Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 38202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Time to get yourself back in control, I tell myself determinedly.
And step one to that is to hold your head high and act cool.
Got it?
When I open the door, Virginia is still inside our boss’ office. Mr. Rochester is seated behind his desk while she’s leaning towards him, her blouse unbuttoned low enough to reveal the pink lace trim of her bra.
She’s sexy, I think grudgingly. An uncomfortable, flaming-hot sensation flares up inside of me at the thought, and I grimace when I realize it’s none other than jealousy.
“Thank you so much for clearing that up, Mr. Rochester,” I hear Virginia gush. “It’s been troubling me the entire time, not knowing what’s the right thing to do.”
I close the washroom door loudly behind me, but neither of them turns my way.
“I just want to be what you want me to be, you know?”
I clear my throat loudly as she speaks, but both of them continue to ignore me.
What the hell?
I can feel myself turning red in annoyance and my cheeks flush hotter when I see Virginia start inching closer—-
And Mr. Rochester isn’t doing a damn thing to stop it.
Again: what the hell?
Doesn’t he realize she’s trying to seduce him?
No sooner do I think this when Mr. Rochester chooses that same moment to glance up.
I glare at him. MANWHORE!
His sapphire eyes gleam like he knows what I’m thinking...and doesn’t care.
Virginia suddenly turns and scowls at me over her shoulder like she’s calling me a bitch without words.
I scowl just as fiercely. Back atcha!
Virginia flips her hair over her shoulder. “As I was saying, Mr. Rochester...” She moves a little to the right, and the new position effectively cuts my line of vision to Mr. Rochester.
I bite back a gasp. How...admirably cunning! As Virginia continues with her attempt to hypnotize Mr. Rochester with her jiggling breasts, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath.
Fine then.
Round 1 is all hers, but it’s a shallow victory, I think ungenerously, considering I’m the one who had Mr. Rochester’s fingers inside her—-
My thoughts come to a screeching halt when I realize where they’re heading.
Seriously, Reed?
Panic consumes me, and this time I don’t even want to look their way as I march out of Mr. Rochester’s office. Shock and shame wars inside of me as I try to make sense of my thoughts. Dear God.
How did I end up like this?
Since when did I turn into a woman whose victory is determined by who’s finger-fucking her?
I grab my iPhone as soon as I make it back to my desk, but before I can type an SOS message to my online friends I realize I already have an unread message waiting for me – from him.
Mr. Rochester: Jealous?
Oh!
Me: You wish.
Mr. Rochester: That’s too bad. I’d have gotten rid of this woman if you said yes, and then I’d fuck you right after.
I almost toss my iPhone into the garbage bin.
Bastard.
IT’S A QUARTER TO FIVE when Mr. Rochester leaves his office and stops by my desk, saying, “Shall we go?”
Looking up, I open my mouth to refuse, see my boss raise an inquiring brow, and change my mind. “Okay,” I say sullenly.
Mr. Rochester patiently waits for me to gather my stuff, and when I’m done he places his hand on the small of my back as we start to walk. Everyone turns to follow us with their gazes, which I do my best to ignore.
When we make it to reception, I catch a glimpse of Virginia’s resentful gaze.
“Your new girlfriend’s mad.” As soon as the muttered words come out of my mouth I want to bite my tongue off. Way to go, Reed. That’s exactly what I shouldn’t have said if I wanted to pretend indifference.
But Mr. Rochester only shrugs, saying mildly, “She’s the understanding type.”
My furious gaze snaps up to his, and I snarl, “Understanding?” What the hell does that mean? And does he mean he wants me to be just as understanding? Does he think I’ll be okay if he divides his time between me and another woman?
The offensive thought has me bristling, and I can barely contain myself, waiting only until we’re alone in his blasted limousine before hissing, “What do you mean ‘understanding’, asshole?”
Mr. Rochester crosses his legs with an amused smirk curving on his lips. “So you are jealous.”
“What I am,” I snap, “is offended, while you are an idiot if you think I’m going to let you get away—-” The rest of my words turn into a choked gasp as Mr. Rochester suddenly hauls me into his lap.
My knees land apart, and I let out a cry when I realize I’m straddling him on the car seat, and his monstrous cock is pulsing powerfully under his pants, enough to make the folds of my pussy start to moist.
Oh God.
As our gazes clash, and Mr. Rochester murmurs lazily, “This is all your fault, you know.”