I didn’t want things to happen like this. Sure, I had some sick fantasy of bedding the bullshit boss I had to deal with on a regular basis, but not like this. Like this, I was nothing but a piece of trash. A cum dumpster, serving only to clean up his mess once he was done pouring himself into my mouth.
I wanted more than that.
I deserve more than this.
“Here, I’ll help you this one time,” JoJo said.
And I swear to hell on high, when he pulled that thick, rigid cock out from beneath his pants, I’d never seen something more holy. His cock was damn near perfect, with an aching tip ready to release his load. I licked my lips as I felt myself caving to his desires. I scooted closer to it, marveling its beauty and the way the veins on the underside of his dick throbbed with need for me.
Or, maybe just a need, in general.
“JoJo, I-I-I--.”
He pulled my face closer. “It’s ‘Mr. Ryker’ to you now. Don’t you dare call me anything differently.”
I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes. “Okay, Mr. Ryker.”
He grinned. “Ready when you are.”
I looked around with my eyes, trying to find some way to get the hell out of this. Not that I didn’t want it, but I was confused and needed time to sift through the sick part of me that wanted this more than anything. I didn’t want to be that woman. I didn’t want to be the woman that got beat up by men and enjoyed it. I wanted someone to cherish me. To protect me. To regard my own sense of self-worth as important as his.
“Well?” he asked.
I stretched my arms over my head. “Let me find a more comfortable position than this.”
And when I eased my arms up above my head, I felt my elbow knock against something.
Before a jar of pen ink spilled right into his lap.
“What the fuck!?”
He stood so quickly that his knee connected with the underside of my chin. It slammed my teeth into my tongue and instantly, my mouth filled with this metallic flavor. JoJo growled and cursed as he stormed across his office, rummaging through something as I slipped out from beneath his desk.
Then, I rushed to his trash can to spit a mouth full of blood into it before I raced out of his office.
“Miss Becca, is everything--?”
I waved at Lexie. “Hi there! Bye there!”
The pain that ricocheted through my mouth brought tears to my eyes. I ran down to my office and slammed the door behind me, locking it in the process. And I swear to God, I heard JoJo cursing and screaming above my head.
I need a damn mirror.
After digging through my purse, I found one down at the very bottom. With my lower lip covered in blood, I took a chance and stuck my tongue out.
Only to see that my teeth had punched holes in the underside of it.
“Fuck, I need a doctor,” I groaned.
“Knock, knock!” Brit sing-songed.
When she tried to open my door, though, she couldn’t get inside.
“Everything okay, Becca?” she asked.
I quickly typed a note into my schedule and put in for a sick day, though I didn’t give a shit if it was accepted or not. Because if JoJo didn’t want me opening my mouth and telling everyone about this sick dance we were doing, then he wouldn’t part those lips of his.
“Just not feeling well. Don’t want you to get sick,” I called out.
