Page 29 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
Sure, my mystery man and I have done a little sexting lately, but he never pushes for it. His conversations never start off like that’s all he wants, which is why I can’t help but be frustrated that I haven’t been able to see him in person again.
I slip my shoes off in the entryway of my apartment and flip the lights on as I go. My mind whirls as I toss my messenger bag into its usual spot on the counter and flop down on the couch.
It’s not like I didn’t know I wanted someone more dominant in the bedroom—my book collection is evidence enough of that—but I didn’t know how thrilling it could be to give a partner control in different areas of my life. My masked man hasn’t exactly laid out rules for me, and it’s not like he’s enforcing punishments or anything, but he’s certainly leading me in the direction he wants me to go.
Praise for keeping him updated, prodding questions when I don’t, and a sense of complete, effortless control and certainty no matter what he asks me to do.
It’s more thrilling than I could have imagined.
Riley: Home safe. Hope your meetings are going well!
I tug my journal across the coffee table, deciding to put some of these thoughts to paper while I wait for him to respond.
It’s been a while since I wrote anything in here aside from a stray fantasy or two, just stream-of-consciousness erotic ramblings, mostly starring Nick. Or nameless men who just so happen to share a striking resemblance to him. I let my mind stray as I write, scrawling out scenario after scenario, thoughts of muscledthighs and broad hands and wickedly talented mouths dancing across the page.
No names get written down this time, just desires. By the time my phone buzzes again, I’ve filled almost two whole pages.
Mister Mystery: Sweet girl. They are, but I’d rather be talking to you. What did you eat for dinner?
My stomach growls as if in response to his question, and I laugh softly as I flip my journal closed and type out a response.
Riley: I haven’t eaten yet, actually.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I send off another text right after.
Riley: Any suggestions?
It’s the first time I’ve handed the reins over to him without him making the first move, and even though it’s something as casual as asking for dinner ideas, it feels like a big step. I wonder if he’ll understand what I’m really asking for.
His response comes in quickly, and I lean back against the couch, giggling.
Mister Mystery: Looking for even more instructions, huh? Needy little thing.
Mister Mystery: Good thing I like making your choices for you. Order in. Get the lamb makhani from Patiala.
I should’ve known he wouldn’t hesitate. He’s always eager to tell me what to do.
And honestly, it feelsgood.
Riley: I’ll put an order in now.
It’s not often that I eat out, and even rarer that I bother to order in, but today has been exceptionally special all around. I got my own office on the top floor right next to Nick’s, my mystery man helped me get off on my brand new desk, and I’m exploring new depths of things I didn’t realize I’d enjoy so much.
I deserve to celebrate.
Mister Mystery: That’s a good girl. Back to meetings for me. Enjoy your dinner, Miss Morgan.
I order my dinner quickly before turning back to my journal, my heart and mind thrumming in sync with each other.
I’m going to be filling out quite a few pages tonight.
CHAPTER 9
NICK
“Are you seriously out of tequila?” Thomas calls from the liquor storage, his voice bouncing off the custom walnut shelves.
“Do you seriously need tequila to plan a fundraiser?” I shoot back.
