No lusting after Russel Greenwood. My self-control was better than that.
* * *
I walked along the line of glass cubicles—we called them terrariums for us gerbils. Only execs had actual walls, except they had exchanged some of them for mirrors. Strange. I glimpsed my own image in one and froze. My eyes wide with shock, I stared at myself.
I couldn’t be naked at work, for fuck’s sake!
I covered my groin with a hand and looked around, panicking. Where were my clothes? At my desk? Where was my desk? This looked like a different floor. I didn’t recognize any of the furniture. There were no plants and no pictures on the walls.
I stopped in front of another mirror. A twin wound sat at the base of my throat, two pin-pricks of red. As I stared at them, they began oozing blood. Bright red, it trickled down my torso.
Russel stood behind me. His shirt was pristine, and it occurred to me he’d never get the bloodstains out of it if he touched me. His hands covered my belly. He tugged me closer, and I could feel his hard dick against my ass through the thin material of his slacks. He stroked up my chest, over my nipples, until he clasped my throat with his strong hand. He smeared the blood around. Red seeped into the cuff of his white shirt, but he didn’t seem to care.
I met his eyes in the mirror. Their color was copper and sunset. He petted me, painting my body with my blood, as he nuzzled my earlobe. Then he circled his bloodstained hand around my cock.
I moaned, bucking into his hold.
“Please.”
We were at the office, where anyone could walk in on us. But I had lost my job, and nobody would want anything to do with me ever again. Russel licked my throat, humming, as he jerked me off.
“I’ve been looking for you, Eddie.”
The blood kept flowing. When I glanced at my feet, I stood in a pool of it.
Gasping for breath, I sat up on my bed. I grabbed my throat and blinked into the pale morning light. I wasn’t bleeding. I was at home in my bedroom, and I still had my job. I was fine. Just a dream. A bonkers, disturbing, sexual dream about my new boss. No biggie.
I fell back on the bed with a groan. My dick was throbbing in my pajama pants. I gave up. I took them off, fished the lube out of the nightstand, and lay on top of the covers. If I fingered myself, I’d come harder. I needed a good one to drain the sexual frustration.
With one slippery hand around my cock and two fingers pushing into my opening, I closed my eyes. I didn’t think about the dream.
Instead, I imagined what would have happened, had I gone home with Russel last Friday. I visualized a nondescript sofa in a dark living room, me kneeling on the floor with my ass pushed out, hugging some pillow. Warm lips brushed the crook of my neck and shoulder, and a thick cock inched into my body.
He would fuck me slowly and shallowly to rile me up, just tickling my cockhead with his fingers.
And then he would push his dick into me to the hilt and bite me.
With my fingers in my hole, as deep as I could shove them, I came all over my stomach. I panted, letting the reality creep back in. After wiping myself off with a few tissues and washing my hands in the bathroom, I checked my phone.
It was half past five a.m. Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow.
6
PAPER CUT
RUSSEL
In the grand tradition of middle management, I was the last member of my team left at the office. Not that I had a family or a life to go to. Besides, going home would be much more pleasant after sunset.
Anthony walked by my open door at seven and peered inside.
“I had an interesting call. We might get a new client out of it.”
He didn’t seem keen to come in, so I rose and stepped around my desk to talk with him face-to-face.
“I saw the notification pop up in my calendar. Who is it?”
“Helen Snyder and Pierce Black. Confidential, of course. They’ve heard of you and asked for you specifically. You’ll be meeting them at a hotel room three blocks down.”
