Chapter Twenty-Two (Shawn)

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Chapter Twenty-Two (Shawn)

After telling his friends that he was now engaged, everything went back to normal. Seeing sitting at his desk was a nice sight, especially since he was dressed like a french maid for today's dose of torture.

Part of my immature brain wanted to laugh my ass off with how uncomfortable he seemed to be. The other part of my brain, the one who was marrying him, wanted nothing more than to put my mark on those parts of his body that was open and accessible to my ministrations.

Just the thought of it got my pants to get tighter.

My hand picked up the phone and dialed the secretary's number. His phone rang, and he picked up on the first ring. The sound of his voice was like the first rain after the longest drought.

My dating life had been one long desert, dry and sandy without a single drop of moisture to even sample the feeling of sweet relief. Now, with Jameson in my life and with us being ready to be wed, I was finally getting the relief and moisture that I'd been craving for the longest time.

"Hello, Shawn Wiley's office. This is Jameson, how may I help you?" His voice over the phone sounded much cuter than I had ever anticipated.

"Please come into my office, Jameson." He nodded, knowing I could see him through the glass.

"I'll be right there." he hung up the phone and walked the three footsteps it took to reach the door from his desk.

His posture, walking into my office, was seductive. I got hard just looking at him, watching the way he moved. Everything about him grabbed my attention and held it.

"What do you need, Shawn?"Even the sound of his voice was making my pants tighter than they should have been.

"I have an errand for you." He nodded. He stepped over to my desk and I handed him the package. He took it and smiled at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and walked out the door with one look back that said, I'll be back to fuck you later. I nodded my approval and I was thrilled.

***

(Jameson)

God, that man sure knows how to get me hot and horny with only a look in my direction.

The package that I was carrying was like a manuscript. It was heavy and I could feel the papers moving around in the box.

Stepping out from Wiley Inc. was like opening the door to a car that had been sitting in the sun for hours on end. The heat blasted in my face and I cursed it silently. I didn't feel like taking an uber. The place I was supposed to go was only a couple of blocks away from here, so I decided to walk the short distance.

Halfway there, a bag appeared over my head, taking my vision and everything went black.

Why didn't I just take the uber?

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