Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
At the time, it was an excuse, but the more I’ve watched him, the more I’ve actually wondered if it might be fun.
And he remembered.
I didn’t think it was possible with the way I was feeling earlier, but this is officially the best birthday I’ve ever had.
All thanks to Beau Banks.
“Just make sure that Ned is the one who gets these edits, okay?” Denise requests as she sets a stack of thick cardboard slides that contain content tag lines for a popular soda company on my desk.
“Will do,” I tell her, standing up and stretching my legs. I don’t normally sit for more than five minutes at a time around here, but this morning has been an absolute email onslaught.
I smooth my hands down my wide-leg Prada gabardine pants, adjust the brown Hermès belt around my waist, and pick up the slides from my desk. They’re bulky but thankfully not heavy, and I’m only slightly awkward on my walk to the elevators without being able to see my feet.
It’s not like I normally stare at my shoes when I walk, but something about taking them out of sight completely makes me feel off-kilter.
Juggling slightly as I step on the elevator, I punch the button for the fifth floor until it lights up—it’s finicky sometimes—and wait as the doors close in front of me. I adjust the cardboard where it digs into my ribs and dance from side to side to pass the time. Now that I’m up and moving, my bladder is awake and screaming for a potty break after I drop these off to Ned.
The ride is quick from the fifteenth to the fifth, but just as I’m stepping off the cart, my phone vibrates inside my pocket.
I want to check it now, but a whole slapstick comedy routine of me and the slides and a split the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders would be jealous of plays in my mind at the thought of chancing maintaining my tenuous grip with one hand.
People smile at me as I power walk down the hall to Ned’s office, dropping the slides on his empty desk and peering around to see if he’s anywhere nearby. When I don’t find him—or anyone else, for that matter—I pull out my phone and use the sanctuary of his office to read it with privacy.
It’s a notification from Midnight, and since I have zero willpower, I open the app and go to the one and only chatbox I have attached to my profile.
But I’m completely unprepared for what’s inside.
ThunderStruck: I’m sitting in an important meeting right now, but I can’t stop thinking about what color your panties are today.
I bobble my phone in my hands and let out a gasp, startling even further when Ned’s polite voice greets me from the door.
“Oh hey, June. Didn’t know you were down here.”
I clear my throat twice before tucking my phone back into my pocket, even as it buzzes a second time, and dab at my now-fiery cheeks with cool hands. “Yeah. Yep. Just dropping off some slides from Denise. They’re for…” I shake my head, desperately trying to remember the account name instead of my white panties. “SoPop.” I snap my fingers, and Ned smiles.
“A long Monday already, huh?”
I chuckle, the sound a little brittle around the edges. “Yeah. I guess it’s that time of year. Fourth quarter and all.”
Ned nods. “Yep. Everything needs buttoning up. Did Denise say when she needs these back?”
“No.” I frown over my lack of knowledge. “Do you want me to run up there and ask?”
He shakes his head. “That’s all right. I’ll call.”
“Okay!” I rush through the door as he steps to the side, dismissing myself with a wave over my shoulder and bolting for the elevator. When the doors close me into solitude, I pull out my phone with shaky hands and read the remaining Midnight message.
ThunderStruck: I want to tease you. Make you feel what you’re making me feel by making me want you so bad but not telling me who you are. I want to put my mouth right there, right on your perfect pussy, but I’d make you keep your panties on so all you can feel is the warmth of my breath. And I’d keep my mouth there until you are soaked all the way through.
Holy hell, is it just me, or is it hot in here? Maintenance should look into this elevator being one million degrees.
I should be ashamed of myself for the faint throb that’s made itself known between my legs, but I’m not. I’ve dreamed of Beau saying these things to me for much longer than I’d like to admit, and I deserve to revel in the excitement of it actually happening…right?
Maybe I should make that trip to the bathroom, but instead of dealing with my bladder, I should hide in the stall and take an actual picture of my pussy and send it to him.