Chapter One
Sadie
Moaning. It’s the first thing that blasts my ears as I approach his office. My knuckles whiten as I grip the basket I’m carrying. It’s late, and this visit is supposed to be a surprise.
Maybe I’m the one in for a surprise.
I stall outside his door, and there’s no doubt at what I’m hearing. Releasing a soundless breath, I feel my shoulders sag, same as my spirit. God, I feel like a fucking cliché right now—the clueless girlfriend catching her cheating boyfriend at the office late at night. It doesn’t help that I have that wholesome girl-next-door appearance bullshit to go along with the overdone trope.
I’m a mere five feet and three inches tall, and my thick red hair doesn’t know the first thing about behaving. Don’t even get me started on the freckles smattering my nose and cheeks. I’m told my freckles are adorable, sexy even, but I’m sure the people who said it over the years are full of shit. Especially now, considering the escalated moans coming through the door of Jake’s office. I bet whoever she is, she doesn’t have freckles.
Adorable doesn’t get a girl anywhere with someone like Jake Jennings. He is the epitome of mature and successful. Classic good looks, with blond hair that’s never out of place. Strong, square jaw and broad shoulders. The man favors expensive suits, and he wears them well.
Being several years younger than Jake, dating him made me feel grown up. My parents approved—how could they not, considering Jake is on the fast track to becoming a junior partner at my father’s law firm.
Sounds like he’s on the fast track to getting laid as well.
Betrayal rises in my chest, and I clutch the bodice of my little black dress. It’s the slime ball’s birthday, and he begged off from celebrating tonight, claiming he had to pull an all-nighter on the case my dad’s had him working on. So I decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner I prepared for the occasion, hoping I could coax him into taking a break.
I’d hoped to take our relationship to the next level by giving him what he’s wanted for weeks.
A blow job. Maybe even my fucking V card.
God, I’m so stupid.
My best friend warned me about him from the get-go.
He’s got the douchebag vibe going on.
How can you tell?
It’s in the eyes, Sadie. He’s a smug bastard who thinks he’s better than everyone else.
Guess she was right, but stupid little me didn’t want to hear it. A single glance in his direction shattered my brain cells and drenched my panties, and I followed his come-hither smile like a cat on the scent of dinner scraps.
“Yes! Oh God, fuck yes, Jake. Your tongue…right fucking there.”
A warm tingle travels down my spine, which is interesting because I’m angry as hell.
Turn away. You don’t want to see this.
My hand stalls halfway to the knob. He left the door ajar—no point in worrying about privacy when everyone in the office has already gone home for the day. One soundless push of that door, and I’ll see for myself that Jake Jennings is scum.
Another moan fractures the air.
No, he’s the grime that lines the tiles in my shower, the mud caking the soles of my sneakers from our hike last weekend. The memory of our time together sucker punches me. I draw in even breaths through my nose, trying to remain silent as tears burn my eyes. The weather’s been mild for fall, and we took advantage by getting outside for a few hours. Things got heavy up on that deserted hillside. His hands explored every inch of me, yet the day ended with a preamble of what was to come.
I should have known.
He’d wanted more, but when it came time to reciprocate, I ended up freezing with uncertainty. And that’s how it always goes with me. I’ve had more than a couple of boyfriends take off over the past few years because I wasn’t willing to put out.
But Jake said he was different. He said he’d wait until I was ready. He even claimed he wasn’t angry last weekend, but the deafening disquiet between us on the long trek back to his car was the first sign that something was wrong. Our weeks of dates, flirty texts, and smoldering looks at the office was about to get complicated. I’d known it, felt it, because this wasn’t the first time I’d put the brakes on when he was ready to go full throttle.
For days I chewed over my insecurities before coming to the conclusion that I needed to step up my game. He’s a man with needs, and knowing it’s beyond time to move past my fear of taking the next step, I wanted to give him the most special birthday gift I could.
Guess he decided to get it from someone else.
“Get on your knees,” he groans.
I slap a hand over my trembling lips to keep from making a sound. Careful not to give away my presence, I set the picnic basket of baked chicken and rice pilaf on the floor then wedge the door open a crack. My heart pounds in my throat as I peer into his office, despite the roaring voice in my head shouting to just walk the fuck away.
Now, Sadie. Walk. The. Fuck. Away.
But I can’t. My gaze fastens on the lithe blonde sinking to her knees in front of him. She’s his bimbo legal assistant—someone I’ve never liked—which makes this even worse in the cliché department. Wearing nothing but a pair of heels and a wide grin, she curls her fingers around his jutting erection. His slacks puddle around his ankles, and his cock…Jesus, it’s huge and ready and already dripping onto her double D’s.
I wipe the moisture from my eyes with quick, angry movements. I’m angry at him, and angry at myself for being incapable of looking away as she parts her lips and sucks his entire length into her mouth. He’s fisting her tousled hair as his hips move so fast that I can’t help but wonder if he’s choking her.
I kind of hope he is.
She purrs around his shaft, making him throw his head back, and a guttural moan escapes his gaping mouth. “You take my cock like a whore every fucking time.” He yanks her head back, seating the tip between her damp lips. “You want to swallow every drop, don’t you?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans, sliding her lips down his shaft again.
As I watch them, I question the very basis of my being, wading through the various conflicting emotions roiling through me. Anger, betrayal, and admittedly, fascination because I want to be the one on my knees.
What would it be like to have a man at my mercy like that, to have the confidence to give head like a whore and enjoy every moment of it, even as he shoots his release down my throat? Would our eyes lock on each other the whole time? Would the lustful glint is his eyes give me a sense of empowerment?
I should feel more upset at finding my boyfriend with his dick in someone else’s mouth. Not to say that I’m not a little broken by his betrayal.
But what I really am is curious.
Confused.
Ashamed.
Hurt.
Yeah, definitely hurt. If he’d given me a little more time, not to mention some damn respect, it could have been me on my knees. I would have given him what he wanted. Could have given him what I wanted.
Eventually, after the red haze of shock and hurt wanes, I know I’ll be glad I didn’t get on my knees for him, because he doesn’t deserve it. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve my V card. This asshole doesn’t deserve shit from me, least of all another second of my time.
Leaving the picnic basket on the floor, I whirl with silent footsteps and creep out the way I came. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t hold on to the anger long enough to drown out the hurt. Hot drops of humiliation drip down my cheeks as I jab the button for the elevator.
Determined to get my shit together before I arrive on the first floor, I dry my eyes. Holding the tears back isn’t easy, but I’m young, pretty according to some, and dressed up on a Friday night. No way am I going to waste it by crying over a loser like Jake.