Violet's POV
I brought the book to work again. I was that stubborn. I couldn't resist the thought of keeping it away from me and letting my thoughts live in my head alone.
I told myself I would leave it in the bag today. I told myself I would actually focus on work and finish the quarterly report. Conviction. That was all I needed.
I arrived at work and the first person I saw was him.
Damian.
He was standing by the glass conference room with two of the senior managers, listening to whatever they were talking about. When his eyes flicked in my direction, I looked down too fast, cheeks already warm, breath unsteady.
I walked straight to my desk, sat, and opened my laptop like a responsible adult.
I opened the quarterly reports I had to work on, and for the first ten minutes, I was focused. Maybe because he was still hanging around, speaking with the senior managers, or maybe I just became more serious.
I went on for another eleven minutes, becoming more focused and less distracted by the dirty diary I had in my bag.
Then suddenly, it slipped off—all the self-control I'd managed to put on. I slipped one hand into my bag and gently pulled out the book.
My body felt drawn to the diary. My mind kept forming dirty scenarios in my head to push me further.
I took out the book, ignoring whatever convincing thought kept coming to me.
The pages from last night were still slightly discolored from where I’d come on them. I could still smell myself faintly on the paper if I leaned close enough.
I brought out the book properly and started reading from the beginning of the newest entry, even though I already knew every word.
"I keep thinking about the way your hands look when you roll up your sleeves…"
My thighs pressed together under the desk. I kept my face carefully blank, eyes moving over the lines like I was reviewing notes. Anyone walking past at that moment would suspect nothing close to what I was actually doing. That was the point. That was the entire filthy thrill of it.
"I want you to bend me over your desk. The big one with the glass top so I can see my own reflection while you fuck me…"
I shifted in my chair and felt my panties cling to my pussy tightly. I knew it. I was already wet. Again. Like my body had simply decided this was its new default setting around him.
I should have closed the notebook when I got to that stage. That was the proper thing to do.
Instead, I turned another page and kept reading, slower this time, letting every sentence sink deeper into my head.
"I came last night thinking about your cock. I had three fingers inside myself and still felt empty…"
My free hand drifted under the desk, stopping just at my lap. My breath had turned careful and calculated through my nose.
I glanced toward the door of his office. It was open. He was at his desk now, head bent over something, pen moving.
I stared at him for five full seconds that felt too short, hoping he'd notice me. He didn't. Instead, his head was still bent over the same thing he'd been studying.
I scanned around to see if anyone noticed me and dropped my eyes back to the notebook.
My clit throbbed as I pressed harder with my hand and felt myself clench around nothing. The words on the page blurred for a second. I blinked my eyes back into focus and kept going, greedy for the parts where I’d completely lost control.
The cum stains. The shaky handwriting. The last line written while I was still twitching.
"I hope you find this. I really fucking hope you do."
A soft, helpless sound left my throat before I could stop it.
I was so focused on the page that I didn’t hear the footsteps until they stopped right beside my desk.
“Violet.”
My entire body went rigid.
I knew that voice. Low. Calm. Controlled.
I slammed the notebook shut so fast the sound echoed sharply across the floor.
My hand was still under the desk. I yanked it back into my lap like I’d been caught doing something far worse than reading.
Which, in a way, I had.
I looked up, my hands instinctively rushing to brush a strand of hair off my face.
Damian stood at the edge of my desk, one hand resting lightly on the surface, the other holding a thin folder. His expression was unreadable. Dark eyes moved from my face to the closed black notebook under my hand, then back again.
I couldn’t breathe properly.
“You’re supposed to be working on the Q3 numbers,” he said. Not unkind. Not warm either. Just factual. “I need the revised projections before eleven AM.”
“I—yes. Of course. I was just…” My voice came out thinner than I wanted. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I was reviewing some notes. I’ll have them to you in twenty minutes.”
His gaze dropped once more to the notebook. The leather was slightly shiny in places where I came on it the previous day. I hadn't noticed until this exact second how obvious it looked under the fluorescent light.
He didn’t comment.
He dropped the folder on the corner of my desk, close enough that the edge of it touched the notebook.
“Twenty minutes,” he repeated. Then, quieter, almost thoughtful: “Try to stay focused.”
He tapped my desk twice, slowly, and walked away.
I sat frozen until he disappeared into his office again. My heart was beating so hard that for a second, I actually thought I'd die.
My pussy was soaked, throbbing, aching with a sick rush of arousal that came with almost being caught.
I stared at the closed notebook.
Then I opened it again.
Just one more page.
Just long enough to read the line about wanting him to make me say every filthy word out loud while he watched my face.
My hand slipped back under the desk.
This time I didn’t stop at the entrance of my gown.
I was still touching myself, fingers sliding through my own wetness, when I heard his voice again from the doorway of his office.
“Violet. My office. Now.”
I froze completely.
The notebook was open on the desk in front of me, cum-stained pages on full display.
And he was looking directly at it.