Page 27 of Craving Cooper

Perhaps she went out today, and they stumbled across each other, spent some time together, and he came back to her place…

I shudder against the thought, because it doesn’t feel right, either.

Mallory isn’t someone who’d have sex on a first date… especially not with a complete stranger. Unlike me, she’d get to know her lovers first, or they’d be men she’s already familiar with. She wouldn’t share herself with someone she didn’t know.

And yet the noise is getting louder. Whoever the guy is, he’s showing her a fantastic time, and my cock hardens still further at that thought. I reach down and rub it through my jeans, thinking about how Mallory would look, lying out on a bed, naked. I’m having to use my imagination, although I know she’s got an incredible, curvy figure and firm, full breasts. Her best feature, though, is undoubtedly her ass, which is even better than the one I conjured in my dream. I already knew that before I saw her in her cut-off shorts, because I notice things like that, and in Mallory’s case, I noticed on the first day she came to work for me.

As for her face… what can I say? She’s undeniably beautiful, with the blondest of blonde hair, sea-blue eyes that sparkle when she smiles, porcelain clear skin and generous lips, which I imagine parted and smiling, as she builds toward her orgasm. I can hear it, her whimpers becoming sighs, becoming moans, becoming screams, and I know she’s coming. Hard. Jesus… what must it be like to watch her… to see her writhing through a climax like that?

I can’t take much more. My cock hurts like hell and I stand, trying to relieve the agony and take my mind off of thinking about what’s going on upstairs… although I can’t. All I can do is picture Mallory as she calms, imagine her gorgeous body uncoiling itself, her baby blue eyes opening and fixing on me… no, on him.

Whoever he is…

I feel a pang of jealousy, tinged with a little guilt. Should I really be thinking about Mallory like that? Probably not.

No. Definitely not. I’m her boss. I shouldn’t be thinking of burying myself balls deep in my receptionist.

Should I?

“No!”

I stride into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor before I step into the shower. My cock is painfully hard, and I need to come, but there’s a voice inside my head – which I guess must be my conscience – telling me that’s the worst idea I think I’ve ever had. No matter how much I want her, I know if I start down the road of jerking off while thinking about Mallory, it’s going to be impossible to face her at work in the morning.

The problem is, I can’t remember the last time I was this hard, and no matter what my conscience is telling me, it’s too much. I can’t help myself… I place my hand around my dick, stroking it from tip to base as I lean back against the cool tiles.

“Fuck, yeah…” I murmur, closing my eyes and trying to think about someone other than Mallory. Meredith is nowhere to be found in my imagination, and as for any of her predecessors, it’s a struggle to even remember what they looked like. Still, I’m more than capable of conjuring random perfection in my dreams. I’ve done it before, more times than I want to think about, and I suck in a breath, trying to focus… except the only vision I can conjure is Mallory’s lovely legs. She’s wearing those shorts, and I give in to my wildest fantasies, and picture myself reaching around from behind her to unfasten them. She squirms in to me as I push them down, revealing the most perfect ass in the world, framed by a white lace thong. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven as I tip her forward, my fingers roaming toward their goal. Jesus… just the thought of that is… “Oh shit.” I throw my head back, letting out a load groan of burning need, as I spurt hot come in a high arc, my head spinning and my body convulsing, spasming through the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced. It’s never been like that, and as my body calms, I look around the room, dazed and wondering what the hell just happened.

Chapter Seven

Mallory

It’s been nearly a week since I spent the day with Cooper, helping Brady and Laurel move into their new home… and I have to say, it’s been the strangest week.

Why?

Because Cooper’s been behaving so weirdly around me.

When I got down here on Monday morning, I thought he’d maybe make a joke of some kind about the weekend, and how tiring it had been. His had obviously been worse than mine. He’d spent Sunday with Meredith, and no doubt hadn’t been given a moment’s peace… although I couldn’t imagine he’d be complaining about that. Even so, it would have been nice to make conversation, or just have some kind of acknowledgement.

Instead, he stopped in his tracks the moment he saw me. He was coming out of the lunchroom with a cup of coffee in his hand and he studied my face for a second or two, then darted into his surgery, closing the door behind him.

He hasn’t shut himself away all week, but I’ve only seen him fleetingly, and when he’s had to speak to me, he’s kept it completely professional, barely even making eye contact.

Before last weekend, he was friendly. He might have asked me about my evening, or taken an interest in the weather, or what I was having for lunch. I know that’s nothing earth shattering, but it was better than the man he is now… who doesn’t seem to care at all. It’s like I’ve ceased to exist outside the confines of my desk, and that just makes me miserable.

So miserable I haven’t even reached for my trusty vibrator all week… not once. How could I, when the only image I have of Cooper is of him ignoring me, scurrying into his room, or turning his back on me? The thought of making myself come, while thinking about him, has been too hard… too painful.

I’m relieved I’ve made it to Friday without crying in front of him. At least all I have to do is get to the end of the day, and I can have the weekend to myself. I can cry as much as I like in the privacy of my own apartment. And no doubt I will, once Meredith arrives and I have to listen to the two of them together… again.

I take an early lunch, not to avoid seeing Cooper, but because it works best around his schedule today, and I wander across to the delicatessen to grab a sandwich, deciding that I might even eat it upstairs in my apartment. I usually sit at my desk, or in the lunchroom, but I’m done with being ignored by Cooper. He’s made himself scarce all week. I don’t know where he’s eaten his lunch, but it hasn’t been anywhere near me.

I have to wait in line, but because I’ve already decided I want a chicken salad on herb focaccia, I glance around the store, trying to work out whether I want a bag of potato chips to go with my sandwich. I shouldn’t, but it’s been one of those weeks. Clenching my fist to avoid reaching out to the display, I let my eye wander to a poster on the wall. It’s advertising the Fall Festival, which is due to take place tomorrow, and although the design is a little amateur, it’s full of information about the stalls and entertainment that will be on offer. I guess I could take a look. At least if I’m not in the apartment, I won’t have to listen to Cooper and Meredith showing each other a good time.

“Can I help?” I startle at the voice of the lady behind the counter and step forward, smiling.

Her name tag says she’s called ‘Diana’, and although I’d say she’s no more than thirty, she looks a little worn out. It’s a feeling I can empathize with.

“I’ll take a chicken salad on herb focaccia, please.”

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