Chapter 2
Two
Kingston
“We need to talk about the Ruberetta accounts,” Kristin says, walking into my office without knocking.
Mildly annoyed, I look up from my monitor. “Just come right in, why don’t you.”
“Thanks.” She smiles widely. “Ruberetta is turning into a bigger pain in the ass than I ever would’ve expected.”
“Is it because you’re a woman, or because you’re not Joel?” I turn back to my screen.
“Both, probably. He’s the biggest misogynist I’ve ever met.”
Yeah, he and Joel had a lot in common. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to get rid of Joel and put someone else on Ruberetta’s accounts, but if anyone’s up to the task, it’s Kristin.
“Are you uncomfortable with it? Do you want me to give him to Grant instead?” I ask. Grant will want to die a thousand deaths before dealing with Ruberetta, but that goes for just about everyone at Tyler Analytics.
“Not uncomfortable per se,” she says, leaning against the edge of my desk. “But I’d feel better if you and I could meet for dinner one evening and hash out some strategies.”
“Sure, run it through Fareed, he knows my schedule.” Fareed, my personal assistant, should have been consulted on this to begin with—Kristin knows that.
“Will do.”
When I don’t say anything else, she straightens up and moves toward the door. Finally. I need to concentrate.
Before she leaves, though, she says, “It means a lot that you talked to me last Saturday, when we were evacuating the building.”
“Of course.” It was almost a week ago, so it’s weird she’s bringing it up now, but okay.
She doesn’t speak, and I can feel her eyes on me.
“Is there something else?” I ask, looking up.
Shaking her head, she runs a hand over her neck and upper chest, as if trying to subtly bring my attention to her cleavage.
Shit, is she interested in me? I thought it might be the case earlier on, so I foisted most of her training onto Grant. I thought that she’d gotten the hint that if there was any interest, it wasn’t mutual.
“All right,” I say brusquely. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get back to work.”
“Right. I’ll talk to Fareed when he gets back from his lunch break.”
Ah. Of course. That’s why she didn’t initially go through him when she wanted to arrange a meeting with me. Fareed is used to operating behind the scenes, and sometimes when I’m working hard, like now, I don’t notice when he takes his lunch.
When I don’t respond, Kristin nods to herself and finally leaves the room.
My flow and my sense of focus has been disrupted, though. I may as well take a short break. I reach for my phone, which I’d put on Do Not Disturb .
Several texts from Ella, and a missed call from Sebastian.
Ella’s texts aren’t emergencies, but it’s been too long since I heard her voice. I hit the button for a video call, hoping she’ll accept it.
Ella
My apartment is pretty damned clean, but of course I’m cleaning it again anyway.
Nervous energy. I haven’t seen Kingston or Sebastian in almost a week, and I’m missing them.
At least Sebastian is texting with me, little notes here and there, asking about my work schedule, trying to see if I can get Saturday night off from the pub.
I probably could, but I need the money. It’s a game night, so we’re allowed to accept tips.
To Sebastian’s credit, he’s very understanding and just asks me to let him know when I might have a Friday or Saturday night off because he wants to do something special with me.
Kingston texts, too, but his messages are terse. I get that he’s busy. I just miss him.
Maybe I’m being too clingy.
A part of me wants to be petty and stop reaching out to him, see if he likes feeling ignored. But that seems counterproductive. If we love each other, we’ll make time for each other. I can be patient.
As if summoned by my virtuous patience, Kingston calls me.
I accept the video chat and am rewarded with a view of his handsome face.
He’s in his office, surprise, surprise. The later afternoon sun hits his face just right, illuminating those storm-gray eyes and making his five o’clock shadow look rugged.
His dark hair is slightly messy, like he’s been absently running his hands through it.
I can imagine he’s tired and frustrated.
Yet here he is, making time for me.
“Hi,” I say, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“Hey, little girl. You have time to talk?”
I look at the time. “I have to start getting ready for work in ten minutes, but yeah.”
“I’ve been missing you.” His voice is low, gruff.
“I’ve been missing you, too.”
“How much?” There’s a sexy challenge in his eyes.
“So much.”
“Have you touched yourself and thought of me?”
Only every night before falling asleep. “Maybe.”
“I jerk off whenever I’m alone,” he says. “And when I come, baby girl, your name is on my lips.”
“I say your and Sebastian’s names, too,” I confess.
“Do you? And when you get off, are you using toys, or your fingers?”
“Mm, it depends,” I say. “Whatever I feel like.”
“You’re in your apartment now,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re alone.”
I can see where this is going, but I decide to play innocent again, because I know how much he likes “corrupting” me. “Yes, Daddy. I’m all alone. Why do you ask?”
His voice lowers. “Because I want you to touch yourself right now and pretend it’s me.”
I gasp. “That’s so dirty, though.”
“Do it.” He gives me a wicked grin. “Daddy says so. Don’t be disobedient.”
“Okay, I’ll listen. Where, um, where do you want me to touch?”
“Start with your tits. Angle the phone down so I can see.”
I start petting my breasts over my shirt. It feels good, but the fabric of my shirt and bra diminish the sensation. Still, I make it sexy. Kingston has called me and I want to make it good for both of us.
“More,” he says in a strangled voice. “Lift up your shirt, little one, and push down your bra. I want to see your nipples.”
“Daddy, you’re asking me to do bad things,” I protest.
“You better listen to me.”
The view behind him changes as he moves through his office. Pretty soon, the walls turn to a gray tile with dark gray trim. He’s going to the attached bathroom. I grin, because maybe he’ll jerk off, too, and let me watch.
“Now,” he says, “show me your pretty little tits.”
Slowly, pretending reluctance, I lift up my shirt. My bra is made of light pink lace. Cheap, like all of my others, but it makes me feel good to have on sexy underthings.
“Fuck. Now shove the bra down.”
I do it, then circle one of my nipples with a finger. “Is this what you want, Daddy? It feels so wrong to do this…maybe I should get off the phone.”
“You should get off, all right,” he says, “but if you end this call, you’re in for the spanking of your life.”
Well, that doesn’t sound too bad to me, but I’d rather play with him. So I bite my lip and continue touching my breasts.
“Take off your pants now,” he says. “Show me your panties.”
I don’t protest, because I’m too into it now. I just do as he says, angling the phone so he can see my panty-covered mound.
“Are you wet?” he asks.
“That’s inappropriate,” I say.
“That wasn’t my question, little girl.”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m wet.”
“Put your hand in your panties and touch your pussy. Pretend it’s me.”
His breathing is audibly loud over the phone as I move my hand down to my panties and ease it behind the waistband.
I run my fingers through my folds, imagining Kingston’s thick fingers doing the work instead, the way he’d shove one inside of me and fuck me that way for a moment before abruptly retreating to play with my clit.
Pretty soon, I’m gasping. The pleasure is building.
“Do you want to come, pretty girl?” he asks.
“Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy.”
“You’ve been such a good girl. You can come.”
My orgasm is fast and electric, blazing through my body in a single pulse. I sag against my sofa.
“Was it good, baby?” he asks.
“So good, Daddy, I say, feeling half-drunk with the power of my orgasm. “What about you? It’s only fair I get to watch now.”
His voice is low and raspy. “How can I resist a request like that?”
He angles the phone down and starts unfastening his pants. I lick my lips, thrilled with this new development. I don’t think I’ve ever watched a guy jack off like this. Sure, I’ve seen Sebastian and King do it briefly in front of me, but over the phone? This is freaking hot.
“King?” a woman’s voice says in the background. “Where are you? I really need your help with this.”
Kingston’s hand freezes at his open zipper.
Who’s the woman? I don’t voice the question, but it pings around in my head. Is it the woman who came out of the building with him on Saturday after the bomb scare?
Stop this , I tell myself.
Kingston zips up his pants again, and stands. “Sorry, baby girl. I have to go.”
“No,” I say, trying not to whine but failing.
“I’ll call you again soon,” he says. “Have a good evening at work.”
Work! Shit, I have to hurry. I’m going to be late, and I hate disappointing Kevin.
“Bye, Daddy,” I say.
“Bye, baby girl. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I rush through finding black jeans and a black button-down. It’s probably good Kingston and I were interrupted by the mystery woman. I dress in record time and start toward the bus stop. To my surprise, Kingston’s car is parked across the street. Garth waves me over.
“Mr. Tyler requested I drive you to work.”
“Thank you.” Now I won’t be as late. If I’m lucky, I might even make it on time. I climb into the car and Garth carefully closes the door behind me.
As soon as Garth stops the car outside of Bartleby’s, I jump out of the car with a thank-you.
Nicholas-don’t-call-me-Nick is waiting by the door. “You’re late.”
I look at my phone. I’m one minute late. Which seems a stupid thing to niggle over, especially because I’m almost always early. “Yeah, sorry. Where’s Kevin?”
“He broke his arm while hiking this morning.”
“Oh, how awful, I hope he’s okay.”
Nicholas gives me a you’re a dumbass look. “Well, he has a broken arm. So he’s not okay.”
Don’t react. Just breathe.