Thenthe pink plastic pen goes into her mouth again.Herteeth clamp down on the cap with a sharp click, followed by a grating scrape.
Myjaw locks hard enough to spasm a muscle in my cheek.Typinga string of code that makes absolutely no sense gives my hands something to do that isn’t wrapping around her throat or pulling her by the waist.Shehas been chewing on that damn pen for hours while frowning at a discrepancy in the shell company’s tax filings.Theunconscious tic is pure torture.Myeyes trace the movement as her lips part, letting the pink plastic slide between them, and allIcan think about is that mouth on me.Aquick dart of her tongue wets her bottom lip before retreating, and my cock jerks, a leaden, throbbing weight in my jeans.
Sinkingher teeth into the cap again distorts the shape until the plastic turns white, and the phantom friction on my own skin makes me want to replace that pen with my own thick length.
I’mtracking every wet slide, my balls aching with the need to empty my seed into her until she can’t breathe anything but me.Forcingmy focus back to the numbers and the digital threat proves nearly impossible.
Thescreen blurs.Slipperyand elusive, the mirror signal haunting our accounts moves every timeItry to pin it down.Iam theTreasurer, the one who keeps theBrokenHalosfrom crumbling under the weight of our own wars.Ido not lose, andInever let anything distract me.
Anotherclick and scrape echo from her side of the room.
Fuckthe numbers.
Pushingmy chair back sends a screech of metal legs against concrete echoing like a gunshot.Miagasps, her pupils blowing wide at the sudden noise.
"Elias?Didyou find something?"
"Yeah."Myvoice grates like heavy rust. "Ifound the problem."
Standing,Iclose the space between us instantly.Shescrambles to get her legs under her, trying to stand, butIam already there.Toweringover her blocks out the harsh overhead lights and casts her completely in my shadow.
"Whatis it?"Breathlessnesscoats her words.
Oblivious, she expects me to talk about the audit, theIRS, theCostas, or the mole.
Reachingdown,Igrasp her upper arm with a hand weathered by years of working the forge alongsideBlake, applying firm but gentle pressure to steady her without leaving a bruise asIpull her up.Stumblingforward, her hands hit my chest to steady her balance.Herpalms press warm through my black t-shirt, searing the skin underneath.
"Elias?"Hervoice trembles.
Pluckingthe pink pen from her fingers with my free hand,Ifeel the warm plastic, wet with her saliva.Holdingit up,Istare at the mangled cap.
"This,"Igrowl. "Thisis the problem."
Sheblinks rapidly. "Mypen?I...Ineed that to?—"
"Youhave been chewing on it for hours."Thewords rumble low and dangerous in my chest. "Constantlychewing and biting the plastic."
Hercheeks flush a deep, ruinous red. "I—it’s a bad habit.Ido it whenI’mthinking.Ididn’t realize?—"
"Irealized."
Tossingthe pen sends it hitting the far wall with a sharp crack before skittering under the server racks.
"Hey!"Shetries stepping around me to retrieve it. "That’smy favorite?—"
Catchingher waist with both hands,Ihaul her back.Ispin her around, slamming her spine against the wall of steel filing cabinets with a heavy thud.
Shocksteals her breath, my body a solid wall of muscle cushioning the impact.Steppingin,Ilock my boots between hers.Mythighs press against her knees, pinning her flush to the metal.
"Youare driving me insane,Mia."
Theconfession hangs heavy in the air.
Herchest heaves with rapid breaths. "I’mjust trying to work,Elias.Wehave a deadline.TheFeds?—"
"FucktheFeds."Slammingmy hand against the cabinet next to her head rattles the steel. "Doyou have any idea what it looks like?Watchingyou work that plastic between your teeth, your tongue teasing the edge of it?"
Hermouth opens, releasing a small gasp.Hergaze darts to my lips before tracking back up to my eyes.Theterror in her eyes bleeds into a dark, heavy heat that perfectly matches the monster clawing at my ribs.
