Rising, I walk to the bed, lay the box down, and open it. The dildos range in size from small to medium, but none are particularly big. At first, I wonder why that is, until I Google it and discover that they’re actually butt plugs.
Crawford has talked about fucking my ass before, but he’s never tried it. For a moment, I’m lost in the idea of Crawford fucking me and Ambrose shoving his cock into my ass from behind.
I feel a rush of heat between my legs and bend down to pick up the largest of the plugs. I’m definitely not putting this up my ass, but I have another plan for it.
I’m not going to need much lube for this thing.
Climbing onto the bed, I pull off my panties and sit there with the thing in my hand for about five minutes. All I know is it’s not going anywhere near my ass, I’ll use it in the ‘traditional’ sense until I research that side of things in more detail.
I have Crawford’s number from when he called me. Is that the number he wanted me to use to send the pictures?
I spread my legs, the plug warm from my hand.
Pulling my knees up, I glance at the door furtively before placing it at the opening to my body as I push it in.
I’m used to taking Crawford’s massive dick by now, and I’m surprised by how easily the toy slides inside me. I moan low in the back of my throat, wanting to use it for real, but I have to take the picture first.
Once it’s pushed inside me, but still visible, I spread my legs. Retrieving my phone, I swipe open the camera and push it down between my thighs; the obscene image is stark and shocking on the screen.
I stare at myself, not having seen my own body from this angle before. Then I snap the picture.
Before I can overthink it, I press the share button, scroll to Crawford’s number, and then hit send. If I don’t do it now, I never will, and I have to try whatever I can to keep this job.
I squeeze the plug inside me, my hand moving down to take hold of it as I start to push it further in, then pull it out and do it again. It feels good, but not half as good as Crawford’s cock.
I lie back, staring at the ceiling, and pleasure myself as I writhe on the bed. As I arch upward, my body hot and filled with need, I imagine Crawford is there with me, watching from the corner of the room.
I come hard, collapsing back on the bed with it still inside me.
Well, if that picture doesn’t get his attention, I’m not sure what will.
Chapter 22
Amelia
By the morning, I’m spiraling. I sent the text at 11 p.m., and I know for a fact that Crawford never sleeps. He regularly emails me in the early hours, but he hasn’t replied.
As I get ready for work, I check my phone obsessively, waiting for a text, an email—anything.By the time I get on the subway, my palms are sweating, and I have my phone in my hand the whole way, staring at it, willing something to show up.
But nothing does.
Walking into the office, my mind is a flurry of half-imagined disasters. I picture walking up to my desk, finding Crawford and HR standing there, holding a termination form, telling me my actions were disgusting and depraved.
Every time my phone lights up with a notification, I imagine that it’s Sterling House telling me I’m fired for breach of contract.
I feel sick as I walk to my desk.
I sit down and wait for the buzzer to sound, but it’s eerily quiet. Opening my computer, I glance at his door obsessively, clicking on his calendar to see where he’s supposed to be today. He should be in the office this morning, and usually he wouldcall for me as soon as I sit down. I wait patiently for him to emerge.
By midday, he still hasn’t appeared. I have no emails from him, no texts, and I haven’t heard a sound from his office. No one has come by to see him, and he had a meeting scheduled at ten.
Eventually, I can’t stand the suspense any longer and call Kaitlin.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asks, sounding busy.
“Did Crawford cancel his meeting with Kendrick at ten?” I ask, and I hear the clicking of her mouse through the phone.
“No, Kendrick couldn’t make that one. He called last night to say he had to be out of the office. Is everything okay?”
