Page 52 of Damaged Beast
“Ah, uh, the, uh, pens—“ He takes a step backwards, eyes bulging, twice-human-sized behind his thick glasses.
I grab one and toss it over. “Anything else?”
“No, no, thank you, Mrs. Spadaro.” He turns and runs off.
Guilt slams into me. Why the hell am I being a dick to that guy? Jonathan’s harmless like everyone else in this office. I don’t think any of them actually know the rotten depths of Prime’s operations. I’ve been looking at it up close for years and never really understood it until I married him and practically ripped it from his secretive chest.
There’s no reason to lash out at them.
It’s only my frustration with myself getting the better of me.
There’s more movement near the door. Probably Jonathan back for more office supplies. I turn, smiling, ready to apologize to him for being rude, but the words die in my throat.
Prime fills the doorway.
It’s a bizarre sight. Despite being the boss around here, he never lowers himself enough to come into the supply closet.
I doubt he even knew it was here.
I whirl around, cheeks burning, and punch the green button. It grinds and another copy spits out.
“Is this what you’ve been doing all morning?” His tone is playful. I instantly hate it.
“I’ve been working. You know, that thing we do around here?” I smash the button again. And again.
“Careful, wife, or you’re going to kill that copier.”
“What do you want, Prime?”
His hands clamp down on my hips. I yelp in surprise, try to twist, but he pins me forward. His body presses me to the copier, a tray digging into my thigh, his massive frame looming like a monster.
“I want you to stop avoiding me.”
“Get off, someone might see.”
“You want me to get off, do you, love? I’ll happily fuck and fill you right here and now. You think anyone would stop us? Pretty sure half the office would gladly watch.”
“Prime, stop it.”
“You’re avoiding me,” he repeats.
“Okay, yes, I’m avoiding you.”
I gasp as he tugs on my hair, pulling my head back. His mouth meets my neck. His lips nip and suck, kissing the soft skin under my chin. Desire burns into my core and I hate my traitor pussy for getting dripping wet despite how angry I am with my criminal husband.
“Is this because you found out I’m a monster?” He sounds amused like this is some big fucking game to him.
“No, but I mean, yes—“ I bite back a groan as his other hand moves around to cup my breasts. “We can’t do this here.”
“Should we go back to my office then?”
“Prime—“
“I’m not doing this all day with you, love. We need to clear the air and move on.”
I jerk back, slamming my ass into his crotch, or close enough. He grunts and releases me, giving me room to turn and face him. My heart’s ramming wildly as I lean against the copier, holding onto its edges. His hands move to my flanks, shifting around to cup my ass.
“How much of it was real?”
