Page 41 of Boardroom Sins

Right now, though, patience is in short supply. I want to cum so badly I could fucking drool.

My hand moves faster. Pre-cum leaks from the tip.

I imagine her spread out beneath me. Those cheap cotton panties pushed aside, my fingers inside her, working her open. She’d be tight. Fuck, she’d be so tight.

“Mr. Lazarev…”she’d whimper. Even then, she wouldn’t dare say my first name. Not without permission.

I grunt. My hips jerk up into my fist.

She’d break so beautifully. Her eyes would squeeze shut and she’d make terrified little noises, like she was overwhelmed by what her own body was doing to her. Little gasps and moans she couldn’t hold back no matter how hard she tried.

I’d pry her mouth open and tell her to let them loose. Let themallloose.

I’d make her cum on my fingers first. Then my tongue. Then my cock. I’d ruin her for anyone else.

The orgasm hits me like a fucking crowbar to the gut. I spill over my fist, onto my shirt, not caring about the mess. My whole body shudders with it.

For about ten seconds, there’s nothing but release.

Then reality crashes back in.

I’m sitting alone in my dark office, covered in my own cum, having just jerked off to a woman young enough to be my daughter.

I reach for a handkerchief and clean myself up. I tuck myself back in, refasten my belt. But it’s when I reach for my drink that I see something I hadn’t noticed when I first sat down at my home office desk earlier this evening.

It’s a photograph in a silver frame, tucked behind a stack of files. The glass is shattered. A note from housekeeping is tucked beneath it.So sorry, Mr. Lazarev. We will replace the frame.

I pick it up carefully. A shard of glass bites into my thumb.

Elena looks back at me. This photo is from before everything went to shit.

I still remember watching as she took her last breaths. The light in her eyes fading away, replaced by the dull sheen of death. I remember standing over her as she left this life for good.

I set the photo down. Blood from the cut on my thumb smears across the broken glass.

If I needed proof, here it is: a ghost from my past warning me to stay away. Rae needs to stay off-limits. I’ve already crossed too many lines.

I reach a decision. I pick up my phone and dial. The call is answered almost at once. The conversation is brief. I place the orders for Monday morning.

When I hang up, I look at Elena’s shattered frame one more time and sneer. She died so easily in the end. So fucking easily. I barely had to lift a finger.

Then I open the bottom drawer of my desk, the one where I keep things I don’t want to look at but can’t bring myself to throw away, and I stash her there. Elena goes back where she belongs. Face down, buried, sealed.

The drawer slams shut hard enough to rattle the vodka bottle. Then I sit there in the dark, listening to the rain, bleeding onto my ruined shirt.

Monday will come.

Things will happen.

And Rae Everett will learn exactly what kind of man she’s working for.

13

RAE

RAE'S WORK NOTES - Monday, 14:22

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