Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 9: The Phone Call

EMERY

Flecks of black ink stain my notepad as I tap my pen to paper, the gentle thudding noise acting like a metronome. The only thing I want to call you, Miss Jones, is mine. I can't stop thinking about those words. And the lips from which they came. That's the problem. Words. All the dirty, enticing, and debilitating words. I can't unhear them. I can't unhear his desires, his plans, his promises. They replay in my mind day and night. Like a filthy hymn sung by a fallen angel.

"Next slide, please."

A shiver courses down my spine as I remember his hand around my throat and the thrill it brought me. The thrill of being fucked. Really fucked. Like a beast. Like an animal that needs to be tamed. He could do that. I think he could do that. Oh, he could definitely fucking do that. Crossing my legs, I feel him against my thigh as if he's still touching me, taunting me, torturing me with all the wicked acts we could perform. He could be the ringmaster, and I, his little monkey. He could make me jump. He could make me crawl. He can make me suck and fuck and choke and—

"Excuse me, Miss Jones?" Shit. I snap my head up. The entire boardroom turns their attention to Halima as she lingers outside the office door with a sticky note on her finger. She gives all the senior partners an apologetic look. "Sorry for interrupting, but Miss Jones, you have a call on Line 1."

"I'm in the middle of a meeting," I state, clearing my throat. "Please take a message and tell them I'll call them back."

"I tried that, Miss Jones." Halima cringes. "They're rather persistent."

I sigh. "Is it Mr. Sayuri? I swear that man—"

"No," Halima peeps, "It's a Mr —" She checks the Post-It. "A Mr. Lush."

"Lush? Who is—" Immediately my eyes spring open.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Yes," Halima confirms, "He said that if you didn't answer he'd come down and—"

I abruptly stand up, fumbling to grab my notebook and pen off the table. "I'll take it in my office." Mr. Kenneth glares at me, unimpressed, from the head of the table. Uptight prick. "A potential client."

"Better be a big one," he huffs, annoyed that I'm leaving his precious quarterly review meeting five minutes early. "Well? What are you doing just standing there? Go, Emily!"

"It's Emery," I grunt under my breath before hustling back to my office.

He's calling me at work?! Work! This man doesn't have any boundaries. None! And we're shocked, why? True. I should've known better than to think our interactions would remain exclusive to the club. Idiot.

With sweaty hands, I sink down in my computer chair and stare at the blinking yellow light on the telephone. It's fine. Just be calm and collected. And horny. Can't forget horny. Shut up!

Taking a long breath, I pick the receiver. "Have you lost your damn mind?!" So much for cool, huh?

Damon chuckles in a low, velvety timbre, "Good afternoon to you too, Miss Jones."

"You shouldn't be calling me here," I state, my body physically reacting to the depth of his voice. What is wrong with me?! "This is highly inappropriate."

"Which makes it that much more exciting, no?"

"No." Yes. "No."

"Two nos?" He lets out a soft laugh. "That's a whole lot of resistance, Miss Jones. It's just a phone call. What harm could it do?"

"A lot, Mr. Lush," I say, tone sour. "God, you have some balls on you, Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Thank you," he says lightly. "My first compliment. I'll cherish this moment forever."