The words on the screen course down my spine like a slow drip of lava, and my cock is more than ready for round two. It might actually be the sad face emoji that does me in. The tiny little frown on my screen that makes me want to say fuck it and drive over to her pool house right now so I can force her to her knees, slide my cock between those perfect, wide-set lips, and make her beg me to fuck her. I quickly type out my response before I can overthink it, choosing to ignore the last message she sent altogether.
You made me very proud today.
And you are more than enough.
You are perfect.
The throbbing organ in my chest swells as I hit Send. This is more than arousal. More than wanting to fuck her or hear her call me Sir. If I were twenty years younger, she’s exactly the kind of girl I’d want. Why Beau let her get away, I have no clue. But I’m finding myself more and more addicted to this girl with each passing day.
And when my phone chimes again with another text, I’m almost too afraid to read it because I’m pretty sure I already know what it’s going to say.
Thank you, Sir.
God, I’m so fucked.
RULE #18: WEAR A REMOTE-CONTROLLED VIBRATOR AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Charlotte
It’s a no-fun day. Which is what I’ve come to call the days that I have to be just Charlotte and he’s Emerson, not Sir. There’s no good girls. No yes, Sirs. Just a regular secretary. Blah.
We do it every other day, and I find myself more and more disappointed on days like this.
Luckily, we’re at the club today. Emerson has a meeting with some sex toy suppliers to stock the store, so I guess I really can’t complain about today, after all. When we arrive at the club, I follow him to the right where everyone is gathered—Garrett, Maggie, Hunter, and even the construction worker, Drake, who’s no longer in his dusty clothes and hard hat but dressed nicely in a pair of tight jeans and V-cut T-shirt, showing off a patch of dark chest hair. My gaze lingers on him for a moment, and he catches me staring, sending me a wink that makes me blush and look away.
My eyes trail to Emerson, who is watching me too, but he doesn’t look as happy as Drake. In fact, he’s glaring at me with a furrowed brow. Shit…what is that look for? What did I do wrong?
Before I can ask, a woman I don’t recognize walks in through the front door. She is a tall redhead dressed all in black and carrying a black tote bag. There is a belted harness over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist. I find myself staring at it. It looks more like a fashion statement than something she utilizes, and I love the way it looks on her. Powerful and dominant and sexy. With a bright smile on her face, she introduces herself to everyone.
Then as her gaze falls on Emerson’s face, she pauses. “Hello, Emerson,” she says with a bright, flirty smile. Instantly, the hairs on my neck rise in alarm.
“Monica,” he replies, biting back his own smile. “How are you?”
They clearly know each other.
“I’m great. You?”
“Good, thanks. Running your own business now?”
“Yes,” she says, clutching her bag tighter. “And business is great.”
“I’m proud of you,” he replies, and the fake smile I was trying to hold fades into a frown. Hearing him praise someone else has me wanting to scream.
“Is this your new secretary?” she asks, glancing at me.
“Yes. This is Charlotte. Charlotte, please greet Monica Taylor. An old employee of mine.”
My eyes snap in his direction, but he doesn’t give me any signs. Just a blank expression. As her eyes cascade over my body, sizing me up, I shift uncomfortably on my feet.
“Lovely to meet you, Charlotte.”
He nods his head subtly as if to remind me of my order. He told me to greet her. Ordered me to. He doesn’t do that unless it’s a…Dom/sub day. Is he trying to show me off? Because he wants her to see how good his new secretary is?
Well, too bad, because I’m already feeling stubborn.
I don’t want to meet his old secretary. Especially not as my imagination sends me images of her on her knees for him. His praise in her ears instead of mine.
Suddenly, I realize I’m replaceable. The truth hits me like a train, and it’s excruciating, nearly knocking me off my feet. I mean, I’m not stupid. I know he had other girls before me, but I don’t want to fucking meet them. The cruel reminder that she probably got to sleep with him and I don’t stings too. And I hate the way he ordered me to greet her, even when he and I both know today is not one of those days. I’m not going to play the part for her.
So, I grit my teeth, throw her a fake as hell smile and say, “Hey.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his face fall. His jaw ticks as he glares at me. It feels like standing under a freezing cold rain, his disappointment laser-focused on me. Monica’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything as she greets the rest of the group.
I refuse to look back at Emerson, out of both obstinance and fear.
Monica displays everything she brought on the glass case and gets started on her presentation. She’s brought an array of toys, things customers could use here at the club. Dildos, vibrators, handcuffs, creams, lotions, lube. You name it, she brought it. And I want to pay attention, but I can’t make my mind focus on anything but Emerson’s frustration with me, so much so that it trumps my frustration with him.
And it doesn’t help that Monica’s attention is almost entirely on Emerson. Once she’s done, Maggie offers to give Monica a tour of the facility, and I’m momentarily relieved that we’re about to be rid of this bitch who just ambushed my perfectly good day.
Then, she turns with a beaming smile at the man next to me and says, “Emerson, I’d love a tour from you.” My skin buzzes with fiery hot hatred as I watch her touch his arm. I despise this woman so much I could hit her. I quickly take a step to follow him, but he turns my way, clutching onto my arm and whispering in a dark, low tone, “Stay here.”
My mouth falls open. Is he serious?
What is he going to do with her? Take her to one of the private rooms and…
“Fine,” I mutter, turning away. If he thinks he’s going to get a Yes, Sir out of me now, he’s crazy.
As I watch them walk away, tears sting my eyes, and I start to wear circles on the floor from my pacing, trying to convince myself not to be as mad as I feel right now.
What do I care? He’s not my boyfriend. We have no claim on each other, and he’s certainly never going to touch me like that, so I should really just get over this hang-up. It’s dumb. A stupid crush, but I’ll never be more than his, sometimes, kinky secretary.
Lingering near the side of the great room, I keep my distance from Drake and Hunter, who are the only two left looking at the display of toys Monica left behind. They’re talking quietly together, but I don’t listen in. I’m too busy stewing about Emerson alone with Monica somewhere in the empty club.
After a few minutes, I hear my name being called.
“Charlie, come here.”
When I look up, Drake is smiling at me, waving me toward them. Unlike Emerson, he actually calls me by my preferred name. When I approach them, still feeling a little grumpy, he touches my arm.
“Help Hunter make a choice here.”
Hunter immediately shakes his head. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t want to help me.” Unlike Drake, Hunter is a little more reserved and will barely even look me in the eye. He’s the only one of the group who is married, and his wife is a drop-dead gorgeous yoga studio owner, so I can’t say I really blame him. I wouldn’t jeopardize that either.
“What’s up?” I ask.
Drake leans forward. “That lady said these were for us to try…”
He’s holding up a U-shaped device. It’s bright pink silicone, and my eyebrows lift as I stare at him. “Well, go ahead, Drake. Give it a try.”