As I enter the glass doors, I hear a sharp voice call out across the marble waiting area.
“Miss Marshall?” A severe woman in an eggplant suit stalks over to me in stilettos. She has far too much makeup on and one of those “I want to speak to your manager” hairstyles. I’m immediately intimidated.
“Yes?”
She gives me a perfunctory nod.
“I’m Karen, and I’m here to show you around on your first day. Follow me.” And with that, she spins on her heel and walks away, her mouth pursed like she’s just bitten into a lemon. Clearly, Karen doesn’t want to be doing this, and wishes I were dead. I instantly do not like her. She’s skinny and rude and reminds me far too much of my mother but what choice do I have?
Silently, I follow her through the labyrinth of Kombuchaid headquarters and end up completely lost by the time we arrive at my desk. It’s my own little gray corner of office hell, and I wonder if I’m being punished for something. There are probably shackles under the desk, come to think of it, although I force myself not to look.
“Um, thanks,” I mutter.
“Only the best for Brent’s daughter,” Karen says with an ugly twist to her mouth. “There’s nothing for you to do right now, but I’m sure you can occupy your time with your phone or something.”
I nod tightly.
“I’m happy to do whatever is needed, Karen. I can run copies or go get coffee if you like.”
Her sharp laugh is more like a bark. I turn to see if anyone heard, but there’s no one in the office yet.
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll find something to do. Just sit here, okay? That’s it. That’s the job.”
God, why is this woman such a bitch? I didn’t ask to be the boss’s daughter.
“Thanks,” I say tightly. “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Great,” she says coldly before disappearing down a hallway.
I’m pretty shocked at how openly hostile Karen is. I mean, who acts like that straight off the bat? Clearly, she’s got a chip on her shoulder from something or other.
But I don’t want to make a big deal of it because I don’t want everyone to think I’m that girl. There’s no sense in starting off the summer as the rich bitch who’s also the boss’s spoiled daughter. As a result, I decide to keep my head down. I get acquainted with my computer, clicking around on some random folders. There are no emails yet, which is good. Then, I read a bit of the company manual, but it’s exceedingly boring. So I do as Karen suggested: I pop out my phone and play around a bit. Candy Crush keeps me occupied for fifteen minutes, but then I get bored of that too. I try angling the phone for a selfie, but it’s too depressing. There’s too much gray between my suit and the cloth-covered walls. Tomorrow, I’m going to bring a few succulents to spice this place up because right now, it’s just too blah.
To my surprise, an hour passes and then two. No one comes around to say hi or introduce themselves either, so I decide to head to the bathroom. After relieving myself, there’s still nothing to do, so I decide to take myself on a tour of this place. I’ve been to Kombuchaid headquarters before, of course, but it was always with my dad and we pretty much just stuck to the reception area and his office. This time, I’ll show myself around a bit.
The building is huge, with several floors, and there aren’t any access codes or badges needed in the elevator, so I’m able to roam freely. Strange. I decide to start at the bottom, in the basement. But when I get down there, the elevator opens to what appears to be a construction site.
“Hello?” I call in a moderately loud voice. My voice seems to echo into the quiet.
Then, I step outside and begin to make my way around the construction. There’s plastic sheeting on some of the storage boxes to protect them from all the dust and grime, and the furniture is bound in saran wrap. There’s a ton of dust flying in the air, and I cough a bit, masking my nose and mouth. Damn. I swear the plaster’s getting in my air passages. Maybe I should just go back.
But then I see a women’s restroom and duck inside. Thank god. It appears relatively clean, without the layer of dust covering everything. I look at myself in the mirror, and see my tousled hair and rosy cheeks, not to mention the smart gray suit. Damn, why isn’t Gray here? I wish he could see me like this, when I’m wearing a professional outfit with an ID badge dangling from my waist. Would he laugh? Would he chuck me on the chin, and call me “sweetheart” again? I grow warm inside just at the thought.
God. Gray Jamison. Dammit, why do I keep having to think of him? I haven’t seen him in ages, but his image continues to haunt me even here, in the most inappropriate of places. He owns this building, for crying out loud! Well, at least he co-owns it with my dad.
But I want him too badly, and I can’t stop the urge. His hands on my skin…his cock in my mouth…Gray whispering my name in my ear. It’s too much, and the ache overpowers me.
Like a bad girl, I whip out my phone and google Gray’s picture. I quickly find one of him on vacation in Hawaii and I was right about his body. Damn. Tan, muscular, with a smirk that drives me wild. Unhesitating, I hitch my skirt up and then prop one leg up onto the counter, while holding my phone in my left hand while my right hand slides up my thigh and into my panties. I wish it were his hand, and not my own.
I keep thinking of what I would say if he spoke to me the way I long for him to. What would he say? Would he growl my name in my ear? Would he kiss my jaw before bending down to swipe his tongue across my clit?
I drop my phone on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror, panting. I want the view he would have of me. The feel of his mouth all over my pussy, with his fingers burrowing inside me. Him sucking on me there, forcing me to come again and again, until I can’t take it anymore, and then thrusting himself into me with that massive cock. It’s too much and I let out a high, keening cry as my body shudders and then explodes.
“FUCK!” I scream heartily, not caring who hears. I shatter on my fingertips and my pussy squeezes violently as I dream of Gray coming hard in my sweet passage. I pant, moan, and touch myself more, even as my body crests. I’m sweating now and ramped up higher, if that’s possible. But there’s no help for it. Gray’s not mine, and this is just a naughty fantasy, and nothing more.
To be continued …
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About the Author
Cassandra Dee is a bestselling author of dozens of hot and steamy contemporary romances. She started out writing erotica but transitioned to romance after falling for one too many book boyfriends.
When she’s not tapping away furiously at her laptop, Cassandra can be found drinking gallons of coffee and watching lots of reality TV. She also enjoys taking the neighbor’s dog for walks, aimlessly wandering the local grocery store, and of course, reading too much about the lives of her favorite celebrities.
Cassandra is living her own HEA with her husband and a beautiful baby boy.
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