by Jamie Knight
Good Pet
His Pet Series Book 5
Copyright © 2019; Jamie Knight and Erik Evans
All rights reserved.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Melissa
Chapter Two
Melissa
Chapter Three
Tommy
Chapter Four
Melissa
Chapter Five
Tommy
Chapter Six
Tommy
Chapter Seven
Tommy
Chapter Eight
Melissa
Chapter Nine
Tommy
Chapter Ten
Tommy
Chapter Eleven
Melissa
Chapter Twelve
Tommy
Chapter Thirteen
Tommy
Chapter Fourteen
Melissa
Chapter Fifteen
Tommy
Chapter Sixteen
Melissa
Chapter Seventeen
Tommy
Chapter Eighteen
Tommy
Chapter Nineteen
Melissa
Chapter Twenty
Tommy
Chapter Twenty-One
Melissa
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tommy
Chapter Twenty-Three
Melissa
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tommy
Chapter Twenty-Five
Melissa
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tommy
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Melissa
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Melissa
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tommy
Chapter Thirty
Melissa
Chapter Thirty-One
Melissa
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tommy
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tommy
Chapter Thirty-Four
Melissa
Chapter Thirty-Five
Melissa
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tommy
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Melissa
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tommy
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Melissa
Chapter Forty
Tommy
Chapter Forty-One
Melissa
Chapter Forty-Two
Tommy
Chapter Forty-Three
Melissa
Chapter Forty-Four
Tommy
Chapter Forty-Five
Melissa
Chapter Forty-Six
Tommy
Chapter Forty-Seven
Melissa
Chapter Forty-Eight
Melissa
Chapter Forty-Nine
Melissa
Chapter Fifty
Tommy
Chapter Fifty-One
Melissa
Chapter Fifty-Two
Tommy
Chapter Fifty-Three
Melissa
Chapter Fifty-Four
Tommy
Chapter Fifty-Five
Melissa
Chapter Fifty-Six
Tommy
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Tommy
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Melissa
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Melissa
Chapter Sixty
Tommy
Chapter Sixty-One
Melissa
Chapter Sixty-Two
Melissa
Chapter Sixty-Three
Melissa
Chapter Sixty-Four
Tommy
Chapter Sixty-Five
Melissa
Chapter Sixty-Six
Tommy
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Melissa
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Tommy
Epilogue
Melissa
Sneak Peek of Office Pet
Chapter One
Melissa
Not born a woman of habit or routine, I’ve become one.
I’ve changed just about as much as a woman can change.
I’ve become more responsible, more committed to a “career” and to what I can make out of my life than I ever was while I was in school or at other times in my past.
And on days like today, where I’m waiting for my boyfriend to call me before I head off to another great day at work (how many people can say that, am I right?), I get to thinking about how my outer world is a reflection of my inner one.
I live in New York, in a rather swanky part of Manhattan and in an even swankier condo. It’s one I bought with my own money, and furnished with the finest, most modern furniture I could find.
It’s all sleek and fun to look at, but it’s also comfortable. One of my most favorite pieces is my computer desk and chair combo. It’s curvy, and black, with silver designs and it’s the perfect match for my high-end laptop.
All of this is a far cry from how I grew up, and from where I was just ten years ago. I was in London, England, and in a less than desirable part of town.
I know that London sounds romantic. It always does to Americans or people who haven’t grown up there.
Yes, for sure, it’s beautiful. Yes, for double sure, it has history unlike anywhere on the planet Earth, but like all things with history, that’s not always a good thing.
Sometimes it’s a reminder that things aren’t what they should be, or that they could be better than they are. Very often, it’s not worth holding onto the past.
History can chain you up and hold you prisoner to it before you even realize that’s what happened. This is one of the reasons — aside from not being able to get a job in my home country — that I ended up coming to the United States, and ultimately, to Manhattan.
I wanted to broaden my horizons. I wanted to go someplace with a different kind of history and a different vibe. A place that was wider open or more unpredictable.
At first, my parents weren’t thrilled at all with my moving to America. Especially since that move was necessitated by the fact that I couldn’t seem to get any employers in London to pay me much attention.
My father kept going on about how my education should’ve gotten me more opportunities. My mother kept going on about how that education was one of the best in the world and that America, of all countries, should not be the country to profit from it. She wanted me to stay in England, where she said I belonged.
But I couldn’t turn down the job at McKenzie Technologies ten years ago. There was just something about it that yelled at me to apply.
A little voice in my head said, Apply for this now, Melissa. Or else you’ll never get your chance to see outside your own backyard. So, I followed my gut and applied.
To my complete surprise, I was not only offered the job, but Kane McKenzie, the CEO of the company, agreed to pay for my moving costs. Kane even paid for the first month of payments for my new condo. It was that act of kindness that helped me work for a man who has become one of my best friends.
My entire family- my mom, my dad, and my two brothers- were just as critical as you would expect. They didn’t encourage my dreams but instead all they did was repeatedly list all the reasons why I shouldn’t go. Over and over, they repeated why I would do so much better in London
if I just applied myself a little more, acting like the problem was with me rather than with scarce job opportunities in the area, but my mind was already made up and my heart was already set. I already knew I needed to go work for this company — McKenzie Tech. And so, without my family’s blessing, I moved here.
I set up my life here slowly but surely, and now I’m not just “scraping by.”
I’m thriving in my professional life.
Now, if I could only do the same in my personal life.
A little over a year ago, I met the man of my dreams. Dennis was different than the CEOs and rich men that I was surrounded with in my work life. He rode a Harley and often wore a leather jacket. The bad boy vibe was too much for me to resist.
So, I fell madly in love with him, even though, a few months into our relationship, his work moved him to Paris. He remains committed to me, despite the fact that in the last year, I’ve never flown out to France, and he’s never come back to Manhattan to visit me.
We’ve been doing the long-distance thing, over our computers. Which is why I’m sitting in front of mine right now, with the video-chap program open on it. I’m waiting for him to call — even though it is night in his time zone — as is our routine. We usually have this phone call at the beginning of the week, and then one on Friday night. That one is where we get a bit more intimate and dirtier.
Even now, my heart is racing while I wait for him. I’m smiling just thinking about seeing his face and hearing his voice. But I’m also getting a little worried, too. Dennis is running a little late. A lot later than usual.
I take a moment to drink my tea. It’s not the usual green, red, or black variety. It’s a special caffeinated variety derived from particular tea leaves only found in the Amazon, or somewhere like that. Probably more like some of the regions of South America, but I don’t really care. All I care about is that it gives me my morning boost of energy without too much sugar or calories.
As I sit there sipping on my tea, listening to the early-morning sounds of birds and commuter traffic outside my window, I take a moment to reflect on all my good fortune and on how much McKenzie Tech has grown.
Back when I started, it was just mostly accounting. It’s grown astronomically since then. Due to all these new partners that have joined, and then mergers with financial and consulting companies.
That’s a new thing that started happening within the last six months to a year. Actual whole companies, merging with us. This means I have tons more work to do as one of two secretaries to the CEOs.
But it’s good. It means a lot more hours for me and a lot more time to talk to my best friend and fellow secretary, Isabella, who is the secretary to Ashton Smith, the second CEO.
I smile again, thinking about all the good things I get to tell Dennis when he calls. Now that I think about it, I have a lot of good news to share with him and a lot of things I think he’ll be happy to hear.
If he ever gets on to have our little video chat, I think irritably, looking at the clock.
He’s now over ten minutes late.
I know he has his own routine, but this is ridiculous.
Part of me is getting more irritated by the second, but another part is beginning to get anxious and nervous.
Unless…unless, he forgot.
This thought is truly an unsavory one. Both because I don’t think that Dennis would ever forget, but also because if he did — if he wasn’t able to keep his word — then that would be a sign that something more serious had happened — something out of his control. I don’t like those kinds of thoughts.
Those are the kinds of thoughts that make me sometimes regret his move to Paris. I always have a part of me that fears that something will happen to Dennis while he’s away. Like I will lose him to something, or someone, and I will never know what happened because I’m thousands of miles away.
But, as if my knight in shining armor heard my worried thoughts halfway across the world, I suddenly see Dennis’s screen name pop up. I, and my heart, give an audible sigh of relief seeing him there and knowing that he hasn’t forgotten.
I giggle a moment later when an incoming call from him pops up on my screen. The video of Dennis shows up immediately after the moment I hit the “accept incoming call” button.
He’s just as handsome and rugged as I remember. He’s still got his breathtakingly-blue eyes. Ever since the night I met him, I’ve had the same thought. His eyes were fashioned from one of the big sapphires in King Louis XIV’s collection. That’s how deep and sparkly the color is. It’s like nothing I have ever seen on another man.
What makes his eyes even bluer and more beautiful is the long, shiny locks of black hair flowing around his face. Though he’s in what looks to be a fairly normal t-shirt and sweater combo, his hair is allowed to fall in wild waves — like the fashion model he is.
But his face, oh my God! Though I’ve looked into those eyes, surrounded by that beautiful mouth and nose, that delicately strong chin, thousands of times, it never ceases to steal my breath, and my heart, away.
It’s his voice though, the deep gruffness of it in conjunction with his looks, that has the most effect. It makes me melt for him, even though he said nothing more than “Good morning” to me. That simple greeting really warms me up. It hits me in just the right spot. I’m breathless, and it takes me a moment to connect to my brain.
“Thank you, my love. And the good evening to you!” I look at him, just happy to have him to look at.
I lean forward, spying a bit of wine next to him — probably his after-work glass. We always used to do that together when we got home from the office.
Some of my friends used to tell me that I could just stay home and be his “wife” and not worry about keeping a job of my own, but I didn’t want to be that dependent on him or that helpless. Plus, I like my job and I have career ambitions I don’t want to throw away.
“Have a good day at work?” I ask him.
Dennis nods.
“It was okay,” he says. “Busy. Ridiculously busy for what is supposed to be a Monday, the first day back from work, but I guess that’s what you get when you are in as much demand as me.”
I laugh, unable to tell whether he’s proud or irritated by that fact. Tellingly though, he doesn’t join in. Dennis doesn’t even crack a smile when he hears me giggling. And that usually does it for him, especially if he is having one of those “bad days.”
Chapter Two
Melissa
Dennis just sighs. He gives me a scowl unworthy of anything I’ve done and says, “You wouldn’t be laughing like that if you had to do a job like what your bosses have to do.”
I’m so surprised by his gruffness, his meanness, that I actually sit back in my chair and put my hand to my heart.
“You’re just a secretary. You don’t really know how much work everything else is.”
“Dennis!” I pause, unable to get myself to think or speak for a moment.
I’m not used to him being so short-tempered, and over such a little thing like a giggle.
“You're so mean right now!”
I pause again, searching his face for a good reason for this behavior. I want to see some indicator of what or who could have possessed him to act this way.
“I wasn’t trying to make light of what I see now is obviously a very difficult day for you, sweetheart.”
I lean further in, feeling fragile. Not only because he still looks upset with me, but because I’m starting to feel guilty. I feel bad for having a little laugh since my boyfriend obviously felt it was at his expense. Not because I thought he was adorably flustered-looking or anything like that.
“And there’s no reason to bring in my job into the conversation like that! I know it’s not the same as yours, Dennis, but it’s not not work!”
I shake my head vigorously after I say this, wanting to get out of this confrontation. A fight has no business starting between us this early in the game, or this early in my morning.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t know why you’re so grouchy, honey, but let me make it better, hmm? Let me tell you how sexy you look; how handsome you are. How lucky everyone at that agency is to have someone like you working for them.”
I pause, seeing some of his irritation soften.
“And when I laughed like that, it wasn’t at you, honey. It was just because I thought your face was so cute when you said what you said about not knowing whether it was a good or bad thing that you were so busy.”
He stares at me, saying nothing, with his lips pulled down in a tight scowl.
“I was looking forward to talking with you, Dennis.”
I sigh, looking at him like my most precious jewel.
“I’ve been waiting anxiously this morning to talk to you, wondering where you were, worrying about why you were late,” I add, hoping he hears me and knows how much I love and respect him.
“I was late because of all that work I was telling you about,” Dennis says finally, although this time, he doesn’t sound angry.
He sounds a bit depressed. He looks a bit sorry as well, or regretful. About what, I’m not entirely sure. My mind immediately says it’s because he snapped at me, and I accept that faster than I should.
“I’m sorry I was running late. And I’m sorry that I got after you like that.” He takes another sip of his wine and then brings his hands up through his long hair. “It was unfair of me, Melissa. Forgive me?”
“Of course, I forgive you, my love,” I say, eager to get away from those unhappy feelings of mine.
There are dark rims I can see around his eyes. I see some odd darkness around his lips and cheeks as well, but I don’t say anything about it. I’m just happy to be talking with him, and I just want our time to stay good and loving. I’ve waited long enough this morning for it, after all.
But, as I look at my clock, I realize I am running out of time.
I need to be off to work soon.
Dennis looks like he doesn’t deserve my easily given forgiveness. He seems reluctant to accept it.
He pulls away slightly, but before I can read too much into it, he says, “Thank you, dear. Thank you for being so understanding. I really, really appreciate it.”
He blows a kiss at me, through the screen.
Believe it or not, I actually feel this on my lips, as if he actually kissed them instead. I immediately flush, and my pussy starts to ache for him.