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I picked up the phone. “Nolan Harding, Breisinger Insurance,”
“Where the fuck have you been?” Dawson snapped on the other end, immediately throwing me a curveball.
I mean, I had a feeling it was him who called, but there was no way to be sure.
I pulled up my email, noting he’d already sent me two emails today, and I wasn’t even halfway through my shift.
What’s up his ass today?
“Doing my job, Mr. Richards. Something you clearly don’t understand.”
“Don’t get cute with me, Mr. Harding.”
Why his bite and the way he said my name made me blush, I didn’t know, but I was thankful that I was alone, in my office, away from prying eyes.
Which also meant no one else could hear me.
“If I wanted to get cute with you, Dawson, I wouldn’t be vague about it. Lord knows you need everything spelled out for you.”
“Fuck you, Nolan.”
“I see we’re past pleasantries now. Is there a reason for your call, or did you just want to hear my cute voice?” I said.
What the fuck?
Where did that come from?
There was a pause, the only sound Dawson’s breathing on the other end, which strangely caused my cock to twitch. I adjusted myself in my pants, letting out a frustrated sigh.
What was his deal?
Before I could tell him I didn’t have time to deal with his bullshit because I had a thousand emails to answer and claims to investigate, he spoke.
“I submitted a claim for Jonathan Bradish two days ago and no one’s even been out to the guy’s house yet to check anything.”
What?
Since when did Dawson keep tabs on my job?
Naturally, the shift in conversation made me defensive. Contrary to Dawson’s belief that I did nothing but sit around on my ass and jack off all day, I had a laundry list of claims to investigate as well as a boatload of administrative tasks and meetings seeing as I was practically one promotion away from becoming the manager of this damn branch.
“I’m aware of my own case load, Dawson. I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”
“Then do your fucking job, Nolan. Or I’ll do it for you,” he said gruffly, his tone all commanding and... hot.
Fuck, why does he sound so hot when he’s pissed off?
My cock agreed as it twitched in my pants again. I crossed my legs only to apply pressure, because I did not have time in my schedule to take care of an inappropriate erection.
And the object of my fantasies chastising me like a bad child, is definitely not helping matters.
I pulled up my case file for Jonathan Bradish, noting that the property wasn’t all that far from the office. Glancing at the clock, I knew I’d have to go to lunch soon, but maybe, just maybe I’d be able to squeeze in a trip.
I knew I should have been honest, professional, and that I should have just told Dawson I’d take care of it.
But a part of me liked hearing him all worked up, liked pushing his buttons... and my cock certainly liked it.
Liked him.
