21. Gabriella
Gabriella
B ack at the office, I checked my emails and called Damien on my cellphone. Before it started ringing, Rosemary bounded into my office. She’d been with Beta Kappa Phi since graduating college two years ago, starting not long after I did.
“Have you heard?” she asked.
Disconnecting the call, I stood from my desk, met her halfway across the room, and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Oh my gosh. Millie said you’ll be gone after Friday.” Her expression saddened. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not. I’m simply moving to a different office.”
“And…” Rosemary bounced on her toes. “I’m taking over your old position.”
“I’m so glad you agreed. I know all our hard work will be in good hands.”
Rosemary reached for my hand. “I have so many questions and so much to learn. I seriously need every second of your time from now until Friday at five.”
“You don’t. You’ve been alongside me. You know what needs to be done. I have faith in you.”
“Yeah, Millie said the same thing.” She shook her head. “I’m talking intense one-on-one training.”
“I’ll be glad to do what I can, but I think you’ll fill the role perfectly, and you’ll have Niles at your side.”
“I need to start working on next year’s gala.” Her eyes opened wide. “You’ll still attend, won’t you? Oh, I can’t schmooze those old guys like you can.”
“Just be yourself.”
Rosemary looked around. “We’ll start tomorrow morning at eight. I’ll bring donuts.”
“Eight?” I say, my eyes opened wide.
“Eight-thirty?”
I nodded. “No donuts necessary.”
“Thank you, Ella. For everything.”
Once I’m again seated at my desk, I reached for my cellphone. One missed call showed on the screen. It also showed my outgoing call. “Shit, my call must have gone through,” I mumble as I hit the call button.
“Ms. Crystal.” Damien’s tone was stern. “While I enjoy a game of tag every now and again, this inability to answer my calls or it seems to even be on the line when you call me is grating on my nerves.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You see, I take my job seriously and turn off my ringer while at work. Also, I just accepted a new position, and, well, I’m very busy at the moment.”
“Movers will be to Beta Kappa Phi Friday morning to move your things to Sinclair.”
My smile faded. “Movers?” I hadn’t thought about moving everything. After all, this move of offices wasn’t permanent.
Is it?
“I don’t think that will be necessary. As we keep saying, I’m still employed by the fraternity.”
“The movers are scheduled. If you have any further concerns, call Johnathon. I’ll text you his number.”
Johnathon.
Right.
Damien Sinclair was too busy to deal with the mundane.
“Ella?”
“Yes?”
“Turn on your damn ringer. When I call, I want to be answered. No more fucking excuses.”
The rebuttal on the tip of my tongue stayed silent. Damien had already disconnected the call.
Shit.
I needed to talk to Millie.
“You’re just being an ass now,” I said into my phone as I hit the speaker and continued readying for bed. I’d just finished brushing my teeth and washing my face. This was the fifth call I’d received from Damien since he proclaimed my need to answer every call.
His deep laugh echoing through my bathroom was almost enough to forgive him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready for bed.”
“I like the sound of that. Send me a selfie.”
I met my own blue stare in the bathroom mirror. “My face is washed—no makeup. I’m wearing a camisole and short shorts. My hair is brushed and braided. I’m not exactly selfie-ready.”
“It wasn’t a yes-or-no question. It was a request, the kind you don’t refuse.”
“Damien, this is wrong. I can’t?—”
“Not wrong. This isn’t about the campaign. This is about us. Send the damn picture.”
Us?
“Fine. I need to hang up.”
Disconnecting the call, I opened the camera on my phone and spun the lens toward me. As I pushed the button, I stuck out my tongue. No, it wasn’t a great picture. With a smile, I sent it to Damien.
Seconds later, my phone chimed. I hit the text message. “Oh my God.”
My skin warmed and core clenched as I looked at his picture. He also had his tongue sticking out. It wasn’t the picture that flooded my circulation with heat. It was the text message accompanying it:
“This is what I’ll be doing when you sit on my face, but my tongue will be covered with your sweet nectar and my ears will be filled with your screams of ecstasy. I’m hard thinking about it. Call and we can come together.”
Walking into my bedroom, I sat on my bed, his text message running on repeat in my mind. Lying back and against my better judgment, I hit the call button and brought the phone to my ear.
“I didn’t expect you to call,” he said with a chuckle to his deep tone.
“Are you saying those earlier demands are no longer in effect?”
“I’m glad you did.”
“I called to tell you that you’re inappropriate. I could take screenshots. HR would have a field day.”
“You don’t work for Sinclair,” he reminded me. “What I am is hard. My cock is out, and I’m fisting it right now.”
Warmth crawled up my neck to my cheeks. “Daamiien.” His name came out with extra syllables.
“Join me.”
“What? I can’t.” As I said the words, I stared up at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on the whirling ceiling fan. Instead, I was imagining what Damien was doing.
“I know for a fact you can.”
I had, just last night.
Chewing my lower lip, I waited as the heat within me built. It was a fire that moments ago didn’t exist and now, in mere minutes, was out of control.
“Talk to me, Ella. Tell me what you’re doing,” he demanded in a sultry tone.
“I’m going to bed. Just like I said.”
“Do you have panties on under those shorts?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Pull them down and finger yourself. Get your finger nice and wet.”
I considered what he was saying. “Are you really…?”
“Fuck,” he growled.
The images of last night became more vivid. I recalled the look on his face seconds before he came, seconds before his seed marked me. The primal beauty came back, the intensity of his gaze, and the way the tendons in his neck tightened. I pushed my shorts down and kicked them off.
“Talk to me, Ella.”
“My shorts are off.”
“Good girl. Is your finger dry?”
“Yeah…I haven’t…”
His tone deepened. “I can imagine how beautiful you look with your knees spread wide. Spread those knees.”
Biting my lip, I did as he said. Each breath came quicker. My nipples beaded.
Damien’s voice continued. “Put the phone on speaker. Lay it next to you. I want you to play with your perfect tits with one hand while you sink the fingers of your other into that pretty pink pussy.”
“Fuck, Damien,” I panted as my hands obeyed. “This is…” I was going to say wrong, but as his groans grew louder and my hands moved faster, wrong was far from the right word. My sounds joined his, a primitive serenade, two people finding pleasure together. I closed my eyes as the orgasm hit.
“Fuck,” he growled again. “This is what you’re doing to me.”
“Me?” I wiped my hand over my damp brow.
Other than last night, I rarely made myself come without a vibrator. This was the second time in two nights.
“You,” he cooed. “Good night, Ella. Take care of that sweet pussy.”
Yeah. I just did that.
“Good night.”
“Make that my two favorite pussies. Tell Duchess good night.”
I shook my head. Sitting up, I looked around the bedroom. The lights were still on, and the blinds were lifted just high enough to have the windows open. Duchess lay on one of the sills. “He said good night.”
She looked my way, and I swear she smiled.
“Good night, Damien.”