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Christian catches me doing something I shouldn’t.
I think it might have been his plan all along.
Finding Mandy in a compromising position in my office was a nice surprise.
Am I getting in too deep with Mandy?
Secret Pet is a full-length standalone secret baby office romance novel. Jamie Knight promises to always bring you a happy ever after filled with plenty of heat. And never any cheating or cliffhangers!
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I have a pretty big secret. It’s the kind of secret that I never want my bosses to know about. The kind that could get me fired on the spot and — that is a big AND — cause me to die of embarrassment. I can’t get caught, but I also can’t stop doing what I am doing. It’s become addictive.
I know that my office building at McKenzie Tech is filled with cameras and I know that the big boss is always watching. His wife, Reese, is one of my best friends and she told me there are cameras in almost every room in the building, except for the bathroom — Kane McKenzie isn’t that much of a lurker.
What I didn’t tell Reese is that I know there are no cameras in the basement. I know, because I have looked…extensively. That is one of the advantages of being the low man on the totem pole in accounting — and no, I’m not referring to my height of only five foot. Yes, I am short. Get over it.
As the lowest associate on the accounting floor, it’s my responsibility to file all the hard copies of the paperwork. I’ve been at McKenzie Teck for two years, and I am still in the same job. I don’t ask to move up. I have turned down promotions. I could use the raise but not to the point that I can give up my daily secret that comes when I go downstairs — alone — to file things.
About two weeks into my job when I started here, I noticed a sanctuary in the building, a darkened, unfinished area of the basement, where no one goes, and it’s quiet and cool. I took it upon myself to explore this area. In my head, it became mine. My special, secret area for…well…release.
I wouldn’t call myself a sex addict. I’m more of a connoisseur for fine vibrators. I’ve been looking on websites and trying to find my favorite for years—since my last relationship ended, with a bang. A few months ago, I totally lucked out when my other best friend, Eileen, got married to a guy who owns tons of adult toy sites. Now I get discounts to help with my addiction.
A bright pink rabbit showed up this morning in my mailbox. Knowing exactly what it was, I dumped it into my oversized purse and lugged it to work. It’s a quiet day in the office. Eileen is gone on vacation. Sloane, our new accounting manager, is sticking to her office like she is on a deadline. She isn’t, but sometimes Sloane gets anti-social. So, it’s just really me and the other accounts sitting in our cubicles and typing away. Enter a number here, enter a sum there… the usual.
It isn’t even lunchtime when I get the hankering. My pussy starts to ache, and I know I better slip downstairs to try out my new toy. An orgasm would perk my day right up. Better than a cup of coffee.
So, I start my usual routine. I gather up all the paperwork I can find, thrust the box with the vibrator under the pile and hurry to the elevator. No one around me even looks up. It helps that I do this every day.
I’m humming casually when the elevator dings on the basement level. Being careless — and with my mind on one thing — I dump my pile of papers on the first filing cabinet in the records room, put the vibrator box under my arm and stroll as quickly as I can to the unused area. My sanctuary.
The lights don’t work so I didn’t bother throwing the switch. I just relax as I step into the darkness. There are a few tables, desks and chairs stored down here. But the old conference table is what I seek. It is big and wooden and stable. I run my fingers over the wood then climb up. Sitting cross-legged on the table, I open the box and pull out the vibrator. It is long, a good nine inches, wider than the normal rabbit and has a little butterfly attachment that vibrates too. I love all the sweet details.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t the way I prefer things. I would love to have a man instead of a toy, but men are cruel, and I am out of the dating game, permanently. It would take a miracle for me to get back into a relationship after what my last boyfriend pulled right before I started here. Even thinking about him makes my stomach roll. So, I don’t think about him at all. Or I try not to.
Instead, I fantasize about the guy who was standing in front of me at the coffee shop this morning. He was tall with broad shoulders and a butt like a soccer player — round and tight. I like a good ass on a man, gives you something to hold onto when they’re on top.