Reckless

by Stella Rhys

  And latched his mouth onto my clit.

  “Adam!”

  He hit mute just as I gasped at the sensation, moaning as he sucked, forcing my stomach muscles to start fluttering already. I tipped my head back, keeping the image of his face buried between my legs as I closed my eyes, mouth open but forcing myself not to moan as I felt the wet warmth of his tongue pulsing against me, and heard the metal jangling of him jerking his belt undone.

  He licked me up and down as he started jerking off, dragging the flat of his tongue up my wet length, swirling it around and around and giving low, quiet groans before murmuring about how wet I was. How fucking good I tasted.

  It all just felt unreal.

  Like a fantasy.

  Especially as he took Knox off mute and kept talking, slowly getting through to him between his stroking, wet licks of my pussy. And with my head tipped back, I could hardly tell when he was taking the call off mute and putting him back on. All I heard was him speaking normally to Knox one second then loudly sucking on my clit the next. It was as nerve-wracking as it was arousing, and I swore I could’ve come a dozen times already. But desperately, I held out, my stomach clenching and my nails scraping uselessly against the smooth surface of his desk, especially as he slid his fingers inside me—one at first, then another and another—rumbling again about my wetness, the sound of pleasure and approval in his voice as he started pumping and sucking at once, all while furiously jangling that belt buckle as he jerked himself off.

  As soon as he hung up with Knox, I came, dizzy as pleasure escaped my lips in desperate little gasps that I tried to keep as quiet as possible, but I was only half-successful. I couldn’t help the delirious moan that slipped out as I stayed spread on Adam’s desk, coming down from my heights while listening to him edge toward his own.

  His breaths were growing shorter, harsher, and I wasn’t sure what come over me when I decided to kneel at his feet. All I knew was that I loved the carnal look in his eyes as he gazed down at me, his teeth gnashed and his upper lip curling as he gave two more pumps of his dick before streaking my tits in thick ribbons of cum.

  Holy God, I want to remember that face forever, I thought as I studied Adam, his jaw hanging open and his eyebrows sloping as he breathed out sounds of such low, gravelly, ridiculously sexy pleasure I just wanted to come all over again.

  But instead I rubbed my breasts, spreading him all over my skin and making his eyes widen as he shook his head, still stroking himself gently as he watched me.

  Admittedly, it took awhile to get cleaned up.

  But it could’ve taken longer, considering how tempted I was to go for round two as I kissed Adam deeply while buttoning up my shirt, smiling against his lips as he muttered under his breath, almost angrily, about how fucking perfect I was.

  “I don’t know what the fuck I would do without you.”

  He said those words with his fingers threaded in my hair, and they were the last ones he spoke before we were interrupted, and before I rushed to get back to my desk, an utterly casual look on my face as I scanned the office.

  Only once I confirmed that everyone was still going about their day—not even looking in my direction, let alone at me—I cracked a smile. Just a small one that was entirely for myself, because I knew what Adam and I just did was crazy.

  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love every second of it.

  20

  ADAM

  I had a specific task to finish while I was here, but that wasn’t happening for a variety of reasons, starting with the fact that Engelman wouldn’t stop anxiously texting me about Knox coming in today.

  Which was actually doubly distracting, because naturally, texts on that topic got me thinking about my conversation with Knox in my office yesterday—in particular, what I was doing when I persuaded him to meet us today.

  Yeah, nice try, buddy, but not right now, I told my dick, firmly willing it back down as I sat for breakfast on the half-full patio at Gizzy’s.

  The place was a little white shack of a building with blue shutters, potted greenery in every corner, and big flowering cactuses flanking the front entrance. Lights were strung above the picnic tables and wicker chairs that decorated the outdoor patio where I’d sat every morning since the place opened four years ago.

  In that time, I’d watched it turn into a fairly popular brunch spot. But thankfully, it was less crowded on the weekdays, giving me space to get in some much-needed alone time before I launched into another day of nonstop meetings, video calls and shooting the shit.

  It was like I lived a second life here.

  None of the other regulars here knew me as Adam Maxwell from Engelman. Instead, I was just the guy who came in solo every morning and sat in the corner near the owner’s dogs, Rocky and Ruby. Ruby was the massive, majestic German Shepherd, and though I preferred big dogs, I was partial to Rocky the chug. He was sixteen, arthritic and going blind in both eyes, but otherwise he was pretty damned healthy. He kept a heating pad under his bed to help with the arthritis pain and had completed hydrotherapy to lose a whopping three pounds last year.

  So, yeah.

  This was the kind of dumb shit I cared about at Gizzy’s.

  And honestly, it was nice. There were days when the stress still managed to creep into my time here, but for the most part, this weird little place place was my haven.

  “Hey, you. Special delivery from the kitchen.”

  I looked up to see my waitress, Samantha, making room on my table for a small plate of two freshly baked cinnamon rolls that I realized I’d been smelling the buttery scent of for the past ten minutes.

  “Goddamn, that looks good,” I said. “Please thank Heidi for me, but would you also let her know that I’m—”

  “Stuffed? She knows,” Samantha giggled, producing a take-out box from behind her back. “She said try a bit now, take the rest to work and give one to your assistant,” she instructed, her big smile sparkling on me for a few seconds before her flirty eyes looked back down at the table. “That’s some classy stationery you go there. Never thought I’d see someone like you write snail mail,” she mused. “Love letter?”

  I laughed. “Not quite.”

  “Well. Love letter or not, there’s always something very romantic about writing by hand,” she said, practically beaming at me. “My grandma always said that letters by hand come from the heart.”

  I lifted my eyebrows to humor her, which I did in some form pretty much every Wednesday when she was my waitress. “Yeah?”

  “Mm-hm! I mean it obviously takes more effort than just sending a text. When you write by hand, you just mean it more,” she said brightly. “You know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, maybe,” I said. And maybe I didn’t do as good a job humoring her this time, because she laughed sheepishly.

  “Well, either way, I think whoever receives that letter is going to feel very lucky,” she said, biting her lip at me before she bounced on her heel and walked away.

  Yeah.

  I highly doubt that, I thought as I looked back down at my half-written letter. But before I could try and get another line in, my phone pinged with a text.

  KNOX: You know what I decided to take you up on your offer.

  I stared at it for a second, unsure of what offer Knox was even talking about. But before I could ask, he followed up.

  KNOX: Been jonesing for a date shake from Judy’s in Palm Springs. RTA couldn’t come through on that request but something tells me you will.

  “For Christ’s sake,” I said aloud.

  There were a hundred places to get a good date shake, but he wanted one from the place two hours away.

  I was in the middle of suggesting a closer spot when he texted again.

  KNOX: And don’t try to save time by going to the spot in Newport Beach

  KNOX: That place is trash

  Alright.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I heaved a sigh, drumming my fingers on the table and just breathing for a minute, becaus
e God, I couldn’t stand this fucking asshole.

  He blatantly reveled in being immature. Acting as intolerable as possible, because he didn’t actually want an agent. It was painfully clear that he hated agents and any type of person whose advice he had to heed. It was why he initially hired his hometown buddy to be his agent, and of course, that dumbass move was precisely how he got himself stuck in a shitty, incentive-based contract that paid him according to the number of innings he pitched—which looked great on paper, assuming he remained a starter throughout his contract.

  But surprise, surprise, he did not.

  Because no one fucking likes you, Knox, I thought, trying my hand at immaturity for a second. But it didn’t feel as good as I’d hoped, so instead I got myself together, reminding myself that as much as I hated him—as much as I didn’t need the commission from his contract—he was still very much worth the trouble.

  And still someone I desperately wanted to sign.

  So grabbing my phone, I went to text AJ, simply sending her the screenshots of Knox’s texts, to which she replied immediately.

  AJ: Oh my God

  AJ: What a dick. That shake is forever away

  AJ: But don’t worry. I got this

  I laughed at her reaction, feeling myself breathing easier already.

  But I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  This was how it had always been. This wasn’t even the weirdest thing AJ had gone to get for one of my clients. Usually, she went alone on these excursions.

  But this time, I felt like sharing the burden.

  ADAM: I’ll come with you. Meet me downstairs in 30 minutes

  21

  AJ

  The date shake place was two hours away. That made the trip four hours back and forth. It was 10AM now, the meeting was at at 3PM sharp, and honestly, I doubted that Knox had even asked RTA to get the shake first. He was just doing this because he knew he had the power to slightly fuck with us right now.

  And it would’ve been the worst if I weren’t perfectly happy to go on a mini adventure with Adam this morning.

  “Here you go. Just these three things?”

  Handing me a cooler, a bag of ice and a long spoon was the manager from the restaurant in the lobby of our building, which was so used to agents requesting weird things last minute that they didn’t even think twice about providing it.

  “That’s it. Thank you!” I said before heading out the restaurant and the building to see Adam’s Range Rover parked out front.

  He had a hell of a cute smile waiting for me when I got in the passenger seat.

  “Morning,” he said, his eyes skimming over my white Oxford shirt and hip-hugging cigarette pants. I smiled back.

  “Morning,” I said, trying not to melt under his stare because he was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me.

  But he didn’t, and that was fine, because we were still in front of the building, and there were other important things to do, like get snacks.

  It didn’t matter what time of day it was—snacks were customary for every car ride at least two hours long. I didn’t even have to say a word for Adam to know to drop by my quesataco truck, and it didn’t even matter that we’d both had breakfast recently. It was understood. When the ride was two or more hours long, we got to have car snacks and second coffee.

  “What, are these for the way back?” I snorted when Adam somewhat swerved to get out of the way of a crazy driver, then immediately told me to check on the cinnamon rolls in the back. He smirked at my question.

  “Yeah. From Heidi. They’re okay?”

  I laughed. “Yes, the cinnamon rolls are unharmed. You managed to swerve this giant-ass car very smoothly.”

  “Well, I’ve been driving this thing for fifteen years, so I better.”

  I nodded absently before pausing. “Wait—what? You’ve been driving this very car since you were seventeen?”

  “No, not this one. But it was a pretty similar Range Rover.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Well, la dee da,” I teased, making him grin. “I grew up driving a hand-me-down Honda. Which was honestly pretty good for sneaking in and out of the house. I can’t imagine being stealthy with this beast of a car. Even just the flash of my Civic lights coming into the driveway was enough to wake up my mom.”

  “Well, my dad was on and off with how hard he tried to stop me from sneaking out. But even when he did have the energy to try and keep me in check, it was still pretty easy ‘cause we had this circle driveway. And my parents’ bedroom faced the backyard anyway.”

  “I see,” I said, adding the details to my existing image of Adam’s childhood.

  It was always funny thinking about what teenaged Adam was like, because it was the part of him I didn’t really know at all. We didn’t talk often about his childhood in New Jersey because, well, we had about nine million more important things to talk about on a daily basis and beyond that, the topic generally led back to his mom, and how he openly despised her.

  Hell, I kind of despised her too. It was why I’d been so active in helping his sister finally carry out her long-hatched secret plan to move out. Adam and I had actually fought constantly over her during that time, bickering about whether it was best for her to live in this neighborhood or that, and whether she should go with my real estate friend or his. In the end, Holland got so sick of our debating that she resorted to an extremely sketchy apartment listing on Craiglist.

  Thankfully, it led her to a perfect roommate, who indirectly led her back to Iain’s life.

  I smiled as I thought about them, trying to conjure up my most vivid image of the Maxwell household.

  “Okay, so Range Rover. Circle driveway. And from what I recall, Iain would crash in your pool house when he stayed over,” I said. Adam peered at me, wearing a quizzical look but already laughing.

  “Yeah. What are you getting at?”

  “Nothing. I’m just rounding out the already-clear picture I had of who Adam Maxwell was in high school.”

  Adam snorted. “Which was what?”

  “King of Barton Prep. Life of the party. Drove all his teachers nuts by paying zero attention in class and being a complete dickhead yet somehow always acing the tests. Star of the basketball team. Probably started for the football team too, whether or not he deserved that position.”

  Adam laughed. “Shit. You actually nailed it.”

  “And just to round out my stereotypical presumptions, I’m going to go ahead and guess that you were prom king.”

  “I was not, because Barton Prep was a Catholic all-boys school and we didn’t have time for that dumb bullshit.”

  “Oh, well excuse me. I’m just a public school kid who actually had normal things like homecoming and prom.”

  “Well, we had prom,” Adam said. “We just didn’t have prom court.”

  “I see. And who was your date?”

  Adam looked over his shoulder as he switched lanes, and I thought he hadn’t heard my question. But a couple seconds later, he answered, “My girlfriend.”

  I blinked.

  He glanced at me. “You look surprised.”

  “I literally thought you’d never had a girlfriend before in your life.”

  “Yeah, well. I did.”

  “How long did you date?”

  “Three years.”

  “Holy shit.” I wasn’t sure why I was so taken aback, but this was blowing my mind. “So most of high school.”

  “Yeah. Which I think is considered a decade in high school years.”

  I managed a laugh. “Add Adam years to that equation and you were basically married.”

  Adam snorted. “Basically.”

  I looked at him, trying to gauge if he was actually agreeing with me or just repeating after me absently. Then I asked myself why the hell I was taking this so seriously.

  “What was her name?” I asked directly before jumping at the sheer volume of his phone ringing through the Bluetooth of his car.

  “Ah, Jesus. Fuckin’ Engelman
,” Adam muttered before picking up and getting immediately blasted with Engelman’s voice.

  “What the hell is a date shake?” he asked, prompting Adam to groan and me to muffle a laugh.

  “It’s a shake, Don. Made of dates. What the hell else would it be?”

  I snorted, and as they talked, I checked my texts and work emails, all the while marveling over the fact that only Adam could get away with bitching and moaning and cursing on the phone with the head boss of bosses.

  I tried not to laugh as the call stretched on, getting to that point in conversations that Adam hated. Silly stuff unrelated to work. Talking about golf and shooting the shit. It was like a saving grace when Adam’s friend Sully from law school just so happened to call.

  “Don, hey. I gotta go, I got a call,” Adam said urgently, assuring Engelman he’d keep him post before hanging up and grinning broadly. “Sully. What’s up, brother.”

  But the voice that came back wasn’t Sully. It was a woman’s voice—low and sultry, and dripping with sex while simply saying, “Hey, you.”

  Adam and I paused as we stared at the screen. Judging by his quizzical expression, he didn’t recognize the voice. But it hit him quickly enough.

  “Naomi,” he finally said.

  “Mm-hm. Had to use Sully’s phone to get you to pick up. That’s not very nice,” Naomi said, though the undertones of her words were still very much I’d like you to fuck me—which was honestly fair enough considering they were strictly fuck buddies, and he’d canceled on her last-minute on Sunday night.

  The night of that mind-blowing kiss.

  That you should not be thinking about right now as he talks to a woman he’s slept with many more times than you, I thought while making a face at Adam, because I hated when he took personal calls on speaker without telling the other party that someone else was listening. Almost done, Adam mouthed as Naomi went on about the swanky hotel she booked.