Chasing Her Light - Resisting My Brother's Bestie

Fresh Ink

C͟h͟a͟s͟e͟

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my hand over my face, emotionally and physically drained. It isn't easy to keep up the persona I wrap myself in.

When I first got this job, I was thrilled. I needed a new start, somewhere far away from where I thought I would be happy. I grin ironically. It was a lot to take in. I glance at the folders that line my desk in several neat stacks.

It's not like I haven't done this work before. It's just that every company has their focus and that was the toughest part to adjust to.

I link my hands together behind my head and I grin as the memory of this morning's escapade creeps back into my head.

I wasn't expecting it. Especially not from someone in an old Subaru that obviously needed some work. I'm still wondering how she beat my bike.

She had balls, that much I'll say. My size alone intimidates people. I've been over 6 feet from the time I was fourteen and by the time I graduated college, I was almost 6'4, 240 lb solid muscle. I'd kept up with the workouts and I'm more muscular at 29 than I was at 21. My resting b***h face and normally serious demeanor don't make me any more approachable.

I was amused when she glared at me with no fear. I wasn't sure what I had done to piss her off so badly but for some reason it was cute. Not a word I would normally use since I'm used to sluts and gold diggers.

Then this girl I don't know pulls up beside me, music blasting; good music too. Stuff I would listen to. It had surprised me considering she didn't look the type to listen to it.

The stuffed animals on her dashboard that peeked out from around her just made her cuter, death glare and all. The fact that she chose to race a bike in her tiny car makes me wonder what type of woman she really is.

A smile spreads across my face. She'd flipped me off, which only made me laugh.

Seriously f*****g fearless. You don't meet women like that every day. Most people who knew who I was kowtowed at every word I said. I was used to women fawning over me like that mob of women who circled me like vultures earlier. It was unpleasant. I kept a cool head but I was internally cringing. That was not the first impression I wanted from people I would be working closely with. I was sick of people sucking up to me and hiding their true motives.

I sit up, planting my feet firmly on the mat under my desk. Placing my elbows on my thighs, I rest my chin on my folded hands as I try to put together a plan for the morning. I'm unsuccessful, as my mind refuses to focus.

I can't stop thinking about her, that girl. It's not often that I'm fascinated with any woman past the point of pounding her into my mattress. Pretty faces, nice bodies, perfect hair, heavy makeup; they look like dolls to me. I had learned through hard lessons that they were all the same.

It was a cycle. They fawn, I flirt, then they're in my bed, laying underneath me as I use them for my own satisfaction. I'd take them three or four times in one night as I hated the entire process of getting them into my bed. The more I f****d them, the longer I could go without having to scratch my itch.

I'm not gonna lie; s*x had become boring. These women looked good but they were fake in and out of bed. They told me what they thought I wanted to hear and faked orgasms. There was no passion, no depth. There were times I couldn't climax because of it. That's when I would unceremoniously kick them out.

I snap myself out of my somber thoughts and clear my throat. Running my hand through my hair, I sigh. I didn't want s*x. I hadn't thought about it in months. I hadn't had a desire for it but this girl had awakened something in me.

Almost running into her as I pulled into the parking lot surprised me. I hadn't expected to see her again. I didn't expect her to have the curves she did.

This girl, this WOMAN...I couldn't help but stare even as she was shooting daggers at me.

I bite my lip. Watching her walk away and ignoring the blood rushing to my groin was not easy. She was wearing a baggy shirt but that didn't hide what lay underneath. It was a clear morning, the sky cloudless. The light had rendered her shirt almost transparent, allowing me a clear view of her heavy bust and narrow waist.

Perfection.

I shake my head.

It's easier to think she's like all the other vapid women I was used to dealing with. I relax a bit.

That would be a relief actually. I could deal with the familiar. The strange, not so much. No one really knew I had been burned badly by the one woman I had wanted to propose to. I didn't see who she really was until I was already fully invested.

I had sworn off relationships since but would occasionally have one night stands. I'm still a man and have needs. But some of them had gotten really clingy. They started wanting to spend the night and cuddle and s**t, acting like it was more than s*x. Moving had made it so much easier to drop them.

I had made a promise to myself. I wouldn't sleep with anyone at the company. I could find others. There wasn't a shortage of women who would sleep with me, hoping to become my Mrs.

There would never be a Mrs.

Lost in thought, I don't expect the sudden onset of quiet footsteps coming down the hallway. I hear the rustling of papers.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion and I check my watch. It's already past six. Most of the employees should have left a little after 4:30. Matter of fact, I should leave. I need to rest and get used to this new time zone. It was kicking my ass.

I pick up my suit jacket and dust it off before casually throwing it over my shoulder just as the footsteps stop outside my office. I hear the gentle thud of a folder as it's dropped into the box by the door. I step to the left to look out of the windows into the hallway, unable to see anything.

I glance at the folders on my desk. It's all contracts and information on the company. I was told all edits would be digital and that there was no further paperwork I would have to go through or sign.

It has to be edits but why would someone drop off actual paper instead of sending digital edits? Especially after hours? My curiosity piqued, I walk towards the door to see who it is. I open it to the face I've been thinking about all day. Except said face has streaks of ink on it. Looking down at her hands, I realize they're also covered in ink.

Surprised, I blurt out, "I thought we did everything digitally."

She freezes, staring at me, like a deer in headlights. She doesn't look as put together as she was when I saw her walking into work this morning.

Her eyes are tired looking and red, most likely from exhaustion. Her hair is a mess.

Like "she's just been f****d" kinda hair.

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, I chastise myself. You swore off having any type of relationship with anyone you work with.

I want to say something to ease the tension that's building but my mind is completely blank. We just stare at each other. Her eyes widen and something flashes in them. Fear?

I dismiss it. She really doesn't have a reason to fear me, especially with how bold she had been with me earlier.

"I-I-I'm sorry Mis-Mister Gray," she stammers. "I didn't know yo-yo-you were still here. I won't dis-issturb you anymo-mo-mo-more."

With that, she looks down, turns on her heel and rushes away, leaving me there standing there with my mouth open, my mind fuzzy and unable to process what the hell had just happened.