Page 17 of Call Me Sir

Nothing if Danny isn’t involved. What would I like to be doing?

Definitely my boss.

Something in the atmosphere changes and he leans in.

“Be explicit.”

He damn near growls it.

I can’t meet his gaze. I’m scared I might leap over to him and start making out with him.

That mental picture makes me laugh because I know that’s not how it would go at all. For some reason, he makes me freeze.

“I would turn my phone off.” I try to think of my little apartment tucked away from the world. I’m on the third floor and while it means taking the elevator or walking, it also means an incredible view.

“More.”

“I would get us both drunk, and strip us down out on the balcony to make out on the patio while the sun is setting.”

He shifts next to me and I can tell with the way he inches his ass back in the seat that he has to be sporting a hard on. I wonder what his dick looks like. Is it as long as his forearm?

To be honest, I’m sure he could destroy me with any length.

“And I would have you stand and get on my knees and suck you. I’d beg for you to put your hand around my throat.”

Jesus. Just picturing it alone has me rearing and ready to go. But speaking it in public where anyone could lean in and tune in at any moment?

It’s fucking hot. I would keep going except he cuts me off.

“And what’s stopping you from doing that with Danny?”

The question catches me off guard. It’s not sexy at all. Now I meet his dark eyes. In this dim lighting they somehow seem softer. Or maybe it’s the way he asked.

I didn’t want a therapy session, I wanted to tell my boss to fuck me.

I shrug.

“Tell me.”

Damn.

Am I destined to do whatever he says? As an employee I don’t obey him this way. But when sex is on the table…

“I guess I’ve always hoped…” I sigh. Am I really going to admit this out loud? To someone who’s practically a stranger?

“You can tell me.”

His arms rest on the counter. The bartender interrupts and takes our order.

I order a gin and tonic and Sal orders an old fashioned.

“I haven’t been on a nice date in a while.”

The admission is embarrassing and at this moment I wish I could crawl out of my skin and evaporate.

“Danny’s not the dating type.”

And I assume my boss isn’t either so when the bartender hands us our drinks, I stand and decide I should take it to find somewhere else to be a major bummer.

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