Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (Fixed #5.5)(7)

Fuck, he was charming. Incredibly charming.

I sighed to myself.

After glancing around once more to make sure no one was watching, I stood up just long enough to slide my hands up under my skirt and hook my fingers around the elastic band of my lace panties, then I pulled them down my legs and past my heels. Wadding them into a ball, I handed them to him.

“Here. Remember, you promised.” And then because I’d always been a little bit spiteful, I added, “To think—you could have had a blowjob. And I give awesome blowjobs.”

His eyes were still wide, and my panties were still bunched up in his hand when I heard the door open behind me.

I shot up off the chair, moving as quickly as I could to be a barrier between the people behind me and the man holding my underwear.

“If you need anything else, Mr. Sinclair, do let me know,” I said, maybe a little too loudly. “But it seems Mr. Pierce is ready to see you now.” With my back still to my boss and Mr. Stoker, I indicated with my eyes that Mr. Sinclair better hide his trophy ASA fucking P.

I needn’t have worried. He was as smooth as he was charming. Mr. Sinclair stood and stuffed the panties into his pocket with his left hand at the same time he reached his right hand out to shake Hudson Pierce’s.

“Nathan,” Hudson said in greeting. “You found me. Glad we’re finally meeting to do business. Come on into my office. Patricia, can you make sure Mr. Stoker has copies of the latest Q3 reports before he goes?”

“Of course, Mr. Pierce.” I scurried off, grateful for a task to focus on. I hurried and gathered the items Mr. Stoker needed and saw him off, trying not to dwell on the tall, dark, handsome man behind Hudson’s door, trying not to wonder what he was going to do with the panties now in his possession. Hoping beyond hope that I could trust him.

Though somehow that wasn’t really a worry. I was pretty sure that I could trust him. Something about that grin, that dimple, the fact that he could have asked for so much more from me in exchange for keeping my secret—all of it said that he wasn’t out to ruin me.

It was me I wasn’t so sure I could trust. I could barely concentrate on my work before he’d shown up today. How was I supposed to concentrate now that he was here in the office? With my panties in his pocket?

How was I supposed to concentrate now that I was sitting at my desk with absolutely nothing covering my bare pussy but my A-line skirt?

Thankfully, the phones started ringing, and I soon had enough on my plate to keep me busy while he finished his meeting behind closed doors. An hour later when he walked out with Hudson at his side, I’d almost managed to convince myself I was fine.

Almost being the key word.

“Patricia, please set up another appointment for Mr. Sinclair next week,” Hudson ordered, and my stomach lurched. He was coming back?

He was coming back!

“Of course.” I brought up my calendar while the two men said their good-byes, hoping if I worked fast, he’d have no reason to linger after Hudson went back into his office.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite quick enough. Hudson left, shutting his door behind him just as I finished saving the new appointment for the creative director in the computer.

“Would you like me to email you a reminder, Mr. Sinclair?” I was busily making myself a reminder to call in sick that day so that I wouldn’t have this whole jittery flustered thing to deal with again.

Of course, then I wouldn’t see him again. Was I ready for that? My hand hovered over the “send” button, unsure.

But then the ridiculously handsome not-so-strange-stranger leaned close and said, “I won’t forget. I’m looking forward to it. As shall you.”

“I shall?” I was under his spell. Captivated by his beautiful eyes.

“Yes. Because on the day that I return, you are going to tell me what I did with your panties.”

“I am?” My voice was so breathy, I sounded like I was starring in a porno.

“Yes,” he said again. “Which means you have nine days to think about it. Nine days to get it exactly right.”

I meant to tell him there was no flipping way I was going to keep playing kinky games at work, even if it meant he’d spill my secret and get me kicked out of the Open Door.

But he was gone before I could remember how to speak.





Chapter Three



I skipped the Open Door party that Saturday night for the first time in a long time, not because I wasn’t feeling well or because I didn’t want to go, but because I was afraid I might see Nathan Sinclair.

His parting words to me had been so tantalizing, so scintillating, it put me on edge for the rest of my week. Instead of feeling like I was the one who held the power with the man who’d only once walked in and out of Hudson’s office, I felt topsy-turvy. I obsessed, I fantasized, I daydreamed every minute my mind had to spare. I thought about Nathan holding my black lacy panties in his fingers, imagining new scenarios about what he could’ve done, would do—even what he might possibly be doing at that very moment. Was he smelling them? Was he fingering the lace in his pocket while he addressed someone else in the office? Did he put them under his pillow to sleep with?

There were too many possibilities. One fantasy repeated. It was the one story that I kept coming back to when I touched myself, the one that I planned on telling him when he returned.