Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I did my research on Poppy Clark. She’s from a small town and has had the same boyfriend since her junior year of high school. Her folks are good, hard-working, churchgoing people. I would spontaneously combust if I ever set foot in a church.
No, Poppy Clark is not the type to choke by my hand or my cock. She’s a missionary position, bored housewife in the making. And that’s a damn shame. When my phone begins ringing I’m grateful for the distraction until I see my best friend Vance’s name on the screen. “What do you want?” I bark, sipping my coffee.
She does know how I like my coffee.
“Why are you so moody? Still pining after your temporary assistant?” His dark chuckle makes my stomach tighten.
The asshole has some kind of sixth sense. “Fuck off.” I snap, adjusting myself because I’m getting blue balls.
Pressing the button to alter the glass that makes up the walls of my office, they shift slightly in color. No one has ever asked why they do it, but they must have noticed they can no longer see inside this room.“So that’s a yes.” He snorts. “And you should watch your tone with me,” he warns.
I rise to my feet and walk over to the now one-way glass, looking out across the work force floor. No one knows I can see them, and they can’t see me, giving me a sick kind of thrill. It’s not becoming to spy on your staff, but I like to edge myself, and not just in the bedroom.
From what I’m told, I’m well-liked by my staff. I wonder if it’s because they see the version of me I allow them to see. If they dug a little deeper, would they be so relaxed around me? “Are you watching her right now, Tristan?”
Forgetting he’s on loudspeaker, I jolt at his question, not missing the amusement in his tone. “No.”
“Liar,” he growls, causing the hairs to raise on my arms. Good thing he can’t see how accurate he is. “What is she wearing?”
Linda approaches Poppy’s desk, complaining about something, judging by her pinched expression. Linda has a sense of entitlement and tends to boss around the younger staff members. I’ve encountered many women like her, and the mere thought of their arrogance sends a shudder down my spine. She’s set to retire soon, otherwise, I would consider firing her. If Poppy requested it, I would do it immediately. “Tristan.” My attention returns to Vance when I hear the tone he usually reserves for the bedroom.
“What?” I grunt, captivated by Poppy, the thick strands of her hair spilling around her face and resting over her tits, hidden beneath a cute little sweater that has tiny flowers embroidered on it. Christ, she’s a good girl, and I’m desperate to break my restraints, dirty all that primness right out of her.
A grin tips my lips when Linda turns away from Poppy, and Poppy sticks her tongue out to her back.
A rebellious streak.
I like it.
“Let’s go out tonight.” Vance breathes down the line, and I can picture him pacing the apartment. Vance is an investor, which means that he puts money up for people like me, then he waits for us to make him rich. Which we do, leaving him with a lot of free time, and he often gets bored.
“No,” I grumble. The office party is tomorrow before we close up for the holidays, and that’s about as much cheer as I can take.
I close my eyes at his heavy exhale. “I need some relief. My folks are pestering me about Christmas again.” The asshole should be grateful he has folks to complain about. I understand his annoyance, though. Vance’s parents are your typical blue-blood, rich, old money, and old values. They think Vance should be married with two point five kids by now, but he keeps refusing the wives they pick for him.
Though our reasons are different, like me, Vance, shies away from commitment. For me, I can’t be used and abandoned if there’s no one I truly care about. I think for him it’s more about maintaining control and not giving any of it up to his family. Whatever the reasoning, we only date. And I use the term date loosely, with a certain type and only for a specified period with a contract in place to uncomplicate things. One-night stands are fine, but we don’t bring them back to the apartment. “I know you’re brooding.” He adds when I remain silent.
“I don’t brood.” I rub my temples.
“There’re those lies again.” He tsks, clucking his tongue and I can imagine the darkening of his eyes. “Let’s go out. Women get frisky around the holidays.” Vance has no problem finding women, no matter the season. He’s a good looking, thirty-three-year-old millionaire, for fuck’s sake.
Blowing out a breath, I turn from the window and move back to my chair. “Call Miranda. She’s been begging for some action.” I click through some emails while he grouses down the line.