Chapter 5 Christopher
Christopher
Something has been off since Ginny broke her arm a week ago, but this morning, there’s an uneasiness following me—a shadow attached to my feet, stalking every step with clutching tendrils of dread.
Everything started simply enough. Normal.
Mase ignored any of my attempts to talk to him, while Ginny was my sweet girl, chattering nonstop over her Wheaties.
She made a sweeping gesture to punctuate her story at one point, her bulky cast sending a cup of milk flying.
Lynley swooped in, mopping up the mess, the conversation carrying on like nothing even happened.
She is always like that, my Lynnie. Quiet. Efficient. The calm in any storm. There are never any surprises, and I’ve always liked that.
Maybe that’s my source of uneasiness. Lynley hasn’t been herself all week, and this morning she turned her head away when I went in for a goodbye kiss.
My lips barely brushed across her cheek before she was already moving away, not even looking at me.
I put her behavior down to stress over Ginny’s arm.
The nape of my neck itches as I walk into the building that houses Reynolds & Media Co., and I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting someone to be lurking behind me. There’s nothing there other than the usual morning foot traffic, and I frown.
I shove the feeling down, cursing myself for being a fool.
There’s no one following me. And it’s probably just Lynley’s time of the month.
The feeling drops away as I step into the elevator and the doors slide closed, and by the time I step out onto the ninth floor, the feeling has dropped away like it was never there at all.
I turn my mind to my schedule for the day, so I don’t see the girl, almost colliding with her as she rushes past. I reach out instinctively, grabbing a hold of her before she falls ass over head.
“I’m so sorry!” She gasps, head lifting, big brown eyes locking with mine. Her dark hair falls in lustrous waves down her back. My palm itches with the urge to wrap the strands around my fist and…pull. As if she can sense my thoughts, she swallows hard, her throat bobbing. “Oh…”
A slow smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. She’s young—early twenties, at most—and her bee-stung lips put an immediate fantasy of her on her knees and my cock stretching her mouth wide. She might struggle to take me, but I’d grip her jaw—
My cock jumps in my slacks—a salute of agreement—and I widen my stance to hide the way it rapidly swells in my briefs.
“I don’t know you,” I murmur silkily, my thumb gently stroking her arm, where I still have a hold of her. “Are you new?”
Her cheeks flush with color, a hazy desire darkening her eyes. And just like that, I know I’ve got her on the hook. There’s a flash of disappointment, wishing it hadn’t been this easy, but I won’t turn down the invitation she’s giving me.
“Um…my name’s Angelica,” she says in a breathless whisper, and a shiver rolls down my spine. “I’m an intern.”
My eyebrows lift. “We don’t normally take on interns this early in the year.”
The blush in her cheeks spreads down her throat and under the collar of her shirt. I track it, wondering just how far it might go down. “I guess they made an exception for me,” she says demurely.
I realize my hands are still on her arms, and I let go, casually tucking my left hand into my pocket. “Christopher,” I tell her smoothly. “I’m head of accounts, so I’m sure we’ll be”—I pause meaningfully—“seeing a lot of each other.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a coy smile on her pink lips. “I’d like that,” she says, a husky note in her voice, even as her upper body tilts toward me—just enough to give me a view straight down to her tits, encased in…something pink and lacy. Fuck me.
“Christopher, I see you’ve met my niece.” A deep voice intrudes on our moment, and I glance to the side just as the CEO, Grafton Reynolds, joins us. As his words land, I take a slow step back, smothering the panic as I try to work out what he might have seen or overheard.
“Morning, Grafton,” I say casually. “She just about bowled me over coming out of the elevator, but that eager work ethic makes sense now.”
His expression doesn’t change, not even a twitch. “Today’s her first day, and”—he lifts his wrist, eyeing his watch pointedly—“if she doesn’t get a move on, she’s going to miss her orientation with her supervisor.”
“Right.” Angelica flashes him a smile before giving me one last look. “It was nice to meet you, Christopher.” I don’t think it’s my imagination that she says my name like she’s savoring it.
An image of her screaming it while I bend her over my desk, fucking her nice and deep, fills my mind. I suck a breath in through my teeth. Her smile widens before she looks at Reynolds again and scuttles away. My eyes follow after her, lingering on the curve of her ass in the tight skirt.
When I finally drag my eyes away, I find Reynolds watching me with an arched brow, his icy blue eyes unreadable, and my palms start sweating.
“Any progress on the Burnham account?”
I falter, covering it up with a confident smile. “We’re still investigating. I should have answers soon.”
“Soon,” he echoes, eyes cold and unblinking. It feels like ice chips are sliding down my spine, freezing any kind of arousal in its tracks. “Well, that’s something, hm?”
His tone is bland, but I don’t let my smile slip. “I’ll get on top of this. You don’t need to worry about it.”
His eyes narrow, just slightly, and then he shakes his head and strides away, leaving me feeling like I’m standing on the bow of a ship in rough seas. I straighten my already straight tie and head for my office, telling myself that I’m not running.
Gail’s already at her desk as I sail past. “Give me ten minutes,” I say as I head through my office door. “And then come give me the schedule for the day.”
Before she can answer, I shut the door and pull out my phone, fingers trembling as I pull up the contact I need. She answers after one ring, her voice husky and sinful.
“Rita,” I say roughly. “Lunch date. Today.”
She laughs, low and seductive, and my dick recovers from the run-in with Reynolds, hardening like light fingers have just wrapped around it and stroked. “What if I’m busy?” she taunts.
“You’re not,” I say, confidence firmly back in place. “Usual place, yeah?”
“Alright, baby,” she purrs. “I’ll be there, and I’ll be dressed to impress.”
“That better mean you won’t be dressed at all,” I growl playfully before cutting the call, the sound of her laughter ringing in my ears.
I shake out my shoulders and head for my desk, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. Reynolds might be on my case, but this date with Rita is exactly what I need to clear my head, leaving me free to figure out who the hell is fucking with me and my career.
Nothing like busting a nut to clean out the cobwebs.
I sit down just as Gail knocks, entering with her notebook and pen in hand. She’s in her usual professional getup—a modest dress and graying hair pinned back in a bun, glasses firmly perched on her nose.
“Cancel any lunch meetings I have scheduled for today,” I say as she stands in front of my desk. I think for a moment, mind full of brown, supple skin and wide hips. “Actually, cancel the ones on either side of lunch as well.”
Something flashes through Gail’s eyes, but she ducks her head, writing on her notepad. “Personal lunch?”
She’s not usually one to ask, and I blink. “Yes.”
“With Lynley?” There’s nothing wrong with her expression, or even the question, but that unease from earlier slithers back in, wriggling around in my brain.
“No,” I tell her slowly. “Not with Lynley. An old friend is in town.”
“How lovely,” she murmurs. “I’ll rearrange your meetings.” She gives me the lowdown on the rest of my day, finishing with, “You have the second conference room booked in thirty minutes for a meeting with the finance team. Would you like me to get you a coffee?”
“Yes, thank you, Gail.” I smile winningly. “I appreciate all your efforts.”
“Of course,” she returns, then spins on her heel and strides out, closing the door behind her quietly.
I shake off the weirdness pushing at me, distracted, when my phone chimes on my desk with a new message, an image attached. I open it and immediately drop my hand to my dick, grinding my palm against it.
The photo is cropped at Rita’s neck, hiding her face.
There’s a silky robe draped over her shoulders, parted to reveal the dark skin of her torso, her pert tits front and center.
Her nipples are a shade darker than everywhere else, and they’re already erect, like she was touching herself for the photo.
My mouth waters, even as the front of my briefs get damp, pre-cum slicking up the head of my cock.
Rita
Hard for me yet, stud? Looking forward to lunch.