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A part of me acknowledges that I should reach out to HR, but I don’t want a middle-man to step in—this is between Mr. Ettin and me alone.
With this in mind, I march up the stairs to his office.
Every step brings me closer to unleashing the fury boiling in my veins.
I won’t be undervalued by him or anyone.
Pausing but a nanosecond outside of the polished mahogany door to Mr. Ettin’s office, it doesn’t occur to me to knock.
In truth, I’m too far gone in my own wrath to remember how to be civil.
Unknowing to my boss, he opened old wounds I thought long buried and put to rest.
Foolish of me.
The hurts of the past never go away if not properly addressed, and goodness knows I never did anything of the sort.
Now I realize they’ve festered silently, growing into something rabid and wild. I’m losing control of myself, but I can’t stop.
I tell myself that I’m the victim, and in my self-righteous indignation, barge through the closed door.
Luckily, Mr. Ettin is alone.
Unluckily, he appears to be very busy.
“Wyn!” he groans in a guttural voice.
My gaze takes in the way his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths before drifting down to where his hand flies over the length of his exposed cock.
Ropes of thick, bright blue cum arc from the tip, splashing all over his desk and lap.
The entire time, his vibrant magenta stare never leaves mine.
The two of us are locked in this moment, neither of us able to look away.
Arousal sweeps through me, slow and insidious.
Did Mr. Ettin call my name because I walked in or because he was thinking of me?
Suddenly, the room is too hot—everything is too hot.
My boss stammers out what could be an apology, but I don’t hear him.
I should leave and pretend none of this happened, for both our sakes.
Return to my office where I can drown myself in work until the memory of Mr. Ettin’s cock fades from my mind.
But my body betrays me, refusing to move as my gaze traces the contours of my boss’s obvious arousal.
Mesmerized, I lick my lips while my stomach clenches in desire.
My blood sizzles with awareness, and my nipples tighten as I struggle to contain my whimper of need.
Too easily, I can imagine Mr. Ettin touching me, caressing my breasts while I sink to my knees to tease his cock—to taste his cum.
“Shit, Wyn, I…”
I jerk my gaze away from his crotch to Mr. Ettin’s remorseful expression.
