Playing with fire (1)

Playing with fire (1)
KIRA

My heart lurches in my throat when the text message goes from delivered to read.

A flood of guilt and nervousness pools inside me. What was I thinking? I was emboldened by Rhys making me suck his cock, but it doesn’t mean I can simply send such an explicit picture to him. If I don’t see a shrink soon, I’ll end up in a mental asylum or six feet underground.

At least it wasn’t a picture of my pussy, I console myself. Lord knows how tempting that was.

The seconds tick painfully slowly as the tiny dots jump around next to his name, but then they stop, and the message never arrives. Even when it’s blatantly apparent that he thinks I am out of my mind, I wait.

Perhaps someone entered his office unannounced—because his assistant is not at her desk to let her know of the guest’s arrival.

Who knows? He could have decided to send a picture of his cock, demonstrating how hard I’m making him.

But the latter would solely happen in my fantasies, and it’s time I faced reality. Rhys isn’t attracted to me. To him, this is all for fun.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s only about pleasure for me, too, but we are not on the same wavelength. While he’s exploring and toying with the idea of fooling around with his employee, my brain is already a mess from all the fantasies I thought up.

I return to my desk, feeling more frustrated than I was. Rhys doesn’t touch on the subject, remaining so professional that if the taste of his cock wasn’t still lingering at the back of my tongue, I would think I imagined everything that went down since last night.

Rhys calls me to his office more often than usual, asking me to bring more coffee or print a document, among other menial tasks he could have communicated over the intercom. Two out of three times I feel his eyes on my body, laden with a frustration that threatens to set my clothes ablaze.

Or I'm still so lost in a nonexistent world that my brain interprets all his actions as desire.

I decide to verify the theory when Rhys asks for iced coffee despite not having finished the last two cups I gave him.

I take my time stirring syrup into the coffee, gathering my courage to make yet another foolish decision.

At the door to his office, I undo three of my buttons, ensuring a sliver of my bra is visible. I knock gently and wait for his gruff grunt to let me in. As soon as I’m in his line of sight, Rhys squints, his eyes landing on my exposed chest. The boss immediately turns away, but not before his gaze flits to my eyes, like he’s afraid I caught him staring.

I place the cup beside his hand, leaning forward ever so slightly. This time, his gaze stays glued to the coffee cup, but I smile nonetheless. "Enjoy your coffee, sir."

His breathing hitches ever so slightly, which he masks with his nonchalant expression. When I walk out, there’s an added sway to my hips, and I don’t need to turn to know he’s watching the show. I’m not the only one working while simultaneously trying to cool down a wild arousal.

_____

"Did something happen to Mr. Redmond recently?"

I look up from my computer to find Aubrey, the CFO’s assistant, shitting a brick. Her hair is in disarray when it’s only midday and her bun has always been spotless, with not a single strand out of place.

I close the window I’m working on, because God forbid the highly priced Redmond secrets get leaked thanks to someone accidentally glimpsing a confidential email. "Whoa, did you get electrocuted?"

"Worse. Rhys was an asshole in the meeting."

"So, nothing new happened, then," I chuckle.

"No." Aubrey peeks down the hallway to ensure the boss in question isn’t within earshot. "I mean, he was an unbearable asshole. I need to know if something happened and I should start writing my will."

Sadly, Aubrey isn’t exaggerating. Rhys Redmond is the type of person to kill a bystander—or at least that’s what we all believe.

"I haven’t received any bad news on his behalf," I say. Not that it would be my place to tell his other employees if I did. "There’s no need to write your will. I’m sure he’s just exhausted and will be his regular, charming self soon."

Aubrey is even more worried about that, but she hurries back to the CFO’s office lest Rhys find her here. Unlucky for her, they bump into each other at the end of the hall, and I hear her coy "Good afternoon, Mr. Redmond."

Rhys grunts and ignores her. Meanwhile, I focus on replying to an email, wanting to appear as busy as possible. He walks past me, and opens the door to the purgatory, barking, "My office, now."

My heart is going a mile a minute by the time I’m before him.

Whatever is coming for me, I deserve it for playing with fire. Yet, fear is the last thing on my mind. He yanks his tie and throws it on his desk, tipping his head back into his headrest. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and the movement draws me in like a moth to a flame.

"Close the door, Miss Davidson."

The order sends a jolt down my body, making my pussy clench in anticipation. "Yes, sir."

I stand by the door after latching it, studying the furious man. Rhys is ogling me like a predator about to pounce on his unsuspecting prey, eyes sharp and masked with desire.

"I told you not to call me that," he snaps.

"I know why," I bite back, barely able to hold back my smile. Since I’ve already courted this much trouble, I can play a little more, can’t I? "Does it turn you on, sir?"