Page 24 of Taste of Addiction

Sophia starts to argue, but he just glares daggers at her.

“I’m injured!” she yells. “I need a doctor! Someone notify Graham!”

“Oh, he’ll be notified,” Collins says, his lack of patience showing in his tone. “Austin, please escort Miss Chantel to her room.”

“I really wanted to take another swing at her,” I say quietly to him. “She’s going to make me lose all my control. Can you at least see how I’m trying my best not to engage with her?”

“You’re doing better than I ever would be able to if I was in your position,” Collins says, releasing his hold on me.

It is the first time he gives me a real answer and not some polite canned one that seems rehearsed. Then it occurs to me that he could have easily stopped me from attacking her but chose to let me have the chance to even out the score. I smile up at him and mouth a “thanks.” I gather my plate and mug, cringing at how my hand is starting to throb now that the shock has worn off.

“I’ll get something for your hand.”

I watch as he moves over to the freezer and pulls out an ice pack. He then wraps it in a dish towel. “Thanks,” I mutter, taking it from him and placing it over the tops of my knuckles. “I’m just glad I didn’t break anything.”

“You could have, though,” he says softly. “The power of the punch needs to come from your middle and index fingers. They have the stronger of the bones. Next time keep your forearm and knuckles in alignment.”

I look at Collins in disbelief. “Wow.” I shake my head as if I am trying to wake myself up from a dream. “Never in a million years would I ever think we would be talking punching technique right now.”

He shrugs, as if it is no big deal. It is like another wall that he has built around himself has come crashing down. “I’ll make sure Mr. Hoffman knows the entire situation.”

I look down at the cloth-covered ice pack. “Thank you.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Do you mind keeping the media room free for thirty minutes so I can watch a show without Sophia trying to get me to punch her again in the face?”

“Done,” Collins says.

“I appreciate it.”

I make my way through the house until I find the dark room with the leather reclining chairs. I grab the remotes and turn on the trashiest TV show series I can find. While I am seeking out something mindless, the dating show has the opposite effect by making me bursting at the seams with sexual tension. Watching these men and women making out and taking secret rendezvous is just making me miss Graham even more. I just want to go back to my room and take care of the itch between my legs.

I take my dishes back to the kitchen to be loaded into the dishwasher, then make my way upstairs to the bedroom. It is four o’clock and I’m not sure I can get through the day without taking the edge off. I take off my top layer of clothes and lean back onto the bed. I pull the comforter up to my neck and settle into the mound of pillows.

I close my eyes and snake my hand down into my satin panties. I am wet. I have been since the video call with Graham. I pull my folds apart and slip my finger inside my entrance, pumping it a few times before sliding it out to play with my clit. Everything feels good, like it usually does, but I am missing one important element—Graham. I need him. I reach for my phone and text him a simple message.

Angie: My body misses the feel of your cock in me.

The Boyfriend: Fuck.

I smile at his one-word answer and type out one of my own.

Angie: My fingers just don't satisfy me like you can.

The Boyfriend: In a meeting and all I can think about is you. And your needy pussy.

I bite my lower lip and feel my fingers get even wetter. This flirting is surprisingly fun, but I think I need to take it up a notch. Why have all of this technology and not utilize it to the max? Graham sends me another message before I can respond to his previous one. I know I have him hooked.

The Boyfriend: What are your hands doing baby? Send me a pic.

I ignore his request and decide to do something better. I grab my iPad and open up the video call app. Then I click his name. It takes several rings before he answers. Immediately I get a text from him on my phone.

The Boyfriend: My kitten wants to be a tiger? Sitting at the head of the conference room table. You’re on mute. Carry on with your fun.

I read over his message and can hear the chatter in the background about profit models and supply order deadlines. I smile seductively into the camera, fold over the comforter to reveal my black bra, and then pull my hand from my panties to lick each of my sticky fingers.

Graham clears his throat and narrows his eyes at the screen, watching every move I make. He looks on edge, almost angry. I prop my iPad up beside me so he can see me from my head down to my waist. I kick my legs on top of the bed and close my eyes as I pleasure myself. I lose myself to the motions, and if it wasn’t for the buzz of my phone on the end table, I may have forgotten to check in on Graham. I look at his message and laugh.

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