25. Dani
DANI
“Yay! You did it! I’m so proud of you. You conquered your fears!”
“Okay, so I might have misrepresented things…”
“Girl, I’m texting Gran to have her cancel the cake we ordered from Alessio’s.”
“No! I love Alessio’s cakes!”
“It was the white-chocolate raspberry one too.” Piper looks down at me as I slump over on the bathroom sink at Svensson Investment. “If you really want some cake, you can get your behind back to your kidnapper’s penthouse and tell him you’re not leaving until there’s bleeding.”
I feel sick.
“Why can’t we just go home and knit instead?”
“We have done that, and neither of our dream men have come crashing through the front door. We agreed—New Year’s resolution—that we were going to put ourselves out there. Get some practice with guys. Hopefully find Mr. Right. But we are willing to settle for Mr. Meh.”
She shoves a bag at me.
“Here, change your clothes. The execs from the Boston office are here, and you know it’s going to be a shit show.”
I sigh. “At least there will be catering.”
Having the Boston office in town, though, is a good excuse for a distraction.
It’s not like I can tell the VP that the reason I missed that typo was because I was thinking about how it felt to have a man’s fingers down there.
Well, any fingers, really.
I sleep on the floor. And my dad is up late, and my mom is up early, so it’s not like I’m going to lie there and fluff my pillow at night, you know?
“Did he text you?” Piper crouches down next to my desk.
In the conference room at the end of the open-office floor plan, Greg Svensson is screaming at one of his brothers. Gotta love nepotism.
Screw ’em. He can be verbally abusive as long as I get paid on time.
“Where is your phone? Graham didn’t text you at all?”
“No! Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered all that food.”
“No way. Guys don’t care.”
“You had, like, half a boyfriend, what do you know?”
“More than you,” Piper reminds me. “Look at the guys that Gran brings home. You’re telling me that men are out there with high standards? They just want a pussy. Old, young, doesn’t matter. As long as it’s warm. And Graham did want your pussy.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Graham was getting off on the prisoner thing. You did it in his closet, right?”
“We didn’t really do anything. Also, I leaked. A lot. In hindsight, maybe that grossed him out.”
“Kegels.”
“Not like that.”
“Ah. Dr. Piper says that you have lots of lubricant stored up because you haven’t been having sex. It’s like a snake or a spider.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works. That doesn’t really sound accurate.”
“Yeah, it is. I watched a TikTok video about it.”
“Maybe I smell. Do I smell?” I sniff myself. “I’m going to ask him.” I start typing.
“Do not”—Piper slaps my phone away—“text him that. Gawd, Dani.” She peers over the plant at my desk.
“Looks like lunch is over. I’m going to go take the leftovers to the break room. Make sure you’re first in line. It’s those fried chicken wraps you like from Red Skillet.”
I do like the fried chicken wraps, but biting into the crispy wrap with the spicy mayo sauce and the greasy fried chicken just doesn’t give me that same flood of pleasure.
Not like…
My face goes hot as I remember Graham and his fingers between my legs.
I shift in my seat, my panties suddenly tight and uncomfortable as I think about how I bent over for him.
The way his hand, strong and sure, stroked me.
How I wanted him lower.
How my pussy ached for something thick and hard inside of me.
I’m a good girl. The good daughter.
I pride myself on being boring and safe.
My parents would always complain about my brother—that he was always off at parties, that he always had a girlfriend, that he was looking at porn on his phone and getting viruses on the family PC.
Not me.
The worst I did was read Regency romance novels.
Mom didn’t even let me read Gran’s bodice rippers.
I wish he had just fucked me right there in the closet. Just spread my pussy and fucked his cock right into me, over and over, while I was bent over, helpless to stop it.
My clit and my pussy are swollen.
My panties are so soaked I’m worried they’re going to stain the light-gray skirt Piper brought me to change into.
I should just take them off.
But part of me is excited by my own desire, stoked by the phantom stroke of his hands.
I want to get impaled on a cock.
Want that pleasure that’s better than anything.
Want to be wanted.
Really, I need it.
I’m not going to get anything done today, that’s for sure.
There’s a conference room on the upper floor that’s usually not in use, and since all the Boston people and the Manhattan execs have just left for some big meeting in the city, the office is emptier.
I’m lucky.
The room’s empty.
The wall is all glass.
It’s off of a corridor, though.
No one’s going to go down there unless they’re going to the restrooms.
I sit down in one of the chairs. My skirt hikes up because of course it’s too small for me, what with all the wedding-planning stress eating.
And it’s not even my wedding!
“What am I doing?” I whisper.
Shifting in the chair reminds me what I’m craving.
Giving one last furtive look around, I pull out my phone, slip it under the table, and spread my legs.
It’s a quick video—just five seconds—as I slip my fingers under the lace panties, pulling and tugging at them, seeking that delicious friction as I rub myself over the soaking wet fabric.
Sucking in a sharp breath as I brush against the hard nub, I let my fingers explore then inadvertently let out a moan.
Shit.
My mouth is dry, and I look around, apprehensive.
Hopefully, no one heard that. I’m still alone, right?
My panties are officially trash.
I hurry next door into the bathroom and work them down my legs and toss them into the garbage.
Then, before I can chicken out, I compose a text message to Graham.
Dani: Thinking of you.
Sent.
Crap.
Maybe I should have said something sexier, you know, focus-grouped that sex message. “Thinking of you” sounds stalkery. Like I’m in love with him or something.
“Can you retract a text message?” I google as I hurry back to my desk.
I stupidly sent a boy sexy photos before.
My mom caught me, though, and told Colette’s mom. And Colette told the whole school.
But the guy did say that he jacked off to them. So I have that going for me.
Is Graham going to jack off to this video?
Is he going to race over here and fuck me in the bathroom?
I stare at the phone.
There are three little dots like he’s typing.
Then nothing.
Is Piper wrong?
Was I just too gross for him to want to sleep with?
My seat neighbor is coming back to her desk with tea. I slap the phone down on the desk, and she gives me a dirty look.
I jump when my phone beeps.
But it’s just my mom wanting to know if I want to go to Colette’s parents’ house for cocktails.
As if.
Why isn’t Graham writing?
Maybe he’s making his own video.
I’m soaked again at the thought of seeing his cock. Would he fist it? Narrate about how he’s getting nice and hard to fuck my pussy?
I only have a couple of hours until I can safely leave for the evening. I did get here super early so that I could sneak in without anyone seeing me wearing one of Graham’s suit jackets over the lacy white babydoll dress.
I can survive pantyless.
I end up staying at the office longer than I wanted. One of the associates needs changes on a proposal because “We just had a meeting with the client, and we need to send this to them immediately.”
I’m not even mad because it at least distracts me from the fact that Graham has not responded. Not with a dick pic, not with an emoji, not with a “k thx.”
Nothing.
And I know he saw it.
I was right. He does think I’m unfuckable.
“Dani?”
“Oh! Kraig, hi! I was thinking about making thumbprint cookies this weekend. You’re not allergic to raspberries, are you?” I chirp.
“Nope. Sounds delicious.”
“Great.” I smile at him. “Well.” I slowly turn back to my computer. “Guess I better finish this up…”
“I found these.” Kraig is still standing there, not moving.
“Found what?” I turn back.
Shoot. Crap. What the hell?
In his hands are my panties from the bathroom.
I try not to let him see the shock on my face.
“Do you know whose they are?” he asks calmly.
“Um… I’m not sure.” I swallow.
His eyes slide down my chest.
“They yours?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I mean… no. They aren’t.”
He presses them to his face. Inhales deeply.
“Smells like you.”
“Just a weird coincidence.” I scoop my laptop into my bag, shove the cables in the side pocket, and grab my purse. “Have to run. Have a good evening.”
I should be creeped out by Kraig going to fish my panties out of the garbage.
It means he was watching me.
But the horny part of me is like, well, at least someone likes them.
Outside, it’s sleeting again—frozen slush that wants to be snow but just can’t quite get there.
If I’d stayed another hour, I could have called an Uber.
I’m so busy concentrating on that that I don’t see the big black car until it’s right beside me…