Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Her: I can think of so many things. Where would you like me to start?
I contemplate giving her an out. I know if I type back the words that she deleted, I'm going to force her to edit herself in her mind before typing things out.
I take a gamble, imagining her teasing me with her deleted words going forward.
Me: I'm thinking that you sucking the head of my cock so deep into your throat that I'll never want to leave would be a good way to jump things off.
My finger hovers over the send button for a few seconds before I press it. Nerves rack my body as I watch her read what I've typed out. The fact that I can watch her lips move as she reads it sends a wash of stimulus south, and it's my turn to have to shift in my seat.
Her: Oh. My. God.
Me: I think that would be my actual reaction as well.
Her grin only grows wider as her fingers work over the keyboard.
Her: I should probably be annoyed that you can see what I deleted, but know the only reason I didn't send it is because I was afraid it would be too much too soon.
Me: I don't want you to ever have to worry about speaking what's on your mind to me.
Her: None of what I'm thinking right now is suitable while I'm at work.
Me: Are you needy, baby?
Her teeth dig into her lower lip once again, making me contemplate a false fire alarm in her building that can't be turned off for hours, so she'd have to leave and come back here until it's dealt with.
Her: I ache.
She shifts her weight in her office chair again, and I can only imagine how turned on she is. I feel exactly the same way, and it forces my hand down. I adjust myself a little better, but it does nothing to ease the pang of need growing in my balls for this woman.
Me: Me too. What if I told you to go to the restroom and take those damp panties off for me?
Morgan looks over her shoulder again, her smile slow and a little devious as her fingers begin to type.
Her: What if I said I wasn't wearing any?
I groan with the need to have her here in this room so I can check for myself.
Her: I'd argue against it because I'd leave a mess on my office chair.
I sit back in my chair, hands flat on my thighs, as I fight the urge to grip my erection over my sweats.
Instead of typing more, she stands from her desk, gives the camera a saucy little wave, and disappears.
I squeeze my eyes closed, my mind wandering as I picture her going into one of the bathroom stalls and sliding her panties down her milky thighs.
A ping sounds, notifying me of a new message from her, but when I open my eyes and glare down at my computer screen, it isn't a message from Morgan that I'm staring at. Although it's the same program I'm using with her, a new chat window has popped up.
Evil Twin: This has been fun, but I have another job to attend to. Keep our woman warm in my absence.
The message disappears before I can sit up and start to type.
He has to know what my next move will be. I have no idea how long he's been working to infiltrate Cerberus's closed system, but opening the digital door to allow myself to chat with Morgan gave him the in he needed to get inside.
My fingers work feverishly over the keyboard as I attempt to close everything back up. I find nothing strange in our system. There's no virus or hidden program that will give him continued access to our equipment, but Henry has always been one step ahead of me. Something I've hated our entire lives. The system looks clean, and knowing him, just the idea that I'll be searching for something that might not be there will give him more pleasure than actually leaving something behind.
I've had to break the access to Morgan's work computer to seal my system back up, and I watch disappointment spread across her face when she takes a seat back in her office chair and notices that the chat window is gone.
I pull up my texting application and shoot her a text.
Me: TBC very soon, sweetheart.
Her smile grows on camera as she reads the text on her phone before she types back a message.
Her: I guess I'll go put these back on.
Her message comes through a second before a picture of lacy black underwear in her palm does.
Me: Don't you dare.
I don't know if it's her natural instinct to be a brat, but instead of sending a secondary response, she stands from her chair and walks away a second time, looking smug as she returns and gets back to work.