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I whipped around to see Mr. Stevens standing there, his sexy lips twisted into a half-smile as he leaned against Mr. Parker’s open office door.
Holy shit. I was really in trouble now.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Stevens, there’s plenty here for both of us,” Mr. Parker said, cupping one of my breasts.
I knew I should push him away. I knew I should run off as fast as I could. But I couldn’t. Because I didn’t want to.
Mr. Stevens got closer. A lot closer. “Well, Mr. Parker, I’m more of an ass man myself, and Kait here has been leaving me tossing and turning at night thinking about hers.”
I was suddenly sandwiched between two sexy men, one squeezing and pressing against my ass while the other kneaded my breasts, his knee pressing between my knees to open up my thighs… and my wet, aching—
Thunk.
What the—
I sat up with a start, surprised by a rustle of papers, followed by anotherthunk. A squeak of wheels followed, and I realized it was the janitor coming around to get the wastebaskets. Glancing at my computer, I blinked hard, cursing myself.
Eleven forty-three pm… coming up on midnight.
Shit.I’d been dozing at my desk, and still hadn’t clocked out.
I gathered the mess of papers on my desk into a neat pile, stuffed them into a file folder, and grabbed my purse to get the hell out of there.
My dream had me seriously shaken.
Tomorrow I’d send an e-mail to HR, tell them I forgot to clock out, and that I left at seven-thirty. But wait. That was before I’d talked to Mr. Stevens. That story would never work. Plus, didn’t they have security cameras all over the place?
And now, as I hustled for the elevator, I realized my little dream had left me trembling in my sodden panties.
I ran to my car and locked the door behind me before I started the quick drive home.
There was no way I was going to sleep without at least a double dose of vibrator fun. And I still had to be up by seven-thirty in the morning.
It made Mr. Stevens’s comment about ten cups of coffee seem not all that ridiculous.
* * *
5
Late Nights
It had only beenfour days, but I was still not much more than a brand-new recruit going through boot camp, learning new shit and trying not to collapse under the weight of the workload. Each morning when I arrived at my desk there would be an entire inbox, both electronic and physical, of notes, papers, and more that needed to be looked up and filed, transcribed, scanned, or all of the above. And the pace didn’t let up. Ever.
But the other clerks in the ‘associate pool’ seemed to handle the workload just fine. They were able to laugh and joke, taking breaks to swap stories or just have a word with coworker friends. I barely had time to pee.
Every second I was concerned someone would come by and see the pile of incomplete work on my desk, and tell me I needed to pack my shit and go. And that, despite Dimitri’s pulling strings for me, I wasn’t good enough to stay at ATZ.
No, this firm was exclusively for ultra-hot, ultra-capable people. A club I clearly was not a member of.
And seeing Mr. Parker and Mr. Stevens around didn’t help. It was never more than a glance, or a smile and a word when I had to drop things off, but even those brief interactions would leave my hormones raging and my mind distracted for far too long.
At one point, I even slipped off to the ladies’ room for a little ‘relief’ after dropping off a file at Mr. Parker’s office, when I found him in his undershirt, changing before heading out to a deposition. His powerful shoulders and the rippling muscles on the backs of his arms were just too much to take. Damn him.
Thursday night was like all the others with the sun long since set, and me being the only loser left on my floor. I was in the file room, where I spent at least half my time, trying to pull the last three things I needed to get done when I stumbled. Unfortunately, this time there was a little snap from my shoe, and I looked down to see the heel having broken right off. That’s right. My only pair of heels, now destroyed. And as it was, I was living off ramen noodles until my first paycheck, which still wouldn’t come for another week. How in the fuck was I going to get another pair of work shoes?
It was all too much. I wanted to cry, but nothing came. I was like a well gone dry. Used up, dead, no longer of any use to anyone. Flat out drained.
I set the box I’d been angling for down on the file room’s work table, and sat with it like it was my only friend in the world. With a big sigh, I lay my head on my forearms, extending the sore leg I’d gotten from where my ankle had turned when my heel gave way.
