Page 34 of One Taste
Devin
Iexit Penn Station, walkingup the elongated stairs that lead to the city’s streets. The crisp morning air tickles my nose and the noise of New York City rustles inside my ears. I love this city, but Monday mornings still suck.
I hail a cab passing by, and when he pulls over to the curb, I climb inside.
“Forty-ninth and Madison, please.”
“Sure thing, miss.”
The cab moves through the streets, and I take a sip of my coffee, trying to calm my nerves. I brush my hands over my skirt, picking off any speck of dust or hair I see on the black material to distract myself.
Brielle and I spent all last night picking out the perfect outfit for today. I went for sophisticated, but nothing too sexy. We settled on a just-above-the-knee pencil skirt, a cream-colored blouse, and my red Louboutin’s—a perfect first-impression outfit that screams professional and stylish according to Brielle. She said the red-heels give off a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. She then rapped Cardi B, so I left the room.
I’m more nervous for today than any other first day I’ve had. I should be a pro at this considering I’ve spent the last six years of my life looking for the next job to take me to the next level. But none had a “fuckable” CEO. I slept like shit last night, tossing and turning. All I could think about was Brielle being right and him being the hottest man I’ve ever met, and in turn causing me to become a stupid woman dazzled by a dimple and chiseled jaw. It seems like he has that power if he continues to get women to leave clubs or wherever with him, knowing they’ll most likely end up in the papers in what I’m sure is an unflattering photo.
Maybe Brielle was fucking with me and he’s hideous. Perhaps these women only leave with him because he’s rich. It isn’t like Brielle wouldn’t do something like that. She is exactly the type of friend to pull a stunt like this. Making me crazy all week thinking about how I’m going to fight being attracted to my new co-worker.
Ugh! Why do I even care if he is Henry Cavill hot?
I’m here to do a job and that’s it. I blame Brielle for even putting the idea in my head to begin with. I probably would have never thought of him in a sexual way if she never said anything. But, then again, maybe I would have. Since hooking up with Brooks over a week ago, I feel completely sexually unsatisfied.
It’s almost as if now that I hooked up with someone, I want it so much more. Between my tossing and turning last night, I had to get myself off just to get some relief from everything building inside me.
I can’t stop thinking about him and our night together.
I’ve never in all my life experienced a dick that big.
Hell, I’ve never even seen a dick that large except in porn.
God, it’s consuming me.
I’m distracted already, and I haven’t even met the hot CEO yet.
Fuck.
When I saw Brooks walk into the bar, I was instantly drawn to him. I could tell he was a man who looked that good without trying. And, he knew he looked good. Maybe that’s why I was so infatuated with him at first, because I could tell he didn’t try to look that good, he just did.
I still can’t believe I slept with a total stranger.
But what a night it was.
Memories flood my mind. I was a hot mess when I got into the cab and left the hotel. For starters, I had to be walking as if I had a stick up my ass… or a dick. Brooks fucked me so good and so many times, in so many positions, I could barely walk.
I’m still shocked I even had a one-night stand at all. It’s out of character. But I’d say being a little tipsy helped. I wanted to unwind and, damn, did I ever. It was the best sex I’ve ever had with the hottest guy I’ve ever touched. A night of fucking in almost every position we could maneuver ourselves into, and it was downright amazing.
I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that night, even if I know I have to.
Which is painfully obvious as I’m still obsessing over it a week later.
I have other problems, problems that include dealing with restoring a company’s image.
Anxiety floods my chest as I think of all the possibilities of starting at a new company. I’ve seen a lot over the last six years. Women can be catty as hell when someone new steps on their turf, and men can be territorial when it comes to women in their domain. I know that’s not the case in every situation, but I’ve witnessed it more often than not.
Leaning back, my head bangs against the headrest with an audiblethump. My thoughts flicker between my new job at Midtown Advertising and Brooks—the most gorgeous man with the most incredible cock. I’m all over the damn place, but I blame it on first day jitters.
“We’re here,” the cab driver announces.
I look out the cab window and see the corner building housing Midtown Advertising. I almost forgot how amazing this building is. It looks like it should be in a goddamned movie. Lined with glass windows all the way up what seems to be fifty floors, I see my reflection staring back at me in the doors as I step out of the cab. It’s beautiful.
