Lethia gripped the dinner knife tighter than necessary as she spread pineapple jam over her toast. Her sharp eyes locked onto Zeran, who sat across from her, predictably absorbed in his damn tablet again.
How could he leave her like a used toilet paper last night? Just like that?
Every nerve in her body had been on edge with need, and in the end, she'd had to finish it herself. But it was empty. There was no climax, no satisfaction, just a hollow ache she couldn't soothe.
And what made her knuckles turn white now was that the bastard in front of her had let it happen on purpose.
How the hell did he even suppress his own urge? Pills? Or did he stroke himself off in secret?
Lethia pressed the jam down harder, imagining running the knife along the length of his cock just to watch him beg her for mercy.
"I want to resume my role as executive aide. You can't lock me up in here forever, can you?" Lethia demanded, chewing her over-jammed toast with defiant crunches.
