Page 32 of Over My Dead Boss
Phoenix takes Nana home after we had an early dinner and I do the dishes while Dog sleeps on the couch, both of us waiting eagerly for him to come back, or so I would assume. A little later, I hear a loud yell from the living room.
“No, bad dog!” Phoenix yaps. “I thought we were done with this.”
I hang the towel on its rack and step into the living room to discover Phoenix holding a pair of glasses in his hands. But instead of a pair, it’s two pieces snapped in half.
“How did you even do that?” he asks and turns to me. “Sorry about that. I’ve had many a stern talk with her but she loves chewing things. I’ll buy you a new pair tomorrow.”
“That’s ok,” I say and am happy that I only need the glasses for reading and not for looking at the handsome face that seems rather apologetic about what his dog did. “I am sorry we couldn’t keep up with our schedule today, but I had a delightful time with Nana. She’s the best. I wish I still had a grandma like her.”
“Pff,” Phoenix spits a little while shaking his head, “seems to me she already adopted you. I think she likes you better than she likes me.”
I grin and throw myself onto the couch next to Dog to scratch her ears. “Well, Dog, seems like you just threw a wrench in the works, or rather you ate the works… or the wrench. Anyway, I guess that means no reading time tonight. Too bad. I was looking forward to it.”
Next to us, Phoenix gives a little sigh, walks over to his desk, opens the drawer and retrieves one of his notebooks, then takes a seat on the other side of Dog. “It’s still rough. I’ll need you to edit it.” His voice is low and soothing and I nod giddily when he begins to read out loud. The story picks up where I last had to stop. I hang onto his every word until my staring apparently makes him too uncomfortable, and he extends one of his hands to block my view, all the while continuing to read. Slowly, I move up and down to evade his hand, until he finally looks over at me and our eyes meet.
“Stop it or I’ll have to stop reading.”
“Please don’t interfere with my process of editing. It is of the utmost importance that I get to stare while you read to me. I am sorry, but I don’t make the rules.”
His eyes narrow in an attempt to appear intimidating, which really only makes him look more adorable now that I inspect it closer.
“I think I know what’s happening,” I say and push his hand away. “You didn’t get your allotted Grumpy Time today, and it shows. You need to release some pressure. Come on, let me have it.”
His eyes glance me over once before closing entirely, a steady stream of air escaping from between his luscious lips. Then he looks away and nods slowly. “You’re probably right. Release pressure. Good idea.” The book closes with a thud. “I am grumpy about…” Phoenix thinks for a surprisingly long time before continuing. “I am grumpy that sometimes I can’t stream my music because the internet connection sucks out here.”
“Can’t you buy your personal satellite to take care of that?”
Without even looking at me, he carries on. “And I am grumpy that sometimes when my hands are dirty, I can’t slide up my sleeves properly and then they get wet when I try to wash my hands.”
“If I were you, I’d be grumpy that my shirts rip each morning when putting them on from all my muscles.”
He shakes his head and releases another slow breath. “And I am grumpy because sometimes the left pocket of my pants catches on the knob of the kitchen cabinet, yanking me back while handling hot food.”
“Well, lucky for you, the solution to most of your problems seems to be rather easy.” I give him a wide grin and the same look-over he gave me earlier. “Seems like those things would be solved if you just don’t put on any clothes anymore. And don’t worry,” I pat his arm to encourage him teasingly, feeling the heat travel from his skin to mine. “I promise I won’t sue for sexual harassment this time.”
“Alright, that’s it.” Phoenix jumps up, throws his notebook into my lap and briskly walks away and up the stairs.
“I…” My eyes follow him while my brain is trying to figure out if I overdid it this time. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to… offend?” My words echo through the living room, but he is already gone, his door slamming shut with a bang.
Maybe my attempt at making a joke wasn’t that great, but this is the first time I ever made someone run away from my — possibly questionable — humor. His complaints, all things considered, don’t seem to be that bad and they are certainly not the cause for his sudden escape. Nonetheless, they get stuck in my mind and I have a hard time letting go of them. Music, pants pockets, shirt sleeves. Eventually, I decide that I have a job to do, which is actually important, and begin to read the new chapters in his notebook. They’re brilliant as usual, but I just can’t concentrate, so instead I reach for my phone and text my best friend.
Olivia: Update: He’s writing the book. Update II: He also just ran away from me because I made a joke about him being naked.
Sienna: Do you want my opinion as a professional romantic?
Olivia: Probably not.
Sienna: Both of you need it bad. Cabin fever. You only see each other. You in your sexy lingerie, he in his perfectly tailored pants. Gotta bang it out. Get rid of all the sexual tension and frustration. I see no other options.
Olivia: Sometimes it’s hard to believe I still come to you for advice…
Sienna: Ha! I know, right? Well, do as I say, not as I do, ok?
We text some more before I get back to editing the new chapters. Judging by the plot and amount of words, I reckon we’re about halfway through the book and I am a little disappointed that I still don’t know what Noël is writing in those damned books of his or if he’ll end up with Roan after all. I have reread all the chapters at least three times, but I am still none the wiser. Maybe Phoenix doesn’t know himself. Maybe that’s why he’s struggling to finish this series of his.
After I make the last annotation, I retire to my room, take a shower while brushing my teeth and fall into bed. Inevitably, my mind keeps replaying the day, recalling images of Phoenix’s skeptical face poking over the fence, his intense look when doing something as mundane as measuring the right amount of flour, or him bending down to the oven, putting his fantastic ass on display. Without me noticing, my hand instinctively moves down my stomach and into my panties. I think about the blue in his eyes as they follow my curves, look at me from head to toe and I notice how wet I am. Very fucking wet. I think about Phoenix grabbing me by my waist, holding me tight as my fingers begin to draw slow circles, causing my breath to get stuck in my throat. I think about his dimples, the corner of his lips pulling into a smile which he’s trying hard to hide, and I think about how those lips would feel on my skin as I rub my clit faster. A quiet moan escapes my mouth when I imagine him pinning me down on his couch, biting and teasing me as he explores my body, eventually spreading my legs apart, rough and assertive. I imagine what it would feel like if he pressed his mouth on my pussy, sucking it lightly. I moan again and it echoes through the room, louder than before. His tongue would draw circles where my hand is right now, a pressure building steadily. He would suck and lick and nibble at an ever-increasing pace. And I could do nothing but enjoy. The view of him between my legs. The sensations he’d cause. The orgasm building up more and more. I imagine him getting me close, so close, but stopping just before I can come, only to shove himself inside me. Grunting from deep within. And just that is enough for me. Just then, I do actually come. My orgasm surging through my body. I bite down on my own hand to prevent myself from screaming.
After I finish, I lay awake with my eyes wide open, unable to even blink. All I can do is breathe. In and out. Fast and short, until, eventually, I calm down a little. I wish someone was there to slap me across the face because this was very inappropriate. In theory, I know there’s nothing wrong with imagining things, even things like this, but for some reason it feels like I just committed a crime. A crime against my principles, my convictions. I have never allowed myself to be this out of control, this unchecked. I have priorities and I have them straight. My breathing slows down to almost normal.Maybe this was good. Maybe this was needed to just get it out of my system.
