Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
You’ve been busy.
I already had the screenshots.
Clit Flicker Reels Material. 💦
“What?” I said, staring at that message
Margot huffed from the other side of the cubicle wall.
Spank bank isn’t appropriate.
And Clit Flicker Reel is?
I turned when I heard the squeak of Margot wheeling her chair around the cubicle.
“You tell me how this—” She pretended to spank her crotch. “Is more appropriate than this.” Then she made a flicking motion. “I mean, they call it flicking the bean, don’t they?”
The obnoxious beep of Vance’s alarm came from the other side of the cubicle. The man set his alarm for everything. He had one for lunch, one for meetings, and even one that went off when it was time to leave. Evidently, he also set reminders for dates with blackmail...
I peered over the top of the divider just as his mop of dark hair popped up. He was leaving. Early. The guy didn’t know how to just be on time for something. Not even extortion.
Margot glanced at me, then plucked her phone from her lap and furiously tapped the screen.
Big Cock is leaving the nest!!! 🍆 🦅
He’s going to get there before you…
I watched him disappear down the hall toward the restroom. “No, he’s not.” Then I grabbed my phone and purse and shot around the cubicles to the elevator.
On the way down, I told myself I was karma’s vessel, that the hairy bitch was working through me, although the anxious little Jiminy-Cricket knot kinking my stomach tried to say differently.
Frowning at my reflection in the elevator mirror, I shook my head. “Lunchbox Museum,” I whispered. “Lunchbox Museum or the The Moulin Rouge.” I shouldn’t have to commit a kinda-sorta crime to still to go to The Moulin Rouge because Vance’s bastard butt should have never tried to steal my Eat, Pray, Love assignment. But he had, and really, what choice did I have if I didn’t want to be the doormat to the man with a dick who had seen more world monuments than me?
Yeah, it was definitely karma…
When the elevator opened, I hurried through the brightly lit lobby, straight to the door, and outside into the sweltering heat. The hum of traffic and blast of horns swirled around me as I maneuvered through the crowded sidewalk to the Drip Drip Coffee Café. I reached for the door and froze.
What if I got caught?
What if Vance turned me in?
I mean, I couldn’t really expect luck to be on my side... The bell over the door tinkered when I stepped inside. One deep inhale of freshly brewed coffee and a little sanity crept in. Vance wouldn’t rat me out because then he’d have to admit he owned the My Dick Travels site, and work would not look fondly on dick pics taken on the company dime.
I went to the counter and ordered a coffee, imagining the anger that would flicker through his moss-green eyes when he realized it was me who had left that note. He would assuredly be livid, and his disdain for me would grow, but as long as Mr. Tall Dark Dick Choker gave in to my demands, I didn’t really care.
I took my coffee from the barista and sat at a tiny table in the back.
I’m at the office window. Big Cock is waiting at the crosswalk on the corner. Like a digital dick-slinging prostitute.
She had a way with words…
Even from here, you can tell he has a nice ass. Maybe he’ll do a spin-off website.
I’d pay to have a few clit flicker reels of those mighty ass cheeks. 🍑
I dragged a hand down my face, then took a sip of my coffee. God only knew what crap she would send next. Ding—It was a zoomed-in picture of Vance, or better yet, his ass, at the crosswalk. Even in dress slacks, I could tell the guy could probably pick up a pencil between those things. A punctual, grumpy gym rat with a flare for making ridiculous dick selfies feel like dirty porn. A conundrum, indeed.
He’s crossing the street.
At the door. Cock-a-doodle-doo is at the door!!!
Before I could look up from the table, another message came through.
Remember. Don’t back down. You have him by his Photoshopped balls.
I silenced my phone just as Vance stepped inside.
His unnerved gaze drifted around the shop, the muscles in his jaw ticcing when he homed in on something behind me. My heart rate picked up with a mixture of guilt-laden anxiety and excitement when he started across the café. The Eiffel Tower. Baguettes. Italian men and endless coffee. Even tittie tittie cwassant… It was all within my reach.
Closer and closer he came. He stopped beside my table—the bulge of Paul at my eye level.
When my gaze met his, his dark brows pinched together. “We need to talk about things. Well, a thing.” I jutted my chin toward his crotch.