The Marriage Rival: An Office Romance

by Kat T. Masen

  Damn, I am good.

  After me, my Uncle Pete takes the microphone which ends up in a drunken rant about his ex-wives and how marriage isn’t for everyone. There’s a mention about his time in jail, long-lost friends who never paid him money they owed. It’s classic Uncle Pete.

  I have to clap to that. It isn’t a wedding without a family member making a fool out of themselves.

  The MC requests the bride and groom take to the dance floor for their first official dance. Apparently, we have to dance with our allocated partner for the day. Blondie, as I call her because I can’t remember her name, grabs my hand much to my dismay and leads me onto the dance floor.

  They play Endless Love, fucking corny as hell, and blondie is rambling on about how she’s single and literally ready to mingle.

  So basically, she is down to fuck.

  Too bad I don’t fucking give a shit, counting down the minutes until the song ends. The MC announces other couples to join us.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to go dance with my wife.”

  “Oh,” she mouths. “You’re married?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, but you knew that. Your type loves to get off on fucking married guys.”

  Her face drops, a mixture of anger and humiliation. She stomps off in a huff as I walk toward where Presley sits.

  “Hi, Mom.” I lean in to kiss my mom on the cheek, then shake David’s hand.

  “Haden, honey, how much have you had to drink?”

  “Not enough to make this go quicker,” I mumble. “Mom, will you excuse me as I’d like to dance with my wife?”

  I extend my hand as Presley lovingly smiles while placing her hand in mine. The platinum band sits on her finger, a symbol of this bond we share. Fuck, I can feel myself getting sentimental. Stupid weddings.

  On the dance floor, I lace my arms around her waist as she wraps hers around my neck. She smells fantastic, this floral fragrance only reminds me of her.

  “So, the blonde is nice,” she casually mentions, eyeing her from the dance floor.

  “You want me to hook you up with her? She’s single and ready to mingle, apparently.”

  Presley shakes her head, knowingly. “Why am I not surprised you know that?”

  “I can’t control other people’s actions around me, trust me.”

  “You’re like some sex-god magnet. Everywhere I turn, women are throwing themselves at you,” she vents in annoyance. “It’s gotten even worse since we were married. The wedding ring is almost like a challenge they want to conquer.”

  “Well,” I say, staring deep into her eyes. “Lucky, I only have eyes for you. And besides, I am not the only one fighting off the beasts.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I prefer not to repeat what was said about you. My jealously can only stem so far.”

  Presley purses her lips. “Right, so that explains your killer look earlier. Harry isn’t subtle with his flirtatious winks.”

  “Don’t tell me he—”

  “Hey.” She places her hands on my cheeks, instantly relaxing me. “This conversation isn’t worth the time and effort. I want you. I’ve always wanted only you.”

  Running her hands along the collar of my shirt, she presses it firmly on my chest. “And since we’re child-free tonight, I’m ready for you to fuck me every which way you please… and you can do it without the raincoat.”

  I fucking love my wife.

  Her words are like dynamite, my pants stiffening against her body. Fuck, we need to get out of here now. Screw this wedding.

  “We need to leave like now,” I demand.

  “We can’t just leave,” she reminds me. “They have to do the farewell arch, that’s still another hour away.”

  “But I need to fuck you like yesterday.”

  She rests her head against mine, before whispering in my ear, “There’s always the cloakroom… again.”

  I don’t give her time to change her mind, pulling her off the dance floor in a quick flash. Outside in the foyer, a young guy is manning the front. I drop Presley’s hand as she nervously waits and pull out my wallet.

  “Here, man. Take this five hundred and make sure no one goes in for at least twenty minutes, you got me?”

  The guy winks, taking my bills giving me the green-light nod.

  With the key in my hand, we make our way to the cloakroom. I open the door and switch on the light, pushing her inside. Closing the door behind us, I don’t give her time to change her mind. I slam my mouth onto hers as I push her against the wall. She clutches onto my shirt and manages to pull away for just a split second.

  “God, I’ve fantasized about fucking you all night long.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I whisper into her neck. “Jealousy looks great on you.”

  I want my mouth back on hers. Our tongues are in a battle, feverishly fighting until she lets out a deep moan, the one that makes me rock-hard, wanting to explode. I don’t have much time, so I quickly flip her around, pushing her against the wall again, this time with her back to me until all I can see is that sweet ass of hers. I lift the corner of her emerald dress, exposing one cheek. She’s wearing those French lace panties that made me blow in my pants last time. Fuck. With her skin in full view, I slap her ass hard enough for her to let out a squeal.

  “You miss this?” I breathe, sliding my hand against her slit. “You miss me fucking you?”

  She arches her neck, and nods, giving me rein to taste her beautiful skin.

  “I’m going to fuck you now. It’s going to be hard, and you’re going to scream.”

  Her body is waiting, the goosebumps forming along her precious skin. I don’t want to waste any more time, and I unzip my pants until my cock is free. I slide my fingers into her panties again and feel how soaking wet she is. Fuck me. My girl is ready for me. No more waiting. Just fuck her hard and make her come.

  I grab my cock and just the slight touch causes me to moan. Pushing her panties aside, I slide myself in nice and hard, watching her arch her back as her knees begin to shake. I fucking love when her knees shake.

  The tightness of her pussy feels like heaven. This is fucking torture… c’mon, your cock should be able to hold out for a couple more minutes.

  Placing my hands on her shoulders, I push her against the wall, gripping tight as I continue to thrust into her. Sweat is dripping off my forehead, and unable to control my thirst, I slam harder while I lower my hand against her clit. Such a beautiful clit. It’s perfect, just the way I like it—pink and swollen. I want it in my mouth. Her body tightens in my grip, and I know she’s so close. Seconds later, she begs me to fuck her harder as the orgasm rips through her, her breathing ragged and forcing her to groan loudly.

  My time is running out.

  I’m fucking seeing stars, exploding inside her as the sensations ravage every part of me. I let out a deep, rumbling groan, tightening my grip on her shoulders. I didn’t want to hurt her, but the marks I’ve left, they are red.

  Our heavy pants echo through the confined room, and with a gentle kiss on her shoulder, I ease my way out

  “Perfect, as always,” I murmur while helping her with her dress.

  With a wicked smile, she fixes my shirt and straightens my tie. “If that’s the reaction I get out of you for threatening you with condoms, then a job well done for me.”

  I stare into her eyes with a stern face. “No, that’s what happens when other men are trying to take what’s mine.”

  She places her lips on mine, gently and lovingly.

  “How about we be spontaneous and not head home. There’s a hotel around the corner, and I’m sure there’s a lot we can do.”

  I take her lips, tasting her on my own, instantly feeling my dick harden, again.

  “Oh baby, you better believe there’s plenty we can do.”

  Six

  Presley

  When I was twenty-three, I decided to take a leap and move to Manhattan.

  To date, it was the scariest move I had made
in my life. Growing up in Virginia meant I was surrounded by beautiful green nature. There was room to run around and take impromptu bike rides down to the lake. I loved to read, spending countless hours underneath the gorgeous Eastern Redbud tree dad grew in our backyard, falling in love with characters and stories who transported me to another life.

  It all seemed so simple back in the day, until, of course, I became a teenager and realized there was more to the small town I had grown up in.

  Being hours away from my parents brought a sense of relief. They loved me, I never questioned that, but their opinions of what I should be doing with my life became a broken record.

  I attended the University of Richmond, only a few hours away from home. Occasionally, I found myself homesick, but for most of the part, I enjoyed the freedom and welcomed adulthood.

  Manhattan was always a pipe dream. I’d fantasized about visiting as a child, read countless stories about the concrete jungle and the endless opportunities. I saved every penny working various jobs at night and on weekends, so the second I graduated, my bags were packed ready to move to the Big Apple.

  The moment my feet hit the pavement, I felt like I was transported to a different world. It was incredibly dirty, and I wasn’t used to seeing so many homeless people on every street corner. The constant sounds of sirens, tooting horns, and the subway beneath the steaming grates was a rude awakening.

  But as many people have said, it’s the one place which never leaves you.

  I attended Broadway musicals and spent hours wandering the museums. The nightlife was something else—bar hopping with girlfriends, dancing the nights away only to wake up with the biggest hangover the next day. I dated many men but none who warranted long-term relationships. It was the best way to spend my twenties—carefree without a worry in the world.

  I was fortunate enough to land a few jobs to tie me over, but my luck came when David Sadler offered me a job at Lantern Publishing. It was the break in my career I needed. I worked hard, endless hours to prove my worth. During that time, I met my then fiancé, Jason Hart. Life, at the time, seemed almost perfect. A little too perfect which is never a good thing.

  Fast forward years later, I married Haden—the co-worker from hell. A man I never envisioned settling down with. For starters, the guy is incredibly sexy. Way above the men I had normally dated. Women were constantly throwing themselves at him. I blame the black-rimmed reading glasses and chiseled jaw. He is like that perfect book boyfriend authors often explained to me their readers fantasized over.

  And his body, Haden is ridiculously cut up. Almost every day I admire his toned physique, run my hands along his abs and stare longingly at the ‘V’ shape just about his waistline.

  The one-night stand between us turned into the biggest blessing of our lives. Although I loathed Haden and never showed interest in him prior to our drunken night at the club, he often told me his eyes had been on me long before that moment. It’s rather sweet and unlike him to profess his feelings but one of the many reasons why I love him.

  Trying to co-work while in a relationship comes with many challenges. Prior to David stepping down as the publisher, he offered me the role of Editor-in-Chief.

  With my experience and dedication to the company, he strongly believed I was the right person for the job. Timing was perfect since the person previously filling the role had moved back to London.

  But like with any win in life, it came with a spray of negativity. People who I considered friends in the same industry believed I only landed the job due to my relationship with Haden. It was challenging to step into a role I worked hard for only to hear the office gossip circulating about my willingness to sleep with whomever to further my career.

  I didn’t take those rumors lightly. Offended people thought my work ethic and skill set weren’t strong enough to land me that role. Often, I would vent to Haden, but he simply reminded me that no matter what would have happened between us, I was always the person marked for that role. David’s mentoring over the years was for that very reason.

  I’d grown over the past few years. I learned not to get caught up in the irrelevant details and focus on my set goals. I’ve always been determined, and even motherhood won’t stop me from achieving my career objectives. I just need to figure out how to balance my time, so nobody suffers.

  Easier said than done.

  Weeks have passed since Haden received the call from Marshall, and he didn’t back off like Haden anticipated. Marshall is a known risk-taker. I, on the other hand, thrive on new projects. As soon as we were given budgets, I threw myself straight into a project timeline which prompted the meeting today.

  All eyes are on me in the boardroom as I stand beside the projector screen and finish explaining our targets. Clint is distracted by my outfit, slowly eyeing me from head to toe with a judgmental expression. I find myself looking down, making sure I haven’t spilled anything on my olive-colored tunic style dress I bought online.

  “Any questions?”

  Clint raises his hand. Knowing him very well, this could easily go two ways.

  “Are we considering increasing headcount?” He looks at his peers, many appearing overwhelmed and flustered by our tight deadline. “I’m only speaking for myself, my head’s barely above water. I’m drowning, swallowing the endless work coming in. My chest is tight, heavy weight on my shoulders—”

  I cut him off as the team snickers.

  “I get it, cue the dramatic play-by-play. Look, we’ve acquired Indie Press, and Haden is working closely with their team. We’d like to avoid losing talented staff and will do our best to retain employees.”

  Our meeting carries on for another hour until our receptionist knocks on the door advising me my next meeting has arrived.

  “Okay, any questions, you know where to find me.”

  Everyone leaves the room except Clint. His lingering presence is annoying, yet I prepare myself for the sea of questions.

  “So, what are we dealing with? Are you talking sexy Clark Kent employees or boring, ‘I wouldn’t screw you with a bag over your head’ employees?”

  Clint’s priorities are frivolous at the best of times. “I’ve been single forever. Quit judging me.”

  “I’ll quit judging you when you stop looking at my dress.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure olive is your color…”

  I fold my arms beneath my chest, pursing my lips trying to cue the frustration.

  “Listen, Haden is managing that team for now. I’m not heavily involved because I have more important matters to handle. I trust him, and considering he is also your boss, you should trust he is making the right decisions for this company…” I pause, patting the skirt of my dress. “And I quite like this dress. Maybe your salmon-colored shirt isn’t exactly the best choice for you, either.”

  “It’s Winterberry, thank you very much.” Clint’s expression shifts to shock, covering his mouth as if he’s unraveled some secret. “Trouble in paradise? You know, I haven’t seen him much. The last time I saw him, you guys were arguing over the Fleishman project, and you threw the word divorce around.”

  I laugh his nonsense off, packing my papers in front of me.

  “You haven’t seen him much because he’s been traveling back and forth to San Fran. It’s easier for him to do that so I can take care of Masen at night.” With my papers and laptop in hand, I push in the chair. “And no trouble in paradise. In fact, Haden and I are in a good place. I had my periods at the time, you know, PMS dragon unleashing.”

  “So, he’s getting blown and you’re getting sleep again.”

  I shrug my shoulders, followed with a lopsided grin. “Never underestimate the power of a good blow job.”

  Clint places his hand flatly on his throat, faking a gasp in his ever-so-dramatic fashion.

  “Mrs. Cooper. What has that man done to you?”

  I wink, making my way toward the door. “More than you can ever imagine.”

  Leaving the boardroom with Clint
walking the opposite way singing Shania Twain’s “I Feel Like a Woman,” I head toward my office where Mr. Yukon and Mr. Griffith are sitting quietly. They are here to discuss market trends on our online platforms.

  Noah strolls into the room, shaking their hands before taking a seat. I haven’t seen him for a few weeks given he is transitioning out of this role.

  About a year or so ago, I had dinner with his then wife, Morgan. Things between them were tense. At that time, they postponed their divorce while Noah sorted out the mess with this other woman.

  And somewhere along the line, Noah had rekindled his friendship with Kate which led to a romantic ending. Kate moved to Paris a few years ago, and though we kept in contact, both of us were so busy that we barely spoke much. I’m glad they found each other, and she moved here to LA.

  Noah is finally settled and happy, shedding his playboy ways.

  At least, that’s what I’m led to believe.

  You never know with men.

  Of late, Noah has asked Haden to join him for drinks. At first, it didn’t bother me, especially when they went out with my best friend Charlie’s husband, Lex. He is the most mature of them all and will rein them in if they ever decided to misbehave. But the last few times, it has been only Noah and Haden.

  I don’t want to be that wife. Yet sometimes, I wish he would spend the time at home rather than hang with his friend drinking bourbon and God knows what at the bars they frequent.

  Greeting everyone hello, I offer the three of them a beverage before taking a seat. Our receptionist, Maria, brings in a tray with coffees prompting us to start our meeting.

  It was just after five when they left, and luckily, Gemma’s taking Masen to watch some kite competition at the park, so I can get a few more hours in.

  “Those two are always intense,” Noah says, rubbing his face.

  “I barely understand Mr. Yukon with his accent let alone Mr. Griffith and his constant rambling. I’m exhausted.”

  “You’re telling me. I flew in this morning after going to bed at three in the morning. Haden would be just as tired.”