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I’m already hard, the shaft throbbing in my grip. My thumb circles the head, spreading a bead of moisture, and the sheets are too hot, too stifling as I toss them down to my knees, committed to this now. I’ll hate myself for it later.
It takes a few harsh pumps, that’s all. Teeth gritted, head thrown back, thinking ofher.
These days, I’m always thinking of her. No wonder I’m falling behind.
But in my fevered brain, Georgina is on her knees, tucked beneath my desk, her golden head bobbing in my lap—or, no,I’munder there and she’s sprawled in my chair with that sharp little smile, her dress rucked up her thighs and legs spread. That blush spreads over her cheeks, and she tugs on my hair as my teeth scrape over her panties—
“Fuck.” I come hard, hissing through my teeth, body curling up like I’ve been punched in the gut. It feels that way too, with the ache throbbing through my insides. I’m one big bruise.
The dark room spins as I come, and come, and come.
Finally I flop back, chest heaving.
Lord. Fumbling on my nightstand for a Kleenex, my cheeks are hot. If I’m exhausted tomorrow, this is why: because I spent my precious moments in bed jerking off like a teenager who’s seen his first breast.
But I can’t regret it, not as sleep finally clouds my tired brain, and not as my flushed skin cools. Her gleaming blue eyes are my last thought before I slip away.
Georgina.
Five
Georgie
It’s happening. I’m torturing the man who ruined my dad’s career; the man who stole his purpose away and left him in that threadbare janitor’s jumpsuit.
Levi Laurent is my arch nemesis, the source of all evil in my world, and I’m enjoying this. Iam.
Gusting out a heavy sigh, I flick a paperclip. For once, Mr Laurent is not here yet, and I’m eager to make him miserable.
That’s what this weird longing is. I’m sure of it.
Inside that office, the boss’s desk is huge and clean and obsessively orderly. Everything is in its proper place, and when he spreads papers out on his desk, he keeps them perfectly parallel to the desk’s edge.
I’ve taken great care to make my own desk as chaotic as possible. There’s a Venus flytrap in a bright pink pot; a smattering of colored sharpies; a squeaky stress ball in the shape of the little green one from Monsters Inc. Post-its curl against my computer monitor, and I’ve made tiny heaps of jumbled paperclips.
My jacket dangles off the back of my chair, one sleeve brushing against the floor. It’s a mess. It’s beautiful.
This morning as he strides through the entrance from the stairwell, Mr Laurent glances at my desk and grimaces, like clockwork.
Works like a charm. This man is very easy to torment. Almost too easy, but I can’t let myself think like that.
If I admit that he’s human… that there are sides to him that I like…
Well. Vengeance is paramount.
Besides, he’s not even breathless after climbing all those stairs, and that is obnoxious. A man like thatshouldsuffer.
The elevator is fine, by the way. And yes, this way I have to climb all those stairs too, but I’m choosing to see it as a fun workout. There’s no rat on the third floor, either. The coffee maker works, and the fire alarm going off at all hours is not random. I. Am. Devious.
But it’s still not enough—especially after yesterday.
The likes of you.What a jerk.
“About last night.” Did he read it on my face? Mr Laurent steps up to my desk, ignoring the colorful mess with heroic effort. He pins me with those stern green eyes, and I swallow hard, because that white shirt is working hard to contain those shoulders. “I was rude to you. Forgive me.”
The laugh blurts out of me. I stare up at my boss, his wavy hair rumpled by the breeze outside. Did he walk here? I bet if I sniffed his throat, he’d smell fresh.
“It doesn’t work like that, Mr Laurent. You can’t just order someone to forgive you.”
