KELSEY
Fuck, that was close.
...
Who am I kidding? HE FUCKING SAW ME!!!
And uttered my name too...
"Oh, finally! I thought you fled already--" team leader Holden pauses when he notices that I'm holding nothing but a crumpled up post-it note in my left hand "where's the coffee, intern? Don't tell me you got lost! I mean, who gets lost these days? And please, no excuses. Nobody's lost in K&S. Yes, this company is a bit cult-ish--"
"I'll be right back with your coffees, sir."
Taking the fattest fucking breath I've ever breathed, I hit the stairs amidst the rabid drag racing in my heart. Thirteen staircases don't make me run out of breathe as much as Roy Killigan in the elevator did.
It seems that all Roy Killigan has been doing is making me run out of breath ever since I've met him, which is truly pathetic, because I thought I was supposed to make him run out of breath. And no, I didn't mean that as another 'old' joke. I think I'm done with my age-shaming days.
As I tip-toed and sneaked my way through the lobby with my senses wide awake from all sides, I thankfully made it to the coffee shop on the back. I swear I glanced over my shoulder and darted my eyes around the place like a billion times. I looked like I was about to steal something precious.
As soon as the cashier handed me the coffees, I grabbed it and climbed up 13 staircases once again because I've had enough of elevators for the day. Or the week. Weeks.
After basically sliding the coffees to each desks accordingly, not paying attention to any of their "thank"s or "oh, that's not what I drink"s whatsoever, I plop down to my assigned desk for the first time and open up the computer taking a whole 15 minutes and a bunch of help from poor but lovely Lindy.
And then, I do what I should've done a long time ago. A long, long time ago.
CLICK!
Benjamin Royce Killigan, or Roy Killigan, (born 1976) is a businessman, most well known as the co-founder and CEO of K&S Technologies.
I cannot believe this shit. Can you believe this shit? 'Cause I sure as hell cannot!
"Co-founder...?" I mumble under my panting, my fingers trembling over the keyboard as I type one alphabet every 3 seconds and try to piece it all together.
So, basically, Roy Killigan is Gage's business partner?
I don't know why, maybe because I'm officially out of my mind? Because the next thing I do is break out into a witch-y laughter, which makes Lindy jump up with a gasp and Mr. Holden drop his white mocha latte with half a shot of espresso onto the floor. Oops.
"What, huh? Did you decide to ruin my life on the first day of work, intern? Huh?!"
Mr. Holden's screech is muffled into the background as I press my hands against my face and try to come up with a way to pull things back into the surface. I don't get it! There's more than 7 billion people on this planet, and yet, why did the one middle-aged guy I decided to allow to take me to pound town HAVE to be my psycho stepdad's business partner? It could've been anyone else, literally.
No, I don't have the time to think about how Roy Killigan and I are fated or whatever the fuck. Because if there's one thing Roy Killigan and I are, is...
I sigh. I realize that the solution to my ongoing problem is obvious and simple, but I was just throwing a fit and acting like I couldn't tell.
Roy Killigan and I are not meant to be. We're a disaster. We could cause the worst kind of avalanche in each others' lives. If Gage found out about us, he would obviously kick me out and ruin the possibilities of me ever living a normal life. And, this would definitely cause a huge rift between him and Roy as well, which would be insane because they're both the founders of this big ass company!
But then again, Gage-- being the fuckhead that he is-- would probably rather remove me from my existence for good and pretend to not have a single clue about the whole thing just so he can keep running his company smoothly with his business partner. That'd be a lot easier, indeed.
And the latter seems more feasible in case of Gage. That motherfucker would finally have the best excuse to have me killed.
"Uh, Kelsey, are you okay? You don't look fine..." Lindy's kind words causes a rupture in my disorderly bubble of thoughts.
"Oh... I'm..." I clear my throat and take a brief glance at the pink mirror that's placed on Lindy's desk. I look like I've been bit by a bee. Rubbing my temples, I force a smile "I'm... okay. It's fine. Did you want me to do something for you? I can deal with papers!"
Mr. Holden's shadow looms over me instead "You're not on that level yet, intern. Replace my latte!"
***
The rest of the day went fairly fine. I made another safe coffee run, made sure to look over my shoulder another gazillion times while in the lobby or the corridors, avoided the elevator at all costs, carried cardboard boxes full of A4 papers from room to room and other physical labor. Maybe Gage made sure to inform my supervisor that I was zero brains and 50% brawn. Mr. Holden said he'll make me print out PPT slides for the upcoming meeting on Wednesday. I was in too much of a hurry to head home, so I forgot to ask him what the fuck 'PPT' stood for.
Later at night, I exchange a couple texts with Sierra. It seems that she's too preoccupied with her sugar daddy Lewis Beauforte's dick pounding her, so her texts look like she's typing with her tongue instead of her fingers. I just give her a sweaty smile emoji, say that it is no big deal, and try to sleep with my pillow pressed against my face. I couldn't tell her about the Roy Killigan thing.
And I can't sleep for the rest of the night, no matter how tired I am from a whole day of office work that I never thought I'd be participating in until two days ago.
No, instead of sleeping, I think about Roy.
It's crazy, really. Why the fuck am I thinking about Roy? I never thought about any man while trying to sleep. In fact, I don't think I've ever thought of a man in general. Why am I so hung up and flustered about a 50-something guy with a monster dick and a Greek god's body?
It's like I can't stop replaying the things he'd purred into my ear three nights ago. I hear them in my dreams, but then I scoff and wake right up in the midnight in cold sweat. I can't stop replaying the image of his face, his expression, the glistening sweat dripping from his skin and the lustrous look in his eyes as he'd claimed me whole and pumped my kitty with his hot white cum.
Unintentionally, purely unintentionally... I reach my hand down to the emptiness between my legs and somewhat occupy the void with three of my fingers. They don't compare to him, of course-- not even his tongue-- but... when I have him in my thoughts while my eyes are closed, I can already feel myself kicking closer to an orgasm.
Rubbing my thumb over my swollen clit, I gasp and moan, kicking the blankets away as I touch myself. I hike up my tank top to squeeze my breasts, imagining his big callused hands coddling them the way he did, his rough thumb squeezing and motioning over my hardened thick nipples.
"Roy..." his name leaves my lips with a puff of air "Roy, please... Put it in me..."
Just like that, with only a couple more touches and the erotic sounds of his name lingering on my lips, I cum. I cum once more. The bed sheets underneath me are spoiled with my juices, areas wet and splotchy with my releases.
At one point, with my fingers still buried inside me instead of his 12-inch cock, I fall asleep.
I'm a lost fucking cause, aren't I?
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