“And you have such a lovely rack. Thick fucking tits I’d love to--.”
Knock, knock, knock.“Mr. Ryker?”
He scrambled to get his belt buckled before he dipped his hand into his pants and rearranged himself. I breathed a heavy sigh of what I can only assume was relief at the sound of his secretary’s voice, but I saw on his face that he wasn’t the least bit pleased. I flopped against the cushion of the chair that cradled me as he stormed past me toward his door. And as I drew in a deep breath, I stood to my feet so that he couldn’t corner me again.
Because I knew if he did, I’d cave.
“What is it?” he asked harshly.
His secretary, Lexie, spoke as if she hadn’t been barked at by some rich white asshole. “I need your signatures on some paperwork from the lawyer. It’s urgent.”
I cleared my throat. “And that’s my cue. Have a nice day, Mr. Ryker.”
Before he could beckon me to stay, I slipped out of his office and booked it back to my own. I slammed my body into the door and took the stairs down but stopped on the landing between his floor and my own. I rubbed my forearms against my tits, trying to settle them down as juices dripped against the cotton of my panties.
“God damn it, what’s wrong with me?” I said breathlessly.
And as I leaned against the wall, I closed my eyes.
It felt wrong to be as turned on as I was, and yet I couldn’t help it. I slid to the floor, crouching and trying to get myself under control before I emerged back into the land of the living. I knew I could report him for harassment. I knew I needed to as well. But, with the fear of retaliation hanging over my head and my inability to admit that I actually hated it, I knew the report wouldn’t go very far.
Especially if my nipples puckered this tightly while talking to the fucking H.R. lady in the first place.
“Jesus, come on. Get up,” I whispered.
After pulling myself up from the concrete landing, I made my way back to my office. I closed my door and was tempted to throw the lock, so I did just to make sure that neither Tommy nor JoJo could barge in on me in the middle of my day. I shot Brit a text to let her know that my door wouldn’t be open for the majority of today, and after she sent me a thumbs-up emoji along with a ringing heart, I decided to get started on my workday.
Maybe if I finished early, I could get out of here without Tommy following me to the garage again.
You report him, that’s his last strike.
JoJo’s words sat heavily in my head. Did I really have the guts to do something like that knowing it’d get a man fired? What would people think if I did? What would JoJo think if I did?
Why the hell do I care about what he thinks?
As I sat in my chair and turned to face the city of Los Angeles behind me, I got very honest with myself. If given the opportunity, I knew I’d cave to JoJo again just to see where it went. Just to see where it could go if he set his disdain for me aside long enough to try and enjoy me. And yet, there was a bigger part of me that figured if I caved, he might leave me alone.
If I sucked the stress right out of his meaty, thick cock, maybe he’d leave me alone.
Until he needs the favor again.
The thought actually made me smile. The thought of JoJo needing something he could only get from me filled me with a joy I didn’t want to verbalize. A war was going on inside my body. A war that would eventually mow people down and hurt those around me just to come to a valid conclusion. On the one hand, I wanted JoJo to leave me alone, and on the other hand I enjoyed him coming onto me like that. I enjoyed his dominance. His control. The way his eyes darkened as his cock tented his pants simply because I sat there like a good little--.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I murmured.
I didn’t know what was going on and it scared me. I’d never been this kind of girl. This kind of woman, really. I’d always wanted the safe and simple life. A decent routine. Enough money to make me comfortable. Maybe a house with a small patch of backyard where my kids might one day frolic on a playground that their father built for them. I didn’t want drama and arguments and tears and broken hearts. I didn’t care about spending money or designer clothes or shopping until I dropped. I was a cheap date, and an even cheaper girlfriend, and I preferred it that way.
It was less complicated that way.
But, as the image of his clothed, hardened dick raced back to the forefront of my mind, I licked my lips.
I would’ve given anything for a taste of him.
For years, I’d been jealous of my sister. She turned every head of every boy back in high school, whereas all the boys did to me was scoff and make jokes about my fat rolls underneath my shirts. And when she started dating JoJo—the rebellious teenager all mothers warned their girls against—I absolutely hated her.
I hated her for dating the one boy I wanted for myself.
My work phone dinged, and I quickly picked it up. Anything to pull me from the debaucherously wrong thoughts soaring through my mind.
