Yeah, I was a unicorn. A horny unicorn with an itch to scratch. And it was all Carter Buchanan's fault. Sure, he was beyond reach, but he was also my fantasy.
If I had my way, I'd walk into his office, climb on his lap as he sat in his desk chair while he was on a conference call and take him for a ride. I'd have pulled his huge cock—and in my dreams it was huge—from his dress pants and impale myself on it. He'd have ripped through my stupid hymen with ruthless precision and then fucked me with an expertise that left me sated and well satisfied.
Just like the long line of women he'd had. I stepped into my little black dress as I thought of Sheila and Tamera and Evelyn, all women he'd taken to various functions and office parties. I'd been barely able to look at him as he'd placed his hand at the small of their backs. His touch never was a blatantly sexual gesture—I'd never seen him once be overtly sexual with any of them—but I wanted him to do it to me nonetheless. I'd feel the heat from his palm on my lower back and he'd guide me wherever he wanted me to go.
I wanted him with a fierceness that made me want to poke those women's eyes out with my letter opener. But I'd needed the job at Buchanan Industries to pay for my master’s program and so I kept my feelings well in check. Carter didn't know I wanted him to bend me over his desk, pull up my skirt and fuck me hard. His hand would cover my mouth so no one else could hear me coming. I didn't care about office policy. He didn't know I watched his ass every time he left Ford’s office, otherwise he'd probably report me to HR. I was just his brother’s secretary and he'd never once indicated he was the least bit interested in me. Until today.
Today, he’d touched me. Kissed my cheek. Had he been fishing for an invite to Frankie’s tonight?
“Shut up, woman. You’re losing it.” I scolded myself in the silence of my bedroom. Carter Buchanan was a billionaire. A sexy, arrogant, hard-nosed businessman. He’d never in a million years be interested in a stupid virgin like me. But if he offered, would I give it to him? Would I let him punch my V card and just be another woman in his long line of them?
Hell, yes.
As I slipped into my heels, I knew it didn't matter. I was leaving the company anyway. Sure, being Ford’s secretary was interesting, and good experience, but I hadn’t gone to school for six fucking years to answer the phone and keep a man’s schedule. No, I’d gotten the call just the day before, a position at a new company in their finance department. All mine. Three times the pay and half the overtime. My final interview with the CEO was tomorrow, but they’d already offered me the job.
In fact, I’d already given Ford my two-weeks notice. One more week, and I was out.
No more making copies and getting coffee. I’d have my own office with an admin assistant working for me. No more Tuesday and Thursday morning meetings with Carter Buchanan. No more sitting across from him ignoring that sexy as hell cologne.
No more Carter.
I walked to the dresser and put my favorite diamond stud earrings in as I scolded myself. “It’s for the best, Emma. You can’t have him. It’s time to move on.”
No. More. Carter.
I couldn't stand to see another picture of him with a gorgeous woman on his arm. I had to give up the dream that he'd ever want me, that he thought of me as anything more than an employee. And so I was thankful for the change my new job would bring. I'd let this ridiculous obsession with Carter go and move on with my life.
Starting tonight. First, I'd find a guy who wanted a good time. In a couple weeks, I'd start my new job as a full-fledged, experienced woman and finally be free of my obsession with Carter Buchanan.
Chapter Three
Carter
I got to the bar early, sat at a stool where the lighting was dim, nursed a drink and watched Emma. She met up with Tori promptly at seven—her punctuality was borderline OCD—and had a drink. Only one, which had kept me relaxed.
They talked and scoped out the room, no doubt debating the man choices for Emma. I was content to sit and stare at her blatant curves, the bright slash of red on her full lips, the way her pale hair fell in ringlets on her neck. But when the ladies moved to the dance floor and random men joined them, I wasn't so patient. Tori looked great, as usual, her body hugged in a tight white dress that highlighted every curve. Her hair was a dark auburn, and next to Emma’s pale blond hair and tight black dress, they were toting some dangerous curves. And I wasn’t the only man in the room who noticed.
It was after the third song that Tori went to the restroom, leaving Emma alone. One guy had danced two songs with her, shifting and swaying with her to the steady beat. He hadn't touched her. Yet. All the men were watching her in that form fitting black dress, some I recognized from the office. With the V-neck, her breasts were on display. Grudgingly, I had to admit that she was dressed tastefully. Emma wasn’t a whore, she was classy. But it was the most of her cleavage I'd ever seen.