The Fantasy (7 page)

“You little shit—”

“Evan...guys, guys,” Reagan cut in. “We’re here for business, not to rehash the past. Do you think you both could manage to put those issues aside for at least a half hour?”

“If you think for one minute that anyone in this office, especially me, is going to trust our investments with him, you must be out of your mind. And so must Bill for that matter.”

He’d been wondering the same fucking thing all morning. He didn’t expect to be forgiven for his transgressions, but there was a part of him that was hoping people had started to forget. Which, coming from him, was hypocritical, because if there was one thing he’d learned in childhood, it was that no one ever really forgot when they had been wronged.
 

“Mr. Whitehead. Ron,” Reagan cajoled and took a step toward him. “Kelman and Whitehead have had such a wonderful relationship over the past several years. We only want to continue that. Evan’s proven to be able to predict where the profit margins will come in almost to the dollar. No one’s track record is better than his.”

The man stayed silent, but the angry flush seemed to be fading from his face and neck.
 

Reagan placed her hand on Ron’s arm and told him with a confident smile, “Plus, I’ll be working alongside him the whole time. You’re getting a two-for-one deal.” She winked.
 

Ron exhaled and patted her hand but still aimed a glare over at Evan, who held his look without flinching. After a few beats, Ron gave a curt nod and gestured for them to follow to his office.

***

“That went well,” Reagan said as they walked out of the building. “Well, aside from the ‘sleeping with the VP’s wife’ comment.”

“Are you fucking serious?” He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face her. “Is this the kind of shit I’ll have to deal with every time I go to a meeting? I mean, Jesus. Why did you and Bill even bother?”

“We bothered because you’re good at what you do.”

Letting out a disgusted sigh, he ran a hand over his face and back through his hair. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but fuck.”  

“Hey, you have an opportunity here. Don’t let anyone scare you away.”

“They don’t scare me. They piss me off. I didn’t make those women spread their legs. They fucking begged for it.”

“Yes, I can see why,” she said as she pushed the wind-whipped strands of hair out of her face. “You’re so...charming.”
 

“Worked for you.”

“I won’t deny that.”

“Then get off my ass.”

She leaned to the side, angling her head as if to get a peek at his behind. “But you have such a nice ass…”

“You’re making it really fucking hard to behave,” he said, pointing accusingly at her. “So unless you want me to pull you inside the nearest hotel to work off my frustration, I’d lay the fuck off the flirting.”

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“By teasing me? Don’t insinuate anything you don’t plan to follow through on.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I think we both know I don’t have a problem with follow through.”

“I’ve noticed, and so has every other man who’s ever laid eyes on you. It’s hard not to be drawn to someone like you.
Femme fatale.
That’s what makes you so dangerous.”

A vixen smile spread across Reagan’s lips. “Oh, you have to stop with the compliments today. First, I’m the devil, and now, a femme fatale? I’m starting to think you like me.”

“I don’t like anyone.” He smirked. “At least not for more than a night.”
 

She let out a loud laugh. “You’re full of shit, Evan James. But I’ll let you keep that cocky exterior up in case anyone tries to see past it.”
 

“How thoughtful,” he grumbled, moving by her to continue down the block.  

“Listen,” Reagan said, catching up with him. “Of course Ron’s still bitter about what happened. His VP’s like a brother, and after everything went down, he took some time off—a
lot
of time off—and their profits took a nosedive.” She paused, and he waited to see what sage advice she was about to spout out next. “Perhaps this can be your moment to...redeem yourself. I’m sure he’ll be much more forgiving once you make him twice what he lost.”

When she nudged him playfully, he looked over at her with a skeptical expression.

Maybe she was right. This was a chance to redeem himself, in both the business and personal worlds. He had to start somewhere—why not the easier of the two?

“I see you survived your first day.”

Evan looked up from packing his briefcase to see Reagan standing in the doorway of his office. “Barely.”

“You do look a little worse for the wear, but at least you didn’t lose a contract.”

When he quirked his eyebrows, she pointed back at herself.

“Yep. My first day, and only three hours in.”

He stared at her, wondering why she bothered with the small talk. He didn’t want to talk. His eyes zeroed in on her plump, red lips. No, talking was overrated.

She cleared her throat, so his eyes flicked back to hers again.
 

“Well, have a good night.” She turned and walked back out the door.
 

He made sure to take a mental picture of the way her black, tailored pantsuit hugged her curves. “Night,” he said softly, long after she’d disappeared.

As the silence of the office enveloped him, he sat there wondering about the woman who’d just left. Reagan Spencer—she was quite the enigma.
 

At work, she portrayed the consummate business woman, and outside of it, the confident vixen he’d once bedded. He couldn’t help the curiosity that was eating at him to discover which persona was the real woman—or if it was a combination of the two.

Either way, there was something about Ms. Spencer he just couldn’t shake.  

Maybe he could if he got a glimpse of who she was, where she came from...something, anything to turn his brain off from obsessing about her.

***

He’d gotten home quicker than he’d expected, and after removing his suit jacket, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of his white shirt. Feeling slightly less constricted, he moved to the liquor cabinet, where he poured himself a stiff drink.

He went to his bedroom and sat down to his computer, deciding that surely a little digging couldn’t hurt. After taking a sip of the alcohol, Evan then placed it on the desk as he typed Reagan’s name into the search engine. The first thing that appeared was the website for Kelman Corporations.
 

Great. Exactly what I’m not looking for. However…
 

When he spotted an image of her under her bio—perfect, blond hair, that plump set of lips curved into a demure smile, and a string of fine pearls draped around her elegant neck, his cock stirred between his legs and he shifted in his seat. He hadn’t even set out on his search with that kind of reaction in mind, but one look at her succulent mouth and there was no way he couldn’t think of it around his hard dick.

Deciding to try and stay on course, he clicked off the site. Maybe, if he could find some information on her, this fixation of his would get the fuck out of his head.

Scrolling down the page, he spotted an article from the NYU
Leonard N. Stern School of Business with her name highlighted. He clicked on it, opening up a page that displayed photos from students who’d traveled abroad, and there, once again, was Reagan. She was standing in front of the Taj Mahal, draped in a stunning, sapphire sari, and she looked young—probably early twenties if he had to guess.

He went back and browsed through the next few links. She didn’t seem to have any social media profiles, and there was nothing going back any further than her college years. So he typed in another search, trying to find a clue as to where the woman had come from. His search became more frantic as the hours ticked by, his frustration rising.
 

Christ, there was nothing. It was as if she’d come into existence at the age of nineteen.
 

This is fucking useless,
he thought as he pressed the heel of his palm to his throbbing cock. He let the cursor hover over the one button he’d been trying to avoid, but since he’d gotten nowhere while trying to travel the intellectual route, he figured he might as well get some fucking pleasure from his hard work.

Once he’d clicked on ‘images,’ he watched as colored photos of Reagan appeared along with several black-and-whites. His eyes roved over them like a starving man, and as he scrolled down, he spotted it—the one image that finally had him reaching for the button on his pants. He double-clicked the photo, and as it filled his screen, his zipper came down too.

Jesus Christ, the woman was fucking stacked.

He’d known that the first time they’d met, especially after he’d peeled her out of that little black dress, but this photograph was something else. It was sophisticated sex. The kind that made his cock pound harder than anything else.
 

Her hair was swept away from her face, and her head was turned toward the camera. He’d seen plenty of fuck-me eyes in his time, but the way her gaze called to him through the screen struck a nerve.
 

She was the kind of woman you wanted on your arm at a business function so that, when you looked over at her, you had a goal, and that goal was to get through the night so you could take her home and sink your cock inside her as she lay under you, begging for it.
 

His hand palmed his cock and gave it a firm squeeze. Then he let his eyes take in the rest of her as he rubbed himself over the material.
 

Her breasts were swelling up over the confines of the dress and seemed as though they were about to spill out for all to see, which made him wonder if the men that night had stood in front of her in the same state he was now.
 

Fuck.
There was no use pretending that this was not going where it was.
 

He quickly rose up from his chair and pushed his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, toeing off his shoes before kicking them aside. As he stood in front of his computer, the light from the screen shone over him, and when he looked down to fist his cock, he could see the tail ends of his white dress shirt brushing his thighs.  

He spread the pre-come that was glistening at the tip of his cock down his hard length and stroked it roughly. He wasn’t in the mood to drag this out. She’d made him fucking crazy all day, and now, he’d use her the way he’d wanted to since she’d pushed his patience on the street hours earlier. She’d tempted and tormented him on purpose. He knew she had. And there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to put her in her place by branding her with his come all over that pretty face.
 

He drew his fist down his straining flesh and tightly cupped his balls, pushing them up against his body. His head fell back for a second, and he closed his eyes, taking pleasure in the feelings that were coursing through him. The rush of adrenaline flowing through his blood had his eyes opening and focusing back on the woman on the screen—the woman who’d made him do this.

He widened his stance and tugged himself more forcefully this time as he took in the look in her eyes once more.  
Fuck me,
they said.
Use me.

A growl ripped through his body as he jerked himself harder toward the brink of orgasm.
 

“Goddammit,” he bit out, straining for release but feeling it begin to retreat.
 

When he let go of his cock in frustration, he walked to the wide expanse of windows that lined an entire wall of his bedroom and yanked open the curtains. He pressed his hand against the glass and scanned the view of the city as he held his erection in the other. While scanning the buildings nearby, he stroked himself, wanting to feel the eyes of a stranger on him as he fucked his hand.
 

His gaze skidded to a stop on a well-lit bedroom in the building across from him. Standing inside was a woman drawing a dress down her shoulders as she looked behind her. Evan let his eyes move to the entryway of her room and saw a man making his way toward her while pulling his shirt from his pants and unbuttoning it along the way.

Oh fuck yes, this will do.

He stayed focused on the scene unfolding in front of him as he steadily began to pump his shaft. Random strangers fucking for his benefit was something he could definitely get off to.
 

The woman’s dress was now on the floor, kicked aside, and the man’s shirt was gone and his pants undone. Then the man pulled the strap of her bra down and bared one breast to both of them, unbeknownst to her. When he leaned down to suck her nipple into his mouth, Evan let out a groan, wishing he were in the room so he could enjoy the smell of sex he knew would surround them. He kept watching them with his dick in his hand, his balls ready to explode.

Gasping, he was so turned on that his breath was fogging up the glass, but he couldn’t get to the point of release. Dropping his head on the forearm he had pressed against the window, he cursed, trying desperately to relieve the ache building inside him. Sweat dripped down his face as he looked up at the couple again. Now, she was on her stomach, her ass up, and he was driving every inch of himself into her at a frantic pace. Evan tried to match his own thrusts with theirs, gripping his shaft tighter, watching as they fucked each other until they both collapsed in sated exhaustion. But still, he remained unsatisfied.