We end the call, and I look at my personal phone again. I’ve been thinking about Whit all day, and that’s not like me. I usually forget their names before I’m even out of their ass. What is it about this man? He’s sexy obviously, and a bottom, but more than that, I enjoyed my time with him; I enjoyed taking care of him when he was too tired. That must be some of what Izzy wants with a Daddy. Whit called me Daddy a few times last night.
I wonder what kind of Daddy he wants.
I pick up my phone and put it back down.
Get a grip, Leo. It’s only been like seven hours since you last saw him.
I need to be patient.
Ha! I don’t have a patient bone in my body.
Which is why I ran a search on him earlier using his license plate number.
Whit James Callaway.
Age thirty-two. Bank manager recently relocated from the east coast, away from his mom, dad, and two sisters. Graduated from college with a degree in banking. No children and has never been married. No arrests and no tickets. He has a gym membership, two streaming subscriptions, no dating apps, and a tight ass that I want to bury myself in again.
The thought has my dick perking up, so I grab my phone to text him.
No.
I put the phone down. I don’t want to settle down and have only one guy to fuck. There are so many more guys out there just waiting for my amazing dick.
Why can’t I stop thinking about him then?
I pick up my phone again, and I’m typing Whit a message when my work phone rings.
I sigh and delete the text I was writing before I answer.
“Did you try restarting it?”
“If I have to explain this one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.” I rub my temples. “Get everyone in here who needs to be in here, and we will start again after I get more coffee.”
I storm out of the room.
I was told there were seven people working on this job. Only five of them are here, and every fricking manager in the building has come in since I got here an hour ago to check in.
My coffee is just finishing brewing when someone comes up to me. “Are you allowed to be up here?”
I turn to him with a fuck-you look on my face, and he flinches but recovers.
“Trust me, I don’t fucking want to be here, but all of you are idiots when it comes to computers, so here I am.”
“Excuse me?” He sounds offended. I take a sip and watch him. That’s when he looks down and notices my badge. “Maybe ifyour programs weren’t so slow, we wouldn’t have problems,” he throws back.
“Your computer’s running slow? There’s an easy way to fix it. It was in the last three monthly memos we sent out.”
“No one reads those.” He scoffs.
“And that’s why… Ge-off,” I purposely mispronounce his name, even though I know it’s Jeff. “Your computer is running slow.”
“Maybe if you fixed it, I wouldn’t need to do anything else.”
“Let’s go to your desk.” I head off, and he stumbles after me. I ask the first person I find where Ge-off’s desk is and sit at his locked computer.
“You don’t know my password.” He crosses his arms defiantly.
“Like that’s an issue.” I log into his computer and pull up his memos. “When using IX, any other open windows will slow the software down. This is to encourage proper use of your time and discourage time-wasting websites such as YouTube.”
