Page 27 of Dolls & Daggers
Everyone scatters like cockroaches under a flashlight. Cecilia and Sharon let out simultaneous squeaks, practicallyfighting over who will be caught holding the evidence.
Dove, however… She’s staring at the empty bag.
Her expression? Wide-eyed horror.
“Where did you get that?” she snaps, her gaze locked onto the offenders.
Cecilia and Sharon throw me under the bus with a silent, unified glance before bolting back to their cubicles.
Dove’s head swings toward me, her big blue eyes darting between me, her desk, the open drawer, and back again.
“Did you feed everyone Fang’s jerky?” Her voice is high-pitched as her expression twists in sheer disgust.
“Fang’sjerky?”
A slow, creeping nausea rolls through my gut, my stomach roiling in horror.
Our gazes lock. We both gag in unison.
“Oh my god, that’s fucking disgusting.” I scrub a hand over my face, hovering it over my mouth.
Dove laughs behind her hand, pressing it against her pouty lips.
Giggle. Gag.Giggle.Gag.
I inhale deeply, exhaling through my mouth, trying desperately to dislodge the taste of the dried meat without actually tasting it again.
“Do I even want to know what kind of animal it was?”
Dove seems to recover faster than I do. She leans against the doorframe, her giggles escalating into full-on guffaws that shake her entire petite frame.
“I can’t breathe!” she wheezes between gasping, maniacal-sounding cackles, completely ignoring my question. She clutches her chest, walking further inside, dropping her purse onto the cabinet behind her desk. “Serves you right. What are you doing in here?” she asks, sobering a little as she runs her eyes down my body, taking in the fact that I’m still sitting in her chair.
I think quickly, running my hands along the arms as I lean back, even though I still feel like throwing up into her pink, glittery trash can.
“Wanted to see how the other half lives,” I mutter. “Why is your chair so much nicer than mine?”
“Because I had it custom-made and paid for it myself, Songbird.”
She steps closer, her voice dipping into something silky. “Now scoot… unless you want me to sit on your lap while we review your article?”
I don’t remind her that she’s not my boss.
Mostly because Joe lets Dove do whatever she wants. And most of the time, she acts like she’s in charge because no one questions her.
She isn’t feared, though. She’s respected.
I don’t want to respect her, though.
I want to disrespect the fuck out of her.
I want to leave her a quivering mess, covered in my cum.
Her whispered words snap me out of my thoughts. “Keep telling yourself you don’t want me, Songbird.”
My breath catches. I barely register her leaning over me, hands braced on the arms of the chair, her lips near my ear.
Shit.
