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“Why not,” I mutter.
“Solution one, you crawl under my desk on your hands and knees and swallow my cock while I fuck your face until I come down your pretty throat.”
Holy. Fucking. GOD.
“Or, solution two, you get out of my office, go find yourself a screwdriver somewhere, and solve the fucking problem yourself.”
He pushes his chair back from his desk and glances down at his crotch pensively before flashing me a malicious grin.
“Decisions, decisions.”
I purse my lips, my face throbbing. “I’ll be back.”
Forty-five minutes later, after trying to track down the nearest hardware store, which in midtown is about as easy as finding a taxi during rush hour, I’m back in the office with the new tool kit I just bought.
I ignore Deimos when he holds up his wrist and taps his gleaming watch like an asshole. Then I get to work.
Two hours—two fucking hours—later, I have exactly one chair and half of a desk assembled. I’m also sweating like a pig, even after I’ve gotten rid of my heels and stripped off my jacket. My hair’s a mess and sticking to the sides of my face as I groan and try to stretch out the kink in my back.
My eyes lift to the massive pile of boxes looming over me, and I groan.
This is going to take me a fucking month.
Yes, and your mother would have quite literally killed someone for her biggest hardship to be merely assembling furniture.
Fuck. I can do this.
I power through. I lose my sweaty silk blouse, stripping down to my bra and camisole, and even roll my skirt up a little more to give my legs some air and better maneuverability. I’ve shoved my hair back in a messy ponytail. I finish my second desk and third chair.
It’s only then that I realize the sun is already low outside. I glance at my watch and blink.
It’sfour.
I could cry. It’s taken me all freaking day to assemble two dumb office desks and three lousy swivel chairs.
“Now, I know they say Rome wasn’t built in a day…”
On my knees, I grit my teeth as I turn to glare up at him. “What?” I hiss, shoving a stray lock of hair that’s escaped from the ponytail out of my face.
“…but do you expect to be done this fiscal year?”
My jaw clenches as I squint angrily at him. “I’m trying my best, okay?”
“If that’s your best, I wouldn’t brag about it.”
“You aresuchan asshole!”
He sighs and shakes his head. “As soon as I hire an HR person, I’m reporting that, you know.”
“Go ahead!” I snap back. “But I’m really trying, okay?!” I turn back to the fourth chair I’ve been working on and angrily start to twist a screw into the back pad, my wrist screaming in agony from being used so much today. The screwdriver slips, and I cry out when it stabs into a finger on my other hand.
“Fuck!” I hiss, jamming the finger in my mouth and sucking.
“Well, I’m happy to see you’re multitasking, at least.”
“What?” I grunt around the finger.
“Putting the furniture togetherandpracticing being on your knees…” He smiles demonically. “Sucking.”
