Page 80 of Snap Shot

Landon clicks his tongue and rejects the idea. “I have two-a-days then. And the boys are coming over for dinner and game night after.”

I scroll through the calendar on my phone. “We have a meeting scheduled for Monday.”

That signature smirk reappears through his brown stubble. He bends to me. “Are you suggesting we mess around at your office? How naughty.”

“That's not what I…” I gape at the playful suggestion.

“If you want to get bent over a desk, Indi, all you have to do is ask.”

My face fires up at the thought.

Landon's tongue pokes at his dimpled cheek. “You're thinking about it, right?”

“No, I'm not.” But it's too quick, too soft, too bashful of a denial.

“Soare.”

Hair shaking from my straightening shoulders, I attempt to retrieve some composure. It's impossible because Landon brings his mouth to my ear. “Is that what you want, Indi? To be ass-up while I pound into that untouched pussy?”

“No,” I choke out a squeak.

Landon's smirk turns completely sinister. “See ya Monday.”

Sweat beads across my nose and upper lip from how flustered he leaves me. I dab them away with a tissue from my purse in the cab on the ride home. Grateful for the silence the cabbie provides, I sigh. It's short-lived. My phone buzzes in my lap.

Gym Guy:My hand and cock are gonna be raw from remembering how you played with yourself on my couch.

Good. Great. I didn't really need a new fantasy to fixate on. As I exit the cab, I thank God it's pitch black out. And for easy-to-clean leather-covered seats because this dress definitely needs to be dry cleaned.

—————

My pen taps a point onto the next item on the list.

Clad in a stark white button-down and gray slacks, Landon scoots forward in the chair across from where I half-sit my ass on the edge of the desk.

“We’ll need text message records from your service provider.”

His hands wander up and down my extended legs, tracing the calf and teasing the skin with feathery strokes. I wiggle. It does nothing to stop him.

“Will you cut that out and pay attention?”

“How do you expect me to do that” —Landon halts the soothing contact as his palms reach the backs of my knees— “when you're wearing this tight skirt and these heels?”

“You can start by keeping those hands to yourself.”

He pouts. “I prefer you keepingyourhands onyourself.”

I smack his shoulder with my writing pad.

“The text records, Radek.”

A groaning whine emits through his frown. “There aren't any texts. I told you.”

“That's why we need them. To prove there is no basis for the alleged promises you made.”

“Fine.” He agrees with an exasperated sigh. “I'll have my PA send them over.”

“Thank you.”

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