Page 3 of Dirty Little Secrets
Bad, bad girl. You’re a work. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
As the fabric slips past my knees, my thighs, and scrunches up at my hips, I suck in a shaky breath and glance out of my office, a teeny part of me hoping someone will look inside. See me. Notice what I’m about to do.
Exhibitionist.
My core clenches with deprived need as I curl my fingers under my panties, biting my lip as I lock gaze with the man on my screen.You little fucking whore. My thighs part further, and I curl a finger inside myself, theslickness coating my skin. Pleasure courses through my body as I give myself what I deserve. What I want. What I desperately need.
Your boss can come in at any moment, Emery. I hope he does. Quickening my pace, eyes shut, I throw my head back, whimpers of imminent release slipping past my lips.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, panting as I come undone all over my computer chair. The phone rings.You better get that.Swallowing, I answer. “Hello?”
“Conference room in five minutes, Miss Jones,” my boss states. “You’ll be presenting.”
“See you in there,” I whisper, my pussy still vibrating as I hang up.
Locking the computer screen, I see my reflection in the black mirror. This time, I recognize the woman looking back at me. She winks, tacitly sealing our secret into a deep, impenetrable vault.
THE FOUR WALLS
DAMON
God used to punish me.His wrath, His vengeance, and His need for reciprocity would smother my unconscious mind every night. And I’d let Him. I craved it. The pain. The anguish. The crippling feeling of being utterly hopeless. The self-flagellation only worked for so long. But the demons never vanished. They never faded into distant memories. No. The memories are and have been my companions since the day I played God, and in turn, God played me.
I no longer play His games.
The dull blades of the mahogany ceiling fan spin above me, creating a noise just white enough that my eyes remain open and my mind shut. My gaze follows the swirling blades, like the blades of the chopper. Icontrol my breaths as I countdown the seconds until the alarm rings and another defensive day begins.
Three… Two… One…
“Good morning, handsome.” Her voice cuts through the humming of the alarm, and I crane my neck to the left side of the bed. She should not have stayed the night. She knows she should have left. I won’t use her again. She also knows that. Her manicured fingers dance up my bare arm but nothing happens. No shiver. No reaction. Nothing. It’s always nothing. “How’d you sleep, baby?” She grins at me, gaze drifting to my unresponsive cock. “What about a little?—”
“You should leave.” I jerk upright, pulling away from her as I get out of bed. She pouts, the gray silk sheet slipping down her chest and exposing her perky breasts. I sigh, tilting my head as I skim her smooth skin. It’s not her fault. It’s never their fault. It’s just the way it is now. “You can collect your money from Javier on your way.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, grunting as she dramatically gets out of the bed. She aggressively collects her clothes off the bedroom floor. Great. She’s going to rant. They always do. Three… Two… “You know,” she whips her head in my direction, “I don’t understand you,MisterCavanaugh. You call in the middle of the night, make me sign a stupid fucking form, and then you don’t even?—”
I hold my hand up, featured hardened. “Enough.”
So much for a professional. I’m going to have to give her employer a call. For the amount of money I’vepaid, the last thing I need is lip. Especially from lips that don’t know their place.
She crosses her arms, scowling at me, and I give her a look. A look that I've carefully curated over the years to ensure the recipient loses all sense of control, of power, of brazen cattiness. She swallows as I stride toward her and cup her jaw between my fingers.
“If you wish to remain in this profession, then I highly recommend knowing when to stop talking.” I cock my head, meeting her suddenly frightened expression. I used to enjoy this. “Now…” I drop my hand and nod at the door. “Fuck off.”
“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, jogging out of the bedroom, hugging all the belongings in her arms.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sit on the edge of the bed. I understand her confusion. It must be perplexing in her line of work to meet someone like me. What I don’t understand is why they always get so angry, like I’ve slighted them. Like I’ve committed some cardinal sin. If only they knew the sort of sins that this body has perpetrated. They’d run as fast as the wind could carry them. At some point, they always run. Always leave. Always.
“Sir,” Javier appears at the bedroom door, a folder in his hand, “I have compensated the lady.”
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding at the documents before grabbing a velvet robe from the wardrobe and slipping it on. Javier stays silent as he watches me with concern. “Well?”
“How much longer will you do this, Damon?” he asks, tone low. “At some point, you will need to?—”
Ignoring his quasi-parental worries, I yank the folder from his hand and march toward the kitchen. The documents inside contain forecasted trends that coat my tongue with bitter anger.
“This can’t be right,” I mutter, pulling a double shot of espresso from the machine. “Run the numbers again.”
“We did.” Javier follows me to the lounge as I sit by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Stratus clouds conceal the bustling city beneath my feet, separating me from a world I refuse to reenter. For their sake. Not my own. “There are two potential investors flying in tonight from Hong Kong.”
