Page 8 of Unwrapped

She’s wet for me.

I just know it.

I flirt when I’m bored or pissed as fuck. It helps improve my mood. She hesitates them lifts her eyes finding mine. Grinning like the devil, I cock my head to the side and loosen my tie.

Something has gotten under my skin today and this sweet thing standing at the other end of the room is catching the brunt of it. She continues her sales pitch, listing off reasons why Drago should switch tech support firms to hers. I half-listen as I scroll through my phone, tapping the app that controls everything in my company from office lights to thermostats. I scroll until I find the conference room we are in and adjust the heat setting from 68 to 80 degrees. Just because, I want to see, if what she has under the oversized, boxy suit coat she’s wearing can distract me from the pissy mood I’m in.

The numbers to some of the most beautiful woman in the world are at my disposal. But I think I’m over them all. Instant gratification has lost its appeal. I miss the anticipation of wondering if a woman has freckles on her chest? If her nipples are nickel or quarter-sized? This blonde trying to hide her curves under a boring skirt-suit is making me wonder again.

I sit further back into my chair popping a few buttons open at my neck and slide off my own suit jacket. She swallows hard as I roll the sleeves of my crisp white shirt up to my elbows. My forearms are cut; the veins bulging.

She fans her flushed face, popping open the button on her jacket then a few minutes later taking it off.

Hot damn.

It’s blazing in here! Warm air is streaming down from the ceiling vents, but her nipples are warm rosettes, puckering against her soft silk shirt. The fabric is delicate and thin. and Under the fluorescent lightning overhead, her nipples beaming straight at me.

She stumbles over her words, stops and sips more water. Strands of her hair stick to the side of her neck.

I finally feel my dick stirring. Something my current girlfriend hasn’t managed to do in weeks.

I pick up my laptop and tuck it under my arm as I rise from my seat. I grab my suit jacket and hook it over my shoulder as I stroll down the room, stopping to lean down and whisper in her ear. “Poor execution. But I already knew I’d sign the deal. I did my… homework and your firm is top-notch.”

She bites her lip, holding back a moan. My eyes are drawn to the V where the first few buttons of her blouse are undone giving me a glimpse of her cleavage below.

Well, hello.

I really need a new woman; one that makes my dick swell nice and hard. But one of the few rules I live by is never to dip my stick in anyone who works for me or with me in any capacity. But something tells me, I might be pleasuring myself later to images of blondie and her rosebud nipples.

I stride down the hall listening to the sounds of fingers tapping on keyboards. Christmas music is playing from someone’s wireless speakers. I pause, then turn left, strolling through the rows of cubicles until I find the culprit. Mary McGovern.

“Sir?”

She licks her lips nervously as all six plus feet of me towers over her sitting at her desk.

“Turn it off.”

Her chin quivers as she opens her browser and x’s out of the streaming Internet radio site.

“Thank you. Mary. Not everyone celebrates Christmas and I wouldn’t want any of my other employees to feel …offended.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Good.”

I turn on my heel. Since I hate Christmas, and love, and cheer, and all that other crap I never had, my hands pull the cords from every fake Christmas tree that is lit up on desks as I pass them.

Satisfied. And feeling immensely better, I whistle the song from “Mr. Grinch” as I walk down the hall to my office.

The Grinch had it right. As soon as I round the corner to my office doors, Claudia calls out from her desk in the hall, “I’m very sorry Sir. But Isabella is on line four. She insists on speaking with you.”

What the fuck?

With a sigh, I enter my office and press line four then intercom.

“What now?” I bark.

“Don’t be like this Dare…”

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