“Just one detail, and I’ll let it be.” When I say nothing, he adds, “Promise.”
I shouldn’t.
You should. Tell him.In detail.
Once more, it’s like I’ve lost control of my own mouth. Maybe I have. It’s the only thing that explains why I keep giving Neo exactly what he’s asking for. “You were gagged.”
His eyes widen, and his hand drifts down to skim the top of his jeans. I follow it, my gaze fixing on the bulge beneath the denim. It almost hurts to drag my eyes away from it, but I do.
“Gagged?” Neo’s voice is faint, but I have no trouble hearing every word. “Why? Oh my god.”
“Come sit down and get back to work. I don’t pay you to listen to me talk about my dreams.”
“I mean, I’d pay you to let me listen to them. They sound fucking fun. More than your boring self.”
I point to the chair that is almost on top of my own, and he moves toward it, adjusting himself as he goes.
My fingers tap the edge of the desk. “They are not fun, I assure you.”
“So, were you, like, torturing me or something, or was it sexy?” He plops down and leans toward me, his head in his hand.
I shift my gaze away. “I’ve said enough.”
He sighs. “Come on, Wylder. Gimme something to get off on.”
“You have Kyle to get off on.” If he calls Kyle after that dick ran away from Neo the other night, I might actually murder him. Kyle, that is, not Neo.
I have other ways I can punish Neo. Kyle has already been dealt with by Samson as per the request to the Firm.
I didn’t trust myself to go easy on Kyle. And, by easy, I mean not slit his throat for leaving Neo in danger.
From the corner of my eye, I see his smirk. “But you’d rather it be you, amiright?”
I continue staring at the computer screen, my eyes aching from not blinking.
I feel his finger drag across my bicep, and it flexes under his touch.
“All right, I’ll pretend I was naked, you above me, your mouth…”
I stand up quickly and step away from him, my breathing ragged. “Enough.”
When I look at him, his eyes are twinkling. “Fine. I’ll stop, but tomorrow you give me something else.”
I clench my teeth. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
I hesitate, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into before moving toward the door. “I’m going to get something to drink.”
“Make mine a double.”
I don’t correct him that I didn’t mean alcohol. Maybe I do need a drink.
The drink didn’t help. I spent the remainder of the day hyperaware of him. Saying things I knew I shouldn’t. Letting him slip under my skin like he belongsthere.
He does.
He doesn’t. No one does. I can barely cope with existing there myself. I don’t expect anyone else to be able to tolerate it.
