Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I kept looking at the Untitled document, too curious not to open it.
“God, I’m a terrible person…” I clicked until it opened.
The words returned. I scrolled to a random paragraph.
His large hand gripped the back of her neck and shoved her face into the comforter of his bed, bending her down, increasing the arch in her back, and he fucked her like he hated her, fucked her like he wanted it to hurt every time she sat down the following day. “You like that, baby?” Every thrust was deep and hard, ramming every inch of his dick inside that slick pussy. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them against her lower back, dominating her in his bedroom, pounding that pussy every man wished he could fuck.
Her dark hair was all over the bed, and she screamed into the sheets as she came around his dick like a dog in heat, tears burning in her eyes because it felt so good. “Yes…Derek.” She’d only come to the penthouse to deliver his mail, but it was just an excuse to see him, an excuse to take his dick like last night…and the night before.
“Okay…that’s me.”
I scrolled higher up and found another story about me…and another.
They were all about me.
I could see my reflection in the computer since the daylight streamed through the windows behind me. My cheeks were red, my eyes a little wet, and I recognized that look because I’d seen it before.
I was turned on.
I shut the computer and tried to push it from my mind.
He was a great writer…of course, it turned me on.
I dragged my hands down my face and tried to figure out what to do. How did I handle this?
Did I have to handle it all?
There was no point in mentioning it to him, because it would only embarrass him and lead to a conversation neither one of us wanted to have. It might put my job in jeopardy. He’d never shown his attraction to me when we were together, so he knew how to keep our relationship professional even if he did want to fuck me like that.
So, was there anything to do?
I should just forget it happened…and never open that document again.
After Derek finished his lecture, he worked on problems with his students for the next hour.
I sat there and tried to focus on editing his pages.
But my eyes flicked up and watched him standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, one elbow pressed into the other arm so his fingers could rest over his lips, the marker still in his hand. He was in a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His dark jeans hung low on his hips. He hadn’t shaved in a while, so his shadow was getting thick, matching the darkness of his eyes, that sexy dark hair on top of his head.
He took the question from the student then walked to the whiteboard so he could write down the problem they were about to work on. “I noticed the problems you missed were a result of carrying over your work incorrectly. Instead of showing your work, you skipped ahead and wrote down the answer. But you wrote it down incorrectly, so it got lost as you kept working.” He continued to write on the board, his arm above his head, showing the thickness of his arms and his narrow waist as his shirt lifted. His deep voice projected naturally into the whole room. “Most professors would offer partial credit, but I won’t. Why?” He turned back around and crossed his arms again, his intense eyes taking in the sight of all his students. “Because that wrong answer would cause an error, possibly an explosion, and your boss isn’t going to care that you did most of the problem correctly. Now, he’s lost expensive resources—because you gave the wrong answer through your negligence. This shit needs to stop. We’ve completed the second exam, and I expect these careless mistakes to cease. Got it?”
No one dared to speak.
He turned back to the board and worked out the problem. “Alright, let’s break it down step by step. What do we do first?”
Instead of working on his edits, I just stared…and stared.
I was sitting at his desk in the office when I noticed Derek get up from the floor. He’d been low, working on something, and when he popped again, his t-shirt was stained with black marks and dirt.
He didn’t seem to care, because he continued talking to Pierre and Jerome without interruption. Whenever he was particularly passionate about his work, he used his hands more often, and he did that now, having a debate with his colleagues.
God, he looked so hot.
When he was intense, covered in dirt from working with his hands, so brilliant that I couldn’t understand a word he said…it was so sexy.