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And if I want to read the filthy things she’s messaging, I’ll damn well do as I please.
I’ll have to scold her when I see her. Not now, while she’s working, when I’m not buried deep inside her and she has nowhere to go.
Scrolling through the last messages she sent, I have to readjust in my seat.
Suzette Parks has a very dirty mouth and I want to do very dirty things to it.
It’s work hours, though, so I don’t respond to the three she’s sent me.
This morning was one thing, and technically I started the “sexting games” as she called it.
No panties today. I want to fuck you without having to rip them off.
Yes, sir.
That’s my good girl.
You say that now but if you tell me to crawl under your desk, that will be a firm no from me.
Why do I think you’re lying?
I remember when I sent the last message, I watched both the clock and the security monitors that kept track of her entering the elevator. It was nearly 9:00 a.m.
Tell me what you would do then, if I wanted you to keep me company in my office.
Did I set her up? Fucking right I did. Am I going to fuck her hard and rough to punish her for the unprofessional behavior she’s displayed? Hell yes I am. And we’re both going to enjoy it.
It’s all talk from her. I know it is. So, scolding her will have to wait.
“I don’t know, man,” Wyatt says, nudging the container of lo mein closer to me. Piling the bit of it left on his plate onto a white plastic fork he tells me, “I prefer the place on Fifth.”
“Shing Kwong?”
He nods, still shoveling the Chinese food into his mouth. Wyatt is tall, lean, and three years younger than me although it feels like there’s a decade between us. He’s naive, positive about far too much and riskier than he should be.
I didn’t come from money. We were slightly well-off, but not like the Pattons, Wyatt’s family. It shows. He makes deals like there will always be a safety net beneath him. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t resentful of it at one time in my life. As the end of a noodle slaps his chin, sauce dripping down his amber skin, the corners of my lips turn up.
Wyatt is a puppy dog in the elite groups I run in, but he’s damn loyal.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’re welcome to bring your own takeout next time you decide to swing by then, rather than having Andrea order it.”
“So I’ll have that contract for you in just a little bit.”
My brow arches at the very sudden change in topics. “I knew you’d bring it up.”
He smirks, not looking back at me, and says, “I can’t help it; I’m excited.”
“I haven’t said I’ll sign, and I’m still waiting on my lawyer to look over the clauses.”
“It’s been a year in the making,” he comments, finally putting down his plate.
“I’m not sure it’s the right time right now.”
It’s silent for a moment and Wyatt finally looks up at me, running his hand over his curly, jet-black hair. It’s cropped close to his scalp with a slight fade on the sides. “’Cause of this,” he says and motions behind him with his thumb.
Because of the eight-figure company I just bought? Yes. That would be why. Although I’d never admit it out loud. My funds aren’t typically tied up in so many holdings. The timing was right for Holt & Hanover, though. He was desperate and I had the last bit of cash flow I could manage.