Page 18 of Elijah’s Whim

Chapter Five

Elijah

My executive assistant, Carmen, buzzed the intercom feature on my desk phone.

“Yes?” I asked the young man.

“Security called with the information you asked for. It is Ms. Farsey who is making the lunch deliveries today. I made sure you were on the recipient list like you asked. I checked twice, so there should be no mistake.”

“You’re a good man, Carmen. I don’t care what everyone else says.” We both chuckled because he recognized my comment for the joke it was. The guy had been with me long enough to know my dry sense of humor, and he often gave it right back.

Now I just had to bide my time until she got to my office. Normally they started up here on the top floor and worked their way down to the first floor, but I wasn’t sure how vindictive my beauty was going to be.

I wasn’t a regular partaker of the service like Bas and Grant because many more of my day’s appointments were out in the field, but when I looked at the schedule on Abstract’s server late last night and saw Hannah would be making the deliveries, I added myself to the list.

It was just a stroke of luck that she chose to behave the way she did when I escorted her to work this morning. Now, if my luck continued, she’d walk out of here with a nice red ass, and my palm would tingle for the rest of the afternoon from spanking it.

I’d come up with so many filthy and creative ways to teach my new playmate a lesson. Settling on one had been a distracting challenge. Fortunately, Bas had canceled the meeting first thing this morning with Grant and me, so I’d spent a lot of time daydreaming about Hannah. I’d also relived every single moment of our evening together, which resulted in two mind-altering sessions with my fist in my office’s attached bathroom.

Normally, jacking off was something I did for biology reasons only. My cock was hard and causing problems—I dealt with it. But ever since Ms. Farsey took up residence under my roof, even that changed.

Now, it was like I was a teenager again. Self-inflicted sexual challenges like seeing how long I could make myself wait before giving in to the need. Seeing how many times I could take myself to the edge before completely exploding while gasping my beauty’s name from my lips. Seeing which memory took me to that edge fastest. Seeing—if I concentrated hard enough—if I could still smell the magical, mysterious redolence of her perfume or, better yet, her natural arousal…feel her butter-soft skin…taste the whisper of salt on it.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

It seemed like eight years ago that Twombley and I would watch Bas climb the walls until Abbigail came by with his lunch. When she’d finally arrive, he would toy with the poor girl like a cat does with a mouse before she would finally scamper away, usually in tears. Then Shark, being the bastard he was and apparently one I could totally relate to, would sit triumphantly and eat that damn meal like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. The dude would all but lick the plate clean because her hands had touched it. When he was done, he would even take a ridiculous amount of care with the linen napkin, folding it as neatly as it was before he started.

Shit. I was going to owe him an apology for all the times I busted his balls.

Or not.

As long as I kept the storm I felt rioting in my system on the inside and didn’t let anything show on the outside, I should be safe.

Because really, how could this be happening? How could I be into this little hottie already? Yes, she was gorgeous. She was smart and ambitious. I’d always found those traits to be incredibly attractive in a woman. But I swore off falling for a woman ever again. Women? Hell yes. But one singular woman? No way. Not ever again.

Ever. Again.

I could have it tattooed across my forehead for how intensely I had made the vow. Yet here I was, pacing around my office like a caged lion.

Pacing. Fucking pacing, waiting for a woman to show up at my door.

When the knock sounded, I actually jumped. I snickered at my own absurdity and quickly chalked it up to being caught up in my own thoughts. My assistant’s deep voice came from the other side of the heavy wood panel.

“Mr. Banks, your lunch has arrived.”

In two long strides, I was across to the door and yanking on the handle. Judging by the look on both Carmen’s and Ms. Farsey’s faces, I must have looked deranged when the door swung inward and I loomed in the open frame.

“Hello,” she said, and that sultry voice reached right down the front of my linen slacks and jacked my cock with tight, smoky fingers.

“Ms. Farsey. How nice to see you. Thank you, Carmen. That’s everything for now. Why don’t you take your lunch break, too? We’ll be fine here.”

“I won’t take but a minute,” Hannah said. “In and out, you know how this goes.” She pushed the catering cart into my office fully, and I quietly closed the door on her heels. The rush of air behind her made the loose tendrils framing her heavenly face fan forward like a spray of fine silk.

“How has your day been so far? Productive, I’m guessing?” I was a wall of coiled need, trapping her between the closed door and my body.

“It— It’s been fine. Yours? And where would you like your lunch? You aren’t one of our regulars on this floor, so I’m not familiar with your preferences.” She babbled nervously and tried to sidestep past me.

“Set the tray down, Hannah.”