Page 56 of Dirty Little Secrets
“And you’re not?”
I shrug. “I’ve never been one to get emotionally attached to people.”
“By choice or disposition?”
“I…” Unease stirs in my stomach. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“I hope it’s the latter,” Quin says, tone fragile and soft. “Only a person who suffered great pain chooses to disconnect. I couldn’t bear the thought of you hurting.”
I sigh. “How unfortunate. You’re also a romantic.”
“No, darling,” he says as my office door swings open and Damon appears before me.Fuck. He looks pissed. “Not anymore.”
“I’ll let you go now,” I say, clearing my throat as Damon strides toward my desk, a gift bag in hand. “Have a good day, Doctor Marquis.”
Quin chuckles. “Is Cavanaugh there? Send him my best wishes.”
“I will,” I say, ignoring the blazing glare from Damon. “We’ll see you at the gala on Friday.”
“I hope you solve the puzzle before then,” Quin says. “If not, my offer for a clue still stands.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, straightening my shoulders to match Damon’s power pose as I hang up my cell phone. “Mr. Cavanaugh. Can I help you with something?”
Damon’s lip twitches. “You’ve disobeyed my order, Miss Jones. Do you know what that means?”
I smirk up at him. “And what are you going to do about it, sir?” I tilt my head. “Give me a little spanking?”
Damon subtly shakes his head, a ghost of a dangerous smile clipping his lips as he closes the blinds in my office. “I would, but I think you’d enjoy it toomuch.” He turns around, swinging the little gift bag on his index finger. “But this, I think, would be a proper punishment.”
I perk a brow, slightly disappointed. “What’s in the bag?”
“Stand up, Miss Jones,” Damon commands. “And bend over the desk.”
“You gonna fuck me into submission?” I ask, batting my lashes. “Sounds like a challenge. I accept.”
Damon’s expression remains flat, and a tiny ripple of fear blasts through me. “Right now, Miss Jones.”
“We’re not in the club,” I whisper, throat dry and wanting. “I don’t have to listen to you.”
“No, we’re not,” he states. “But if you don’t do as I say, I promise you, the next time we’re in The Playroom, you’re going to wish you did.” He cocks his head. “Well? What will it be? What’s in this bag? Or what’s in that room?”
I swallow. The bag’s too small to fit anything that could actually hurt me. Too small for a whip, a crop, a paddle. It’s a gamble. An exciting roll of the dice. My gaze flits to the closed door. This office isn’t soundproof. There are hordes of employees on the other side of the glass. He wouldn’t want me to scream and draw attention. I’ll take my chances.
“Fine, but make it quick,” I say, checking the time as I round the desk. “We’ve got a town hall meeting in an hour.”
“Yes, we do,” Damon smirks, placing a hand on the small of my back as he pushes me flush against the desk. The cold glass soothes my skin as drags his handdown my thigh, his touch rough and aggressive as he hikes my dress up, slapping my ass before yanking my panties to the side. He arches over, and glides his hand between my thighs, whispering in my ear. “Spread your legs for me, mami.” He bites down on the shell of my ear, and I close my eyes, moaning and doing as he commands. “Good girl.” The anticipation kills me as he shuffles around the bag. “Open your mouth, Miss Jones.”
My eyes spring open. Damon dangles a two-inch long silver egg-shaped device in front of me. “What is that?” I breathe out as he massages my pussy with his free hand.
“Suck on it,” he says, coaxing it through my lips. “Get it all nice and wet, Miss Jones.” I roll my tongue over the device, coating it with my spit, the metal warming from the heat of my mouth. “That’s good.” Damon pops it out of my mouth. “Just relax, Emery, this shouldn’t hurt.”
“No?” I ask, squirming against his fingers as he teases my hole. “I thought this was supposed to be a—” I gasp, spine arching as he slides the device inside of me, the pressure surprisingly pleasant. “Oh, God…” The slight vibrations cause my thighs to clench shut. “What is—” The sensation stops. Damon moves my panties back into place and adjusts my dress. I stand up, flushed. “What is that?”
Damon cocks his head, holding his phone in his hand, his thumb hovering over a dial on the screen. “It’s a remote-controlled vibrator.” He turns the dial, and my knees buckle, my core zapping with rapid andintense spikes of vibrations. “Woah.” Damon loops his arm around my waist. “Careful, Miss Jones. You have a presentation in five minutes.”
“Five?” Dread captures my features. “No…” I shake my head fervently, reaching down to remove the damn thing. “I can’t—” I buck over, held up only by the support of Damon’s arms as he turns up the intensity. “Damon.”
“I moved up the meeting,” Damon says, lowering the vibrations as he helps me upright. He casts me a knowing grin. “After you, Miss Jones.”
