Part 7

Mia couldn't help but remember the exact incident that led up to the following moment. Her cheeks flushed as she thought of previous night—the things she did in her drunken state.

The twenty-five year old looked at the camera to make sure it was aimed perfectly in between her thighs, and she reached a prodding hand to feel and make sure the blue jewel was visible. It matched her eyes and also the added colour will make the pictures far more delicate. That's what she aimed for.

She maintained her arch and grabbed for the remote, letting her other hand get lost in the sheets as the vibrator edged close enough to her g spot to have her wiggling for even the smallest amount of extra pressure. Mia's hand finally tensed around the remote, and she pressed the button without thinking much about a pose. 

As she's not sober, the Rossi employee didn't even bother to check for proper lighting. Her waist curved as far as it can go, and if the photo doesn't look great, it's alright. There's only so much she can do with the pressure at her clit. Mia was just out of it enough to risk a subpar photo, in exchange for not focusing on positioning herself much more.

Again she adjusted her position a bit and took more pictures. She wanted to have options for when she goes through the roll later. When Mia felt she'd got a sufficient amount of material to go through, she dropped the remote and clenches hard around the plug, loving the way it rubbed her just right.

Mia debated for a little, lazily moving her hips and enjoying the feel of the toy caressing her walls before she decided to go through the pictures. It'll help her choose faster, keeping her from lingering on small parts of her body she didn't like. Also, it'll make her climax that much stronger.

After giving herself a minute to stop her hips from moving so she can stand up, she waddled her way over to the computer chair, camera in hand. As soon as she sat in the chair, landing harshly, a hiss came out of her mouth at the way the vibrator jolted inside her wet cunt. 

Mia went through the pictures, deleting the ones she didn't like and adjusting the ones she does to make them look better. All the while, her hips were in constant motion, not ceasing on the pressure - the pleasure - the plug's giving her.

Deciding to just go for it, she chose one that showed off her curves as well as the blue jewel on the bottom of the toy, saving the file to her hard drive. That's when she was stuck with the realisation that Damon needed an agenda from her. Her face went red. Her boss would yell at her again in front of everyone if she didn't send him the agenda. So Mia knew that she had to mail him, so she hurriedly typed in, half of the words not even making sense as they were strung along and pressed the button. 

As soon as she's done with it, she made her way back to the bed. Mia rubbed one out, quick and dirty, and collapsed in a heap on top of the sheets. Slowly she eased the plug out, but didn't have enough energy to do much else.

Damon was far closer than he was before, and he had a firm grip on her arm to shake her off. She tensed. It's not too hard to cause bruising or genuinely hurt, but it's a persistent weight, and it made her want to lean into his touch. That's a scary thought.

Sure, for all the time she's worked for him, there've been some fantasies in which something like this happened, but being here in the aftermath of accidentally sending her boss a nude photo of her pussy with a jewelled vibrator wasn't one of them.

She stood up, turning towards him. "Sir, I can explain—"

"Can you?" He cut her off. His voice was rough, and his movements stiff as he shuffled in closer. "Its a bloody weekday and my day starts in twenty minutes. For some goddamn reason, all I have on my mail is a close up of your naked body with a blue plug vibrator stuffed inside. Can you explain that, Miss Grace?"

Mia was utterly mortified. She struggled to form an answer, but it proved to be useless. There's no way she can explain it to him without having to admit her stupid fantasies. There've always been daydreams in her head of Damon bending her over his desk, but this was humiliating and not of the same intrigue as her thoughts. She wished she could melt into the ground.

Damon backed away slightly, and she took the opportunity to try and take a deep breath. One that wasn't filled with his aftershave scent. It didn't work, not with Damons hands still holding her wrist and his voice booming in the background. "I asked you a question, Mia. Can you explain that?"

She winced. Her boss used her first name. That never happened before. It was the first time, and it scared her. 

"Uh-"

"What was that?" He cut her off 

A moment passed between them, and nothing happened. Mia let her heart rate settle before clearing her throat and trying to answer the question again. "It was an accident—"

Damon slammed his hands down on the desk, his eyes narrowed together, promptly cutting off her words. She gasped at the action, and while a part of her was scared to see him like that, she couldn't help but feel like screaming out in confusion and frustration because he wasn't letting her talk. 

"Accident? You should have known better than to make silly mistakes like this; Miss Grace" Damon gritted his teeth. "What if you had sent that to someone else from our office? An important client?"

He let go of her wrist, and she immediately missed the warmth. Shaking her head, she met his eyes. Mia was desperate, trying to hook up online with those explicit pictures. Also drunk. She thought that it would be fun. 

"I didn't mean to—"

Damon made a sound. "I'll tell you what Miss Grace. We can let this go—"

His phone rang, cutting him off. Excusing himself, he stared at the screen and let out a sigh. "Its Ben from the PR. I have to go now. I'll deal with you later." 

With that, he walked away, leaving her alone. 

***

Around lunchtime, Damon passed by her desk not even bothering to look at her. He had an hour before his next meeting, and she planned on taking full advantage of the situation. Mia wanted to apologise because the last thing she needed was an angry boss to write her off. That wouldn't do her any good.

Earlier when Damon left for his PR meeting without her, Mia sat alone at her desk as she answered calls and tried to do her work. It was far more complicated than she thought it would be. Her work managed to distract her for a while. Just because her body was feeling more relaxed, didn't mean that her mind was at ease.

Just the opposite. All she could think about now was the feeling of Damons hands on her body, prodding around and lighting her.

Taking a deep breath, she followed Damon into his office, notebook in hand for appearance's sake, and locked the door behind them.

Her boss knew that she was following him and into the room with him - he has to - but Damon didn't address Mia until he's sitting at his desk, files in a stack in front of him. 

"Can I help you, Miss Grace, or will you keep following around like a lost puppy all day?"

"Uh," She started, "Yes, sir." 

Mia didn't say anything else, not sure exactly how she wanted to phrase it. There's no proper workplace etiquette for asking your boss for an apology for sending a nude pic to him.

The silence stretched for a while before Damon raised his head. "What is it?"

"I was wondering..."

"What?" Damon prompted after she trailed off. 

Mia responded, quietly, just a mumble of a thing, and could notice her boss visibly irritated. "You'll have to speak up, Mia. And quicker, please. I only have a bit of time before my next meeting."

"I wanted to apologise, um," She cleared her throat, trying to make it easier. If only she weren't so damn awkward about it. "That was clearly an accident. I took those pictures for someone else then I remembered about the agenda and sent you the picture along with it. I am so sorry, sir."

Damon closed his file at that, a bit harsh than necessary before leaning back in his chair and levelling her with a look. "Is that right?" 

She nodded her head eagerly.

"Who were you sending those pictures, Miss Grace?"

Mia reddened, mouth slack open. "Excuse me?"

***