Page 27 of Snap Shot

Landon stands, hiding that broad chest with the panels of his blazer. Swiftest, smoothest button I've ever seen buttoned. Icannot be turned on by that.Confidence sags from my head. I lower my gaze.Aaaandthere's his plonker again. It's still posted against his groin, but now above desk-level.Gah!

“I'm sorry, but how do you expect me to trust you when you can't give me a little respect?”

“I—” Brain no worky.

“I'm out. Send the bill,” he grates through his teeth. “I'll sign the fucking check.”

The entire office comes to a standstill as he storms out, stomping through every turn to the exit. Was I too harsh or is he mad I didn't fawn over him?Hey, someone had to give Landon Radek a reality check and I'm not sorry it was me. Life isn't all fun and games and fucking pretty blondes against windows facing main roads.

If he's stupid enough to get caught, he probably deserved it. Buy some curtains or something, asshole. I bet if I was a man he would have listened and told me the whole story. It's like he doesn'twantto clear his name. I fold onto my desk with a sigh.

“No backing out,” Theresa's voice echoes in my head.

Blow me, Giachetti.

—————

Monday arrives too soon. Frustrated by how Landon ignored my calls and voicemails all weekend and growing bored of watching news clip after news clip and reading the same quotes on a bunch of different tabloid sites, I pack up my desk and decide a workout is in order. It helps clear my head. For a moment, anyway.

Tuesday is worse than Monday.

I typically don't let work get to me, but between Theresa popping her head in here every thirty fucking minutes to ask if I've gotten a hold of the client yet and Bea out sick with her annual summer cold, I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. On top of that, Cooke isn't picking up either. And the worst is I can't get the naked image of that stupid, big-dicked bastard out of my head.

By noon, the coffee urn is empty, I've stress-pooped five times, and my right eye twitches at the cadence of a strobe light. Even a Nutella sandwich doesn't boost the serotonin. I'm down to my last resort for relaxation.

As the office quiets for lunch, I peek through the door to watch for stragglers, then close it before shuffling back to my desk. The chair sinks under my weight when I lean over to unlock a drawer holding my personal belongings. I fish out a discreet satin satchel.

Ahoy, Captain Hook.

The palm-sized, c-shaped silicone toy rinses clean and pats dry without trouble. I return from the washroom to my seat and shimmy up my skirt. If Landon's gonna traipse about in my brain all day, I'll put him to work. Get him out of my system once and for all.

I switch the AirPods to a favorite chapter of a smutty audiobook, but what really helpsmove things alongis imagining Landon's full lips on my jaw, my neck, and chest, nipping and sucking the skin between his teeth. His rough hands scrape against my breasts, pinching the peaked nipples before grazing down, down, down.

I move the black lace covering the ladybits aside and shift under the desk, allowing the sleek Captain to slide past the exposed opening at the split of my legs. The bulbous end sits flush against the sweet sensitive spot inside as the outer lip makes contact with my tender and needy clit.

On my desktop, the phone app glows with fluorescent pinks and purples and I swipe across the screen, the intensity of the vibration and movement changing with the pressure of my fingers. My eyes close as the pleasure builds, head tipping into the back of the reclining chair. A shirtless Landon writhes above me, taut pecs and abs clenching with every roll of his hips. Shiver me timbers, Hooky.

My knees knock together as I squirm and whimper, tightening around the toy, a repeated refrain rasping from my throat. “Landon. Landon. Landon.” The position, the endless circles…being so close to the edge feelstoogood. Breathless and gasping, all inhibitions melt away when I top out with a shudder and one last sigh. “Landon!”

Amidst the best orgasm I've had in weeks, the desk bumps toward me, wrenching my eyes open. My lungs expand with a gulp of thick air as a shimmery blue gaze, divided between awe and lust, stares back.

Chapter 9: Dreams Do Come True

Landon

Monday is the laziest day. I'm too busy ignoring calls from Indi’s office, stuffing my face with the Twinkies from the bulk-size box I bought from Costco, and being annoyed my parents were right about apologizing.

The next morning, I nut up. “Ms. Davé, I'm sorry.”I fix the collar of a pressed shirt, clearing my throat and squaring off my shoulders while facing the full-length mirror. “My behavior was highly unprofessional.” A grumble follows as I unbutton the sleeves to roll them up my arms. “Sorry for my behavior the other day, Ms. Davé. I hope it doesn't affect our future professional relationship.”

My fly gets a tug up with a wiggle, freeing my balls from an inner thigh and opt for these sick black and white Nike Airhigh tops to push my feet into before heading out the door.

The parked Range Rover takes up too much space on the street, earning me some obscenities from passing cyclists as I jog around to the sidewalk. Someone leaving lets me into the ghost town remnants of the law office. I stroll through and recognize Behraz’s desk, despite its lack of strewn papers and food wrappers, but she's not there either.

“May I help you?” Judging from the lilt in her accent, she's Québécois. My head turns to an unfamiliar leggy brunette. “You play hockey, yes?” She smiles and flips her hair.

I hold back an eye roll. Sniff, sniff. I smell a puck bunny.

“Uh, yes. For the Regents. Landon Radek.”

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