Regan

Men are idiots. Even the good guys like Jamie have moments where you stop to wonder if you’re missing something. Like the correct time for our breakfast date. Or the address of the restaurant. Well, if you can even call this place a restaurant. I’m not a picky eater, never have been. Jamie has this thing for hole-in-the-wall places with amazing food. So far, I’ve only shared one meal with him. Two if I count stealing nachos from him the night we met.

Standing out front of the diner-like restaurant, I tap my foot impatiently on the sidewalk. Ten minutes ago, I thought I would be late for our date. Turns out being late when it comes to Jamie means you’re either on time or early.

Exhaust fumes from the cars waiting at the red light billow around me, causing me to choke. The driver of an old Chevy revs the engine, as he stares across the passenger seat to size up the car next to him. What is it with the guys in Philly? They act as if they have something to prove and nothing to gain. Until I met Jamie, I had given up on the prospect of finding a man in this city.

They’re either professional athletes, which is a non-starter for me, or a meathead—like the guys at the stoplight. But Jamie is nothing like either of those types. He’s just sporty enough that he speaks my lingo, though I bet I could beat him in a game of one-on-one. While I’m good at sports, he smoked my ass in video games.

There’s something different about men like Jamie. When he cocks his head to the side in thought, something intelligent always follows, where with some of the guys I have dated, that same gesture would follow a question such as whether we should order our pizza with pepperoni or sausage.

Jamie is my first deep thinker, which is sad the more I think about it. Really sad. I’m giving him a break on all the missed phone calls, late responses to text messages, and for bailing on the Flyers playoffs home game—because he’s not like the other guys. He wouldn’t cancel on me without cause. Or would he? I don’t know Jamie well enough to understand why he’s twenty minutes late without as much as a text or email.

Lately, his messages are shorter, more along the lines of something has come up, or can we move our date to another day? We were supposed to meet this week to watch the Flyers game. Coach and Rico were there, cheering on our boys with me. They won at home, a huge victory for the team and the city. And Jamie missed it, all because he had to work.

If anyone understands being overworked and having zero time for a social life, it’s me. I am the Queen of Distractions, always finding new projects to dive into so I can avoid having a real life. But that’s mostly because I have no life. Work takes precedence. At least that was the case before Jamie had waltzed into my life and made me feel something. For once. For him.

Now, I’m standing around on a busy street corner, like an asshole, being stood up by an even bigger asshole.

Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes and open them as I let it out, hoping Jamie will be here by the time that happens. Unfortunately, that shit only happens in the movies. Because when I look around me, I see nothing more than the typical morning rush of cars and people, passing by in a frenzy.

With the Wells Fargo Center only a few minutes away, I finally call it quits and hail a cab. I open the door with an exaggerated sigh, taking one last peek before I slide into the car and shut the door behind me. After I give the driver the details, he hits the gas pedal so hard my back hits the vinyl seat with a thud. Talk about adding insult to injury.

As if I wasn’t already down about Jamie standing me up, I can ice down my back along with my wounded ego, before I make my rounds to all the executives offices. Right as we reach the gate at Broad Street, my cell phone dings with a message.

Jamie: I’m stuck in a meeting. I will make it up to you. I promise. Please don’t hate me.

Taking a few seconds to think about my response, I bite down on my bottom lip and stare at my phone. If I didn’t like Jamie as much as I do, we would be having a much different discussion. No one stands me up. Not even hot nerds that do crazy things between my legs. Just thinking about Jamie and his kisses makes me wet in anticipation.

Me: Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Meet me for lunch.

The driver pulls into the large, open lot and swings around toward the side entrance. I pluck a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and hand it over, thanking him as I exit the car. In that short amount of time, I get another message from Jamie.

Jamie: Can you come to me? We can order takeout and play video games. It’s a working lunch, though. Are you down with that?

Excited by the idea of seeing where Jamie works, I type out a quick response, telling him to send me the address, and shove the phone into my pocket, as I step inside the building.

* * *

Jamie’s office reminds me of the one Tom Hanks had in the movie Big from the 80’s. While it’s large and fully furnished, with a perfect view of the city, it’s also full of toys, gadgets, and more electronics than I can even count.

“Sorry about the mess,” Jamie says, with his hand on my back as he guides me into the room and shuts the door. “I don’t usually have company, and when I do, it’s just one of the guys on my team. Some of them are responsible for all this. I guess I’ll take credit for the other half.”

Taking inventory of the space, I see at least four laptops, five computer monitors, six hard drives, and that’s just some of what’s on his desk. Covered with boxes of computer equipment, the couch by the window is useless to us. Thank God for the one across from it, or we would be eating on the floor.

“It smells good in here.” I tip my nose in the air to get a better whiff of the savory herbs floating through the room. “What did you order for us?”

He shrugs and steers me toward the couch that’s almost free of clutter. “I wasn’t sure what to get you since we’ve only eaten one meal together, so I had my secretary run down to Tony Luke’s for us to get the same thing we ordered the other day.”

Jamie lifts the scattered copies of PC Magazine and Wired from the sofa and throws them onto the large coffee table.

“I’m surprised you have time to read those with how much you work,” I say, taking a seat on the dark leather cushion.

He plops down next to me and leans forward to hand me my sandwich wrapped in paper, before settling in to peel back the wrapper on his cheesesteak. “I flip through them on occasion when I’m feeling uninspired and need some motivation. Sometimes, seeing new technology or reading the latest success story helps me get my shit together. This job isn’t like most. If I run out of creativity or get stuck on a line of code, I’m the person everyone will look to in order to fix it.”

“I know what that’s like to some extent,” I say, chewing a bite of the sausage and peppers sandwich.

A bit of sauce slides out from the corner of my mouth and down my face. Our food is greasy and not the easiest to eat on my lap. Focused on his food, Jamie takes two bites at a time, making sounds as he swallows it down. He acts as though it’s the first meal he’s had in days.

If he’s worked as much as he says, then it might be possible. Jamie and I are kindred spirits, cut from the same cloth. I have gone whole days where I had forgotten to eat because I was so busy running around the building, worrying my ass off about an event going well.

Glancing in his direction, I can’t stop staring at the dimple in his cheek. Every time I’m around him, I can’t help myself. I have to stick my finger inside the tiny crevice, which causes Jamie to turn his head. He smiles, or at least attempts to, because he has a mouth full of food.

Finished in record timing, he crumples up the paper and drops it onto the wooden table in front of us. He removes my finger from his face and takes my hand in his.

“I missed you this week,” he says, softly. “I’m really sorry about having to cancel on you so much. I swear I’m not normally this unreliable. Once we get this game off to the client, I will have a lot more free time.”

“What happened to beta testing? I could be part of the team still if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course. Yeah, that would be great, actually. I wasn’t sure if you were only using that as an excuse to come over to my apartment or not, but I honestly didn’t care why you’d wanted to test the game.”

“I offered because I like you but also because it sounded like fun. For most of my childhood, I had to find ways to entertain myself. Video games, sports, and comic books were always something to keep me busy.”

“You like comic books, too?” Jamie’s face lights up with excitement. “I think you just got about ten times hotter in my book.”

“Only ten?” I open my mouth wide in mock surprise, my gesture quickly turning into a smile. “That should earn me at least twenty.”

“Comic books,” he mutters under his breath. “You might be even cooler than Charlie, but don’t tell her that. She likes to think she’s the coolest girl I’ve ever known. How did you get into comics?”

Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I set my sandwich on the table and clean myself up before I speak. “I guess it kinda happened on its own. I was always around the sons of other hockey players, waiting on our dads to finish games or practices, and it’s not like they were carrying around Barbie’s in their pockets. One of the guys on my father’s team had a son who was obsessed with Marvel Comics. I didn’t have much to do, and at that point, I was old enough to read, so we’d sit in the locker room together and read, or go up in the stands and watch them skate as we traded books back and forth. It was weird but fun.”

“You’re officially the coolest girl I know,” he announces with a smile. “Charlie is now number two.”

Without even realizing he’s doing it, Jamie clamps his hand down on my bare knee, drawing my attention away from his face. He catches on to my sudden change, brought on by thoughts of him touching me once more.

“I didn’t mean to—” Jamie says, but I interrupt his train of thought by pressing my index finger to his lips.

Locking onto him, I say, “It’s okay. I want you to.”

Peeling my finger from his lips, I cup my hand over his, tracing circles on his smooth skin. We sit there for a few minutes without speaking, just enjoying each other’s company. Why hasn’t he made a move? It could have something to do with being in his office with a ton of people on the other side of the door. It’s about time Jamie has a little fun. And I can be bad when I want to be.

Sliding his hand up my inner thigh, I suck in a deep breath. That’s all it takes for Jamie to realize he has the go-ahead from me. Sometimes, I wish he wasn’t such a gentleman and would just take what he wants. But his kinder, more thoughtful side is one of the things I like most about Jamie. Right now, I am about to see another side, as his fingers creep up the inseam of my thigh could make my ovaries explode.

A wicked smile reaches up to his eyes before he grabs my hair, pulling me to him, while the other hand continues to make its way up to my aching pussy. I’m wet, so fucking wet.

“Jamie,” I moan right before he presses his lips to mine.

He silences me with his tongue, slipping it inside my mouth. Our kisses are animalistic and rough, yet soft and tender. My head spins from the passion behind each kiss, unable to get enough of Jamie.

Once he has my skirt pushed up my thighs, exposing pink boy shorts, he pushes my legs together to slide my underwear down to my ankles and throws them on the floor behind him. The look in his eyes is primal, devouring every inch of my body. With my pussy on display, I feel so vulnerable, so exposed. But I don’t care.

I wasn’t expecting Jamie to see me in my lounging around the house underwear, let alone like this, but I’m not about to stop him from plunging his fingers inside me. I want this. I want him. I missed his kiss, his touch, while he was gone, busy with work and wedding plans.

“Fuck, Regan,” he mutters under his breath and licks his lips. “You’re so fucking wet. If we were anywhere but here...”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence for me to know what he was about to say. “I know,” I choke out, biting down on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle my moans.

At first, Jamie starts slow, easing his fingers in and out of my slickness, but his pace quickens with each groan of pleasure that escapes my lips. And there are a lot of them. Spinning into a frenzy of sexual bliss, I’m consumed by the high that Jamie’s touch provides. My insides tighten around his fingers, so close to finding my release, and I think he knows it.

“Come for me,” he says against my lips before slipping his tongue inside my mouth once more. “I want you to come all over my fingers, so I can taste you.”

As if I wasn’t already turned on, his words set me over the edge.

“Jamie,” I moan with each kiss, gripping a fist full of his hair in my hands as my entire body trembles, the heat spreading from my cheeks to my toes.

After my body stops convulsing and my moans die off, he slides his fingers out of me and looks up at me, as he sucks my juices from them, looking sexy-as-fuck.

“Mmm…you taste good, baby,” he says, removing his fingers from his mouth. “I want more.”

“Then take it,” I counter, challenging him to continue. “I’m yours.”

Without another word, Jamie bends down to kiss my thigh, pushing my legs open wider, as he grips my legs with his hands. He lifts my leg over his shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses on my skin, teasing me before he pulls me closer to him. Adjusting to my new position on the couch, I use my elbows for support because I want to watch him. That primal look has returned to his eyes once more, making my pussy clench. He rolls his tongue over his over lips, maintaining eye contact with me as he dips down to suck on my clit.

I can’t breathe. My entire world shifts on its axis the moment Jamie laps up my juices with his tongue. His lips and mouth, combined with the tiny bit of stubble that rubs against my pussy, feels so good I want to remember this moment forever. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want this to end. His tongue is like heaven.

Gripping his hair in my hands, I try not to pull too tight, as he continues to look up at me. With his eyes focused on me, I’m so turned on as I watch him work his magic on my pussy. I’m ready to have another mind-shattering orgasm, the feeling so intense my entire body sets on fire, a burst of heat traveling down my arms and legs, causing my toes to curl.

But the most annoying sound I have ever heard interrupts us, snapping both of us back to reality in an instant. I’m panting so heavy that I have trouble breathing when I listen to a beeping sound, followed by a woman’s voice.

“Mr. O’Connor,” the woman clears her throat, “um…are you busy?”

Shaking his head in frustration, he lets out a sigh and speaks loud enough that his voice reaches the phone across the room on his desk. “Judith, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. Can this wait?”

“I’m afraid not. Mr. Conway wants to see you in his office. He said it was urgent and to send you up right away.”

“Okay,” Jamie groans. “Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Will do,” she says, in a pleasant tone before the line goes dead.

Jamie turns to face me with his mouth full of my juices, only making me want him more. “I have to get going,” he says, disappointed. “You have no idea how much I want to tell my boss to fuck off and finish what we started, but he’s the CEO, and I won’t have a job if I do that.”

Using my thumb, I wipe his face clean, and he takes my hand, licking off what’s left with a wicked smile. “You taste so fucking good. I could eat your pussy all day.”

“Apparently, that’s another one of your hidden talents. I will have to take you up on that offer another time.”

“Thank you for understanding,” he says, his fingers intertwined with mine. “I know this is hard. With how much we work, our time is already spread thin. Once I hand over this game, the Flyers should be out of the playoffs, and we will have a lot more time together.”

“Way to show your team spirit,” I deadpan.

He flashes a devious grin. “Even though we both want them to win, I’m only trying to be realistic.”

“I can understand that.” I pull my skirt over my hips and shake off his comment. “All I care about is spending more time with you and that mouth of yours. Where did you learn some of those moves? And don’t say from a magazine.”

I am joking, and he knows it.

“You’re such a brat,” he says, laughing. “And, to answer your question, I did not learn that from a magazine. I’m not that kind of nerd. I never had problems with women.”

Tilting my head to the side, my eyes travel up his muscular body with a smirk already on my lips. “I can see that. But next time, I’d like to see you in less clothing.”

He stands up and holds out his hand for me to take, my attention shifting to the length in his pants.

“I think you need to get rid of that before you go see your boss,” I say, trying not to laugh.

Jamie glances down at his erection as if he wished it would disappear.

I peek up at him. “I can help you out…if you want.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, quickly turning his head to the door.

“No one is going to come in here, right?” I ask, my voice a whisper. He tilts his head up to the ceiling and lets out a puff of air. And he doesn’t answer me when I reach for the button on his black slacks, pop it open, and pull down the zipper. “It’s your turn.”

Once his eyes meet mine, they tell me everything I need to know. Keep going. Don’t stop.