Casey
“Casey, you’re late.” Tucker removes his headphones in the producer’s booth, eying me up and down with annoyance. I feel myself flush and I rush through the office, avoiding eye contact with him. I probably smell like sex if my wild hair and eyes aren’t enough of an indication.
