Filed to story: Swallow Me Whole (Sadie & Ashton) Book Free
And I’ve still got a hard-on to deal with. I push to my feet and make my way to the private bathroom off the office. Once inside, I lock the door and cross to the toilet. I’ve got my pants unbuttoned and unzipped in seconds, and I’m leaning over the porcelain bowl, one hand pumping my cock as images of Jules play through my head.
My perverted mind has her bent over my desk, legs spread, her palms flat on the surface as I wind her golden locks around my fist. With every desperate stroke of my hand, I imagine thrusting into the hot, wet glove of her body. And her voice? Jesus, her seductive voice is begging for more.
Harder, Cash.
In this fantasy that’s way too vivid, I bury myself to the hilt, my fingers gouging her hips, teeth scraping over the slope of her shoulder. The scene plays out in my head like a porno as I let the pressure bust me wide open. I groan, loud and unrestrained, as I spurt cum into the toilet water.
I’m so fucked, and I definitely shouldn’t have hired her. But not hiring her was about as possible as not thinking about her.
Every time the skies open and rain beats down on me.
Every time I grab a coffee and overhear someone order tea.
Every time a damn plane sounds overhead.
A quiet knock intrudes on this private and forbidden moment. I tilt my head toward the locked door, ragged breaths rushing from my mouth as I prop myself against the wall.
“Cash? Are you in there?” Monica never bangs on a door, or outright yells, or cries out when she comes. Not that she’s come for me in months.
“I’ll be right out.” I clean myself up then put my clothes back in order.
I bet Jules would cry my name. I have no doubt she’d writhe in my arms. Moan her pleasure into my mouth. Let me fuck her while holding her captive in my gaze. Forehead to forehead with the lights on. Eyes locked together in surrender, spilling all our secrets. Fingers grasping, clawing, then lacing together as we hold on for the ride. The feminine curve of her spine speaking the language of ecstasy.
I switch on the faucet, and the rushing sound of water brings me back to reality. Monica is tapping on the door again, her soft voice calling my name. After I finish washing my hands, I open the door. Those blue eyes used to seduce me with a single glance. Now they spit nothing but cold-hearted rejection.
“What is it?” I ask as I push past her. I take a seat behind my desk, sparing her an annoyed glance. “As you can see, I’ve got work to do.”
“Before you make your decision on a PA, I wanted to give my recommendation for Lydia Hirsch. She mentioned the interview went well. She’s highly qualified, Cash.”
Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes. “Is she a friend of yours?”
She works her jaw, hesitating. “Yes, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t put our personal issues before business decisions. She’s a solid choice and deserves a chance.”
“Ms. Hirsch is certainly qualified, but she’s not a good fit for me. Besides,” I say, waving my hand. “I already filled the position.”
“That was fast. Who did you hire?”
“Does it matter?”
“Per the terms of the merger, you’re required to consult me on anything business-related.”
“Hiring a personal assistant hardly falls under that condition.” I sit back and cross my arms. “You want a rundown of the financial statements for last quarter? Details about the Oklahoma City project? I’ll have my new assistant send you those particulars, along with anything else you require.”
Her brows knit together. “You might be CEO, but I’m chairperson. This is a partnership.”
“Like our marriage is?”
Her silence speaks volumes.
“We’re sleeping in separate bedrooms, Monica. How about we do the same here at work? You can see yourself out of my office now.”
“You can be a real asshole sometimes.”
“Do you really want me to respond to that?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“Don’t bother.” She pivots on her heel and exits my office, letting the door shut with a bang. That’s the angriest I’ve seen her in a while.
I stare at the closed door for a few moments, the wheels in my head turning. During the past few months, I’ve slowly come to the realization that Monica never does anything without a reason, and if she wanted her friend working directly under me, there must be a reason why. I pull out my cell and dial my private investigator.
He answers on the fourth ring, and I get right to the point. “It’s Cash Montgomery. Have you found anything yet?” I ask, tapping my fingers on the desk.
“Not yet. The sender’s email address was a bust. Whoever sent the photo doubled up with a VPN and a proxy server. My tech guy’s still working on it, though.”
“And the photo?”
“Same. Got an expert analysis taking a closer look.”
“I don’t know if this is important, but Monica wanted me to hire someone she knows as my PA. She was very insistent, and furious when I told her I already filled the position.”
“You got a name for me?”
“Lydia Hirsch.” I spell it out for him. “Maybe there’s something there.”
“I’m on it.”
“Let me know when you’ve got something.”
I end the call and rise to stand in front of the windows. The sidewalks are busy, the streets busier. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, but I feel one hovering over my life. As I watch a ferry make its way across Elliot Bay, I think of how there’s someone out there who wanted me to know about Monica’s affair. Someone who captured her betrayal in a photo but left behind no evidence in our condo. My instincts tell me the digital footprint of that email will lead back to the asshole who’s fucking my wife.
10. Double Trouble
Jules
Cash put me to work after I returned from HR. He gave me a quick tour of the thirty-eighth floor before showing me the office I’d be working in for the foreseeable future…assuming my employment here works out.
That was four days ago, and so far, I’ve managed to do my job without tripping all over myself. My workspace is the next room over from his corner office, and knowing he’s on the other side of that wall has been more distracting than is good for productivity.
Thank God it’s Friday. A little distance is exactly what I need to get ahold of myself after this whirlwind week. Once I’m finished handling his schedule, fielding phone calls, and running errands, I spend the remainder of the day sorting emails and coordinating travel plans. The fact that he’s going to Oklahoma City soon squeezes my heart a little—it’s an unwanted reminder of the heartbreak I left behind in Whiskey Flats.
The end of the day arrives quicker than I expect it to, and I’m heading toward the door to Cash’s office when I spot him exiting the elevator. The sight of him is still a shock to my system, and I let my attention fall to the file in my hands.
“I compiled the info you wanted,” I say, holding out the folder. “Is there anything else you want me to do before I go?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, and that prompts me to raise my eyes to his. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was silently laughing at me.
“I’m sure I can come up with a few ideas,” he says, his teasing tone throwing me off.
“Um…okay. I can stick around if you need…” I trail off, taking in his black T-shirt. “You changed your clothes.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. Cheeks flaming, I shoot a surreptitious glance around us, thankful that most people have already gone home, no doubt eager to begin the weekend.