He waited again, remembering her delicate pink skin he’d had his mouth on only two days before and her throaty gasps as his tongue had plundered her softest parts.
He typed, Now stop.
Only a few seconds later, her DM replied, Yes, please?
Stop. No more touching yourself tonight. If you’re a very good girl tomorrow, maybe I’ll let you come.
The dots danced as she must be considering her reply.
If she was a brat, she would scream with frustration and maybe finish herself off, which would provoke a stern punishment from him, probably to provoke a stern punishment from him.
If she were a true little, she’d be looking up at him with wide, weepy eyes and nodding before he turned her over and fucked her from behind without letting her come.
Finally, her direct message arrived, Yes, sir.
And he regretted not fucking her at the Devilhouse even more. Send me a picture of your unsatisfied pussy.
A few moments later, the picture came, her folds dark pink and glistening.
Good girl. Go to sleep now.
Not that he was going to be able to sleep. Probably not for hours, even after he showered and jacked off to relieve the grinding tension in his hips and balls.
Tristan slowed his breathing. He had no one to blame but himself, and the damned spreadsheets still needed to be completed. He limped over to his desk and sat in the office chair, sighing as the grid of numbers came into view. So many numbers. So many.
Berating himself about the meeting that would be happening tomorrow morning that he really should be more prepared for, Tristan forced himself to focus and began to see patterns in the numbers that might be of value the next day. Maybe he should always analyze spreadsheets whilst sporting wood. Perhaps that was the secret to figuring out the most obscure of patterns.
He was so intent on manipulating the numbers that he almost missed a hesitant series of shy taps on his bedroom door.
Jian probably wanted his opinion on whether his shirt should be Asian-pressed or European-ironed for the meeting the next day.
Tristan called, “Come in,” without looking up.
His bedroom door opened, but no one spoke back to him.
After a moment of silence, Tristan realized that no one was talking, so he looked up.
As his chin was moving, a memory of the previous morning’s shooting arose, and he almost threw himself to the floor and out of the line of fire before he realized that his killer hamster was peeking through the half-open door. “Colleen?”
She wore a white tee-shirt that swung around her curvaceous body, the cotton knit clinging to her breasts. Her shorts were light blue, and the outfit could have been pyjamas or workout wear. She said, “I saw a light under the crack of the door, so I thought you must be up. I was just wondering if you needed me to take notes or anything.”
Tristan leaned back in his chair, glad that the desk was between her and his lap. “I thought you had your own room.”
“Oh, yeah. You’ve been very generous. I really appreciate how generous you’ve been. I just came up to see if you needed anything because you gave me the keycard, and I’m your coding consultant for the week.”
Tristan grinned at her and closed the DM chat with the pretty pink pictures in it. “That is the weakest excuse for sneaking into someone’s bedroom at midnight I have ever heard, and I went to boarding school in Europe.”
Colleen shrank. “I’ll leave.”
“Don’t go,” he heard himself say.
She turned back, her wide eyes wary.
“I deliberately didn’t ask Jian for your room number, and I’ve been fighting the urge to beat it out of him all night.”
She stepped further into his room and closed the door behind herself, though she took a step backward and leaned against the frame with her hands behind her.
A click reached his ears, the sound of the lock engaging.
