Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
“Enlighten me Doe, what do men not have a clue about?” I’m abruptly startled, lost in my own world, Sylvester plaguing every thought in my mind. And what did he call me?
“Shit!” The cuss word slips out as coffee arcs up and out of the mugs. It happens in slow motion, or maybe that’s my imagination. I attempt to hold on to the ceramic cups with Sterling & Associates emblazoned on them, hoping they don’t shatter on the ground and causing a bigger mess than my hands, arms, and chest being splattered with black and beige liquid, scalding me entirely.
“Damn it. Fawn, drop the mugs. You’re burning yourself worse.” Sylvester doesn’t wait for me to do what he said and instead takes matters in his own hands. Uncaring about anything, he takes the mugs and tosses them into the small sink. The loud clink jars me out of my stupor. The stinging of the burn on my hands and chest slowly sinks in.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. Let me clean this mess up, then I’ll remake your coffee and take care of this.” Redness is dotting my skin, which is rapidly rising, especially on my right side without the creamer calming the temperature.
“Sly or Sylvester. None of this Mr. Sterling shit. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” His hand glides to my lower back as he softly guided me through the doorway, not stopping until we’re quickly walking by the couch he keeps in the corner of his domain.
“Okay.” My eyes stay laser-focused on the bathroom that is attached to his office, complete with a sink, toilet, and shower.
“Off. Take your top off, Doe,” he says, flipping the switch to the on position. The light blinds me temporarily. His deft fingers are already at the buttons between my breasts, the back of his hands grazing the skin along the way. His breathing is heavy. My own matches his. The unknown is a scary freaking thing. All along he’s been aloof, standoffish, almost avoiding me. Now Sylvester is calling me Doe and undressing me,
“Why do you keep calling me Doe? And I can do this on my own.” I wince as I look down between us. My chest matches my hands and lower arms—the skin is bright red, and a few places are bubbling up, mainly on one wrist, meaning I’ll be left with some kind of scab and scarring.
“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get this off, clean the area, and put ointment on before the burn gets worse.” He sounds annoyed. At me? The situation? It’s anyone’s guess, honestly. Unsure of what to do next, since he’s taken over, I stand there like a deer caught in headlights, much like the name Sly has given me.
TWO
Sly
Fawn may not see the emotions swirling through my body, but they’re there—worry, anger, and then there’s desire. I’m the reason she’s burnt, standing in front of me in a white silk blouse reminiscent of the one she wore the first day she started, completely unbuttoned, loosely open at her sides, the white lace bra doing nothing to hide the fact that my presence arouses her. I can smell her heat. The air swirling around us is sweet and sultry. My tongue slides along my lips, her eyes watching me the entire time.
“Stay put.” I lift her up. Her hands go to my shoulders, skirt sliding up to show more skin than I’m used to seeing from her. There is no getting her out of my system. The very thought of calling someone else to scratch an itch is thrown out the window; my cock would instantly deflate at the thought. The only way it’d come back to life is with my hand wrapped around my length, fucking my fist to the many ways I’d eventually take her. Including the scenario before me, minus the fact I’ve got to clean and treat her wounds.
“If you show me where everything is, I’ll take care of it myself,” she tries again.
“No, I’ll take care of you.” Fawn must see the look on my face because she no longer offers to do this on her own. I grab a washcloth out of the drawer to the right of her. My palm settles on her knee, thumb sliding along the inner side of her skin while I turn the water on to get the cloth wet, wringing it out with one hand. “Hold still. This may sting.” My hand slides from her knee to her waist, lingering there as I wash away the coffee and creamer, kicking myself in the ass for wanting to know what she was complaining about. Her body trembles with each drag of the washcloth along her chest and stomach. A hiss leaves my body when I give her another once-over, making sure she’s completely clean while also enjoying the view of the century. Her tits move up and down with each deep breath, the lace doing nothing to conceal the way her nipples respond to me taking care of her. Dark raspberry color, and damn if I’m not tempted to slide the cups down, using her own bra as a shelf to offer up the beauty of my Doe.