Page 119 of Twisted Knight

My cock twitches as I stand from my desk. “Someone’s trying to earn the merit badge for preparedness tonight.”

“Someone has to take control.”

“Is that what this is called? You taking control?”

Her laugh is deep and throaty. “It’s called come and find me.”

Most definitely.

“Care to give me a hint?”

“I’m somewhere where you can sit and eat.”

“My face.”

Another laugh that has my balls drawing up. “Sounds promising,” she murmurs and then the line goes dead.

I’m out of the office and walking down the hall, hands already undoing the buttons on my shirt cuffs as I go. The lunchroom is empty, and I stand there staring at the beige wonderland of tables and chairs.

Where else do people eat in this place?

The outdoor patio. I’m on the move to the other side of the floor and push open the doors. No one is there, but I do find a rather sexy pair of black leather panties draped across the middle of the table.

The vision of her wearing nothing but those and heels has me grabbing my cock and adjusting it through my pants. My phone vibrates in my hand. “You left something behind,” I say.

“Mmm-hmm. It’s okay to have to work hard for what you want, Holden.” Her voice is seduction and silk. It owns me in the best kind of way.

“Another clue,” I demand.

“Be resourceful.”

The line ends as I rush to the human resources department. Going past one cubicle after another, checking under the desks as I go. My shirt front is unbuttoned. My belt is hanging loose. When I hit the last desk, a red lacy bra is hanging from the exit sign over the door.

I snatch it down and run the fabric through my fingers.

My cell rings.

“Red. Black. Leather. Lace. What’s your preference, Mr. Knight?” she purrs in greeting.

Mr. Knight. I’d love to hear her say that when her mouth is wrapped around my cock and it’s hitting the back of her throat.

“You.” I grate the word out. “My preference is you.”

“Then you’re going to have to work a little harder to find me.”

“It’s all fun and games, Rowan.…”

Another throaty chuckle. “And then what? And then Rowan gets fucked?”

“You’re goddamn right she does,” I mumble as the call ends, and I move down the main corridor like a policeman, clearing each room as I go.

Another pair of panties—crotchless I might add—greets me outside of her office door. A place I covered on my way to the lunchroom so I know she’s on the move.

“Rowan,” I call out to her, the desperation thick in my voice.

My phone alerts a text. Warmer.

I move into her office and when I do, I hear a pair of feet pad down the hallway, but by the time I get back out there she’s nowhere to be found.