Page 21 of Pretty Broken Doll

“Oh, stop. You’ll love it,” KC laughs. “There’s a costume party, and I’ve got the sexiest outfit planned.”

“I highly doubt I’ll love it,” I grumble, tugging at my hair with clammy fingers. “Pretty sure it’ll suck because me and crowds don’t mix. Learned that lesson the hard way when I showed up to my high school graduation and Bobby Crawford pantsed me in front of everyone to prove I wasn’t a guy, which I am. And everyone saw it because I don’t wear underwear. I don’t wear underwear, Kansas.”

There’s a beat of silence where I can feel both of their eyes on me, and I duck my head, biting my lip to stop the word vomit that wants to spill out. They don’t need to know how I ran off the stage with my pants around my ankles and tripped down the stairs onto my bare ass. Or how everyone laughed. Even my dad.

KC exhales slowly. “Well, we won’t let that happen again, will we, Tina?”

“Hell no. Promise. And since it’s a costume party, you can wear a mask if it makes you feel safer.”

That…actually does make it seem better. Anonymity and all that. If something goes wrong, nobody will even know it’s me. I even have the perfect cosplay to wear.

Even though my instincts are screaming at me to refuse, make up a lie, or run for cover, I find myself speaking before I can stop.

“Fine. When and where?”

Ryann

The goddamn boy is trying to kill me.

Shifting in my seat, I try to stay present as one of our analysts discusses quarterly budgets, but one—it’s fucking boring.

Two—this meeting isn’t supposed to be for me, but a certain PA put it on my schedule.

And three—said PA is killing me.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks now, and Shilo’s been a thorn in my side. If he’s not purposefully messing shit up just to fuck with me, he’s keeping me distracted by putting things in between those soft lips. Pens, paperclips, his thumbnail. He seems to need his mouth filled constantly for someone who doesn’t eat much, and it’s driving me insane.

“Shilo!” I bark, realizing that I’m thankfully on mute. “Cut it out, or I’ll give you something else to suck on.”

Shilo jumps in the chair across from my desk, blue eyes widening as he gapes at me. “W-what?”

His bottom lip is shiny from spit, and I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to wipe it off with my cock. Jesus Christ, I’m hard.

“Take the thumb out of your mouth.”

He squints incredulously but obeys, a flush turning his cheeks pink as he drops his gaze and focuses on his notes, hiding behind purple waves. That bothers me just as much as the thumb chewing, only in a different way.

“What are your thoughts on that, Ryann?” The analyst asks, and I focus back on my screen with a frown. Fuck if I heard anything he just said.

Unmuting myself, I clear my throat. “I’ll have my PA make a note for Declan, and he’ll send a follow-up email when we’ve discussed everything.”

Did that sound professional? God, I hope so because Shilo now has a pen in his mouth, and I’m about ready to lose my mind. It’s been so long since I’ve fucked, my balls are aching.

The analyst, whose name I cannot be assed to remember, nods before moving on to his next topic. “Now, about last quarter’s profit margins. I think we have some areas for improvement.”

Kill me now.

As he launches into numbers, I try with all my strength to pay attention, but once again, my gaze slides over to Shilo and that damn pen. The way his lips mold around it like two soft pillows, warm and inviting, with just the right amount of suction—

Fuck.

“Shilo, come here,” I command, rolling my chair back as I spread my legs.

His head snaps up, eyes flashing as the pen leaves his mouth. “Why?”

Suspicion layers his tone, and I give him a stern look. “Because I said so.”

Scoffing, the brat scoots his chair farther away from my desk before crossing his arms. “That’s not a good enough reason.”