Page 55 of Reckless Hearts

“Why not,” I mutter.

“Solution one, you crawl under my desk on your hands and knees and swallow my cock while I fuck your face until I come down your pretty throat.”

Holy. Fucking. GOD.

“Or, solution two, you get out of my office, go find yourself a screwdriver somewhere, and solve the fucking problem yourself.”

He pushes his chair back from his desk and glances down at his crotch pensively before flashing me a malicious grin.

“Decisions, decisions.”

I purse my lips, my face throbbing. “I’ll be back.”

Forty-five minutes later, after trying to track down the nearest hardware store, which in midtown is about as easy as finding a taxi during rush hour, I’m back in the office with the new tool kit I just bought.

I ignore Deimos when he holds up his wrist and taps his gleaming watch like an asshole. Then I get to work.

Two hours—two fucking hours—later, I have exactly one chair and half of a desk assembled. I’m also sweating like a pig, even after I’ve gotten rid of my heels and stripped off my jacket. My hair’s a mess and sticking to the sides of my face as I groan and try to stretch out the kink in my back.

My eyes lift to the massive pile of boxes looming over me, and I groan.

This is going to take me a fucking month.

Yes, and your mother would have quite literally killed someone for her biggest hardship to be merely assembling furniture.

Fuck. I can do this.

I power through. I lose my sweaty silk blouse, stripping down to my bra and camisole, and even roll my skirt up a little more to give my legs some air and better maneuverability. I’ve shoved my hair back in a messy ponytail. I finish my second desk and third chair.

It’s only then that I realize the sun is already low outside. I glance at my watch and blink.

It’sfour.

I could cry. It’s taken me all freaking day to assemble two dumb office desks and three lousy swivel chairs.

“Now, I know they say Rome wasn’t built in a day…”

On my knees, I grit my teeth as I turn to glare up at him. “What?” I hiss, shoving a stray lock of hair that’s escaped from the ponytail out of my face.

“…but do you expect to be done this fiscal year?”

My jaw clenches as I squint angrily at him. “I’m trying my best, okay?”

“If that’s your best, I wouldn’t brag about it.”

“You aresuchan asshole!”

He sighs and shakes his head. “As soon as I hire an HR person, I’m reporting that, you know.”

“Go ahead!” I snap back. “But I’m really trying, okay?!” I turn back to the fourth chair I’ve been working on and angrily start to twist a screw into the back pad, my wrist screaming in agony from being used so much today. The screwdriver slips, and I cry out when it stabs into a finger on my other hand.

“Fuck!” I hiss, jamming the finger in my mouth and sucking.

“Well, I’m happy to see you’re multitasking, at least.”

“What?” I grunt around the finger.

“Putting the furniture togetherandpracticing being on your knees…” He smiles demonically. “Sucking.”

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