Page 52 of Stroked by (Stroked)
With that, I left, leaving behind a satisfied, yet abandoned Reese King.
***
“What an arrogant prick,” I mumble to myself, opening the door to my apartment. Maybe I misjudged him.
I spent the entire drive from Reese’s beachfront property to my crappy inner-city apartment stewing over the irritating, irrational, yet gorgeously attractive man. How dare he think so poorly of me that I would allow him to kiss me when I have another man at home. I know my general appearance doesn’t read virginal saint, but never in my life have I been a cheater, and I don’t plan on starting now.
“You’re home,” Jonathan calls out from the kitchen. “I made chicken and broccoli casserole.”
Mentally exhausted, I drop my items at the front door to be picked up later and head to the kitchen. Jonathan isn’t wearing a shirt, only a pair of khaki shorts—his boxer briefs poking out from underneath—and oven mitts cover his hands.
“Where is your shirt?” I ask, flopping the upper half of my body on the counter, too tired to hold myself up.
“In the hamper. I pumped it up at the gym today, wanted to flex my muscles for you.” And he does just that, impersonating an early eighties Arnold Schwarzenegger.
“Wow, very impressive,” I deadpan.
He stops mid-flex and straightens up. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Drawing closer he examines my face and says, “Why are your chin and cheeks all red?”
Instinctively my hand caresses my skin and I think about the beard that was just rubbing against it.
Shit.
“Uh, sunburn probably,” I lie. “It was really hot out today, and I guess I didn’t apply sunscreen properly. That’s what happens when you’re running around a production shoot, trying to accommodate your prima donna boss.”
He eyes me skeptically, and I try not to wilt under his stare. Letting up, he rounds the corner and pulls me into a hug, his warm chest pressing against my beard-burned cheek. As Jonathan hugs me tightly,hismuscles wrapping around me, I’m reminded of the man I’d been kissing passionately only minutes ago.
Oh my God. I made out with Reese King.
Better yet, I gave him a blow job.
In his entryway . . .
On his welcome mat.
I’m that girl.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I feel compelled to give in to his temptation, let alone place his dick in my mouth?
I told myself if I gave in, this could end terribly. Jonathan warned me to stay away, and what did I do? Did I listen? Ohhhhh no. That would be too easy to listen to reasonable logic.
Nope, I like to torture myself, make things complicated.
So, I dropped to my knees and sucked the man off.
And holy hell, I loved every last minute of it. And you know what? If Jonathan hadn’t called, I would have probably sat on Reese’s face and asked him to return the favor. What kind of person did that make me?
A horny and desperate one.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with Bellini, but I’ve heard great things about your swim idea. Jasper was raving about it to Wally on a conference call. You’re making an impact, sweetness. You just have to hang in there. This will open doors for you, I promise.”
Guilt weighs heavily on me. Jonathan stuck his neck out for me and here I am, fooling around on the job, something he told me not to do.
But for the life of me, I can’t stop. I can’t keep my eyes off Reese. I can’t help but be drawn to his swagger, his athletic stature, his captivating hazel eyes, or the way he gazes at me, as if I’m the only woman on this planet, one who’s been made for him.
And then there is his voice, rasping into my ear, begging me to touch him, asking me to finally give in.
I’m confused, frustrated, and horny for the one man I should stay away from.
