Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Closing time rolls around. The guests trickle out, the guys lingering at the bar getting out last. I wipe down the tables, sweep the floor, empty the trash and recycling, and on my way back in from the dumpster, I pause in the small hallway that leads past the kitchen and the bathrooms. The office door is open a crack, and it’s empty. Ethan should be at the bar, closing out the register, while I spotted Rachel sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette and cursing at someone on her phone.
I have more work to do. I need to check condiments, put up the chairs, check the front station, polish and roll silverware, and about fifty other things before we’re done. I should forget this and walk away.
But I keep thinking of my dad sitting in the darkness of his office giving away everything he has, and hate flows through me.
I hate what they did to him.
Because it wasn’t only his money, it was his pride, his dignity, and his future.
Stealing from this stupid restaurant is nothing compared to what he went through, and I’ll be damned if he loses anything else.
I’d rather go to jail for the rest of my life than watch my dad suffer for one second more.
The office door opens without a sound. I slip inside and close it behind me. My heart’s racing and my hands are sticky, and it’s not too late to stop, but I don’t. I head to the desk and get down on my hands and knees, crawling underneath it, my ass up in the air and my dress riding up, but I’m way past caring if I’m flashing my underwear.
The safe door opens. Rachel was right—Ethan didn’t bother to lock it. There’s a black duffel bag shoved inside, just like she said there would be, and I feel like I might throw up on my hands as I slowly drag it out.
The bag’s lighter than I expected, but I guess money isn’t all that heavy. My hands are shaking as I slowly pull back the zipper, mouth watering, tongue licking the back of my teeth, breath coming in rapid, shallow, because this is my last chance, my last attempt, and if this fails—
I stare at several rolls of duct tape, a black silk mask, and some silk ropes.
“What the ever-loving hell?” I whisper as confusion washes over me. This isn’t money. It’s not even close to money. What the hell would someone need with this stuff, anyway? A blindfold? Silk ropes? And under them, a ball gag—
Oh my god.
It’s a sex bag. A kinky sex bag. Like a BDSM sex bag. Like Ethan’s going to bind, gag, and do some weird fuck stuff tonight, and I found his private stash.
Rachel is so full of shit.
And Ethan’s a very naughty boy.
I start to zip it closed. I’m mentally berating myself because not only did I just try to steal from my place of employment and fail, but I also outed my manager’s sex life, which isn’t cool. I never should have done this, but it’s too late, because I hear the door to the office open, and I freeze.
My back’s to the door. Whoever just walked in doesn’t say anything at first. I assume it’s Ethan, and he’s getting a very good view of my lacy black panties—which were the only clean underwear I had tonight.
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to yank my dress down over my ass. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to find your sex bag. I didn’t mean to—”
I try to sit up and slam my head on the bottom of the desk.
“Oh, fucking fuck,” I groan as stars flash in front of my eyes.
Then there are hands on me. Big, gentle hands, guiding me up and onto the chair. I groan, rubbing what’s already feeling like a sizable lump, when my vision clears.
It’s not Ethan.
A man’s kneeling in front of me. I’ve never seen him in here before. He’s handsome, obscenely handsome, with a square jaw and slight salt-and-pepper stubble. But despite the white mixed into his black hair, he can’t be older than thirty-five at most. He’s in fantastic shape, and his expensive-looking suit grips his lean, toned body like a wet dream, and I’m absolutely stunned into silence.
His dark eyes stare into mine and there’s a slight curl to his lips.
“Sex bag?” he asks. Even his voice is sexy. My god, it’s like he’s wrapping those silk ropes around my throat.
“The blindfold,” I whisper. “The ball gag. I just figured—” I stop, frowning. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“My name’s Simon,” he says, touching the top of my head where I banged it. “And that’s my sex bag you’re talking about.”
Chapter 2
Simon
It’s rare to enter an employee’s office and find an attractive woman on all fours under his desk, her sexy lacy panties on full display, her round ass and that lovely mound of her pussy aching to be grabbed with both hands.