Page 124 of Mine

Instead, I sat back down in my chair. My really expensive chair, at my even more expensive desk.

Then, I propped my heel on the edge, sliding my fingers over my silk panties. Fuck, I was wet. I grabbed the phone and opened my camera, hesitating.

Two…

Was I really going to do this?

“Fuck,” I whispered.

I pulled the thatch of lace to the side and took a picture of my pussy. I sent it to him and waited.

My skin was clammy. Everyone was right outside my office. I was supposed to be working.

Take them all the way off. Touch yourself. Film. Send. I want to see how wet you are.

“Damn it.” My breath caught.

Aren’t you still in the building?!

Yes. In your ex-husband’s office.

I don’t think he likes me very much. If only he knew the truth…

Fuck. My pussy throbbed in response. There was something sowrongabout this. It turned me on in a way that made me want to call Salt to my office and ride his cock on my desk.

Take them off. Leave them off. Show me how wet you are. Now.

The threat went straight to my cunt. I called him every curse in the book as I carefully took my panties off. What was I supposed to do with them? I tapped the red recording button and showed him that I was balling them up and putting them in my bottom drawer. Then I turned the camera around.

A soft moan escaped as I pushed a finger inside myself, showing him everything.

“Oh god,” I whimpered.

I added a second finger, sliding them in and out. Imagining him watching me. Commanding me. He was forcing me to do this in my office in the middle of the work day, making me into his slut.

I shivered as I stopped the recording and sent it to him. My blood roared in my ears as I waited for his response.

A knock at the door nearly gave me a heart attack. I threw my phone in my desk drawer and jumped up, adjusting my skirt and self. Fuck. My face was so red.

The doorknob twisted, Jeff’s voice echoing from the other side. “Pepper? I need to grab the contracts for him to look over. Did you print them off?”

I wanted to scream. I marched to the door, unlocked it, and yanked it open. “Jeff, Scott has them,” I snapped. “He’s the fucking lawyer, remember?”

His eyes bugged out of his head. “Jesus, what’s with the?—”

“Do I look like the person that prints off contracts for this company?”

“Well, no, but?—”

“Then go to the person who does.” I slammed the door and locked it again.

His shadow lingered beneath the door, but eventually he walked off. I raked my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes, trying not to think about the fact that I could have been caught just now. I could have been caught sending a video of me fingering myself for the twenty-five-year-old songwriter sitting in my ex-husband’s office.

That only turned me on more.Why?

I stared at my desk with my hands on my hips. I could hear my phone buzzing in the drawer.

“I should ignore him,” I whispered to myself.

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