“Alyssa…” I say, trying to control myself, but it’s a lost cause. The girl may be a complete airhead in the office, but her true talents don’t go unnoticed.
I swing my chair back toward my desk, needing to make sure she’s out of sight in case anyone barges into my office again.
“I love hearing you say my name…” she purrs, looking up at me. The look in her eyes tells me everything I already know. She thinks she has me wrapped around her little finger, and the more I give in, the more control I hand her. However, it’s too late to do anything about it now. Piss her off and I may as well piss away my career. “Sounds so much better on your lips than that bitch Viola’s.”
She wraps her lips around my cock and takes it all in her mouth, making me lose the words I was about to throw back at her. Mentioning Viola at a time like this only makes it worse. Now, I’m picturing her tits bouncing in front of me and the wetness of her lips.
“Shit,” I curse, unable to hold back.
She moans as she swallows and licks the corner of her mouth. “Mm…” She crawls in between my legs and adjusts her arms over my lap. “Now hopefully you won’t be so tense.” She puckers her lips out, begging for me to give her a kiss of approval.
“Alyssa,” I growl, tucking myself back into my slacks and zipping up. “I need to get back to work.”
She finally takes the hint and escorts herself out of my office, and I immediately drown myself back into my files. I work through dinner, even though I’m starving and tempted to ask Viola to bring me something, I can’t take another distraction.
Just after eight p.m., I check my phone and see Viola’s sent me a message. I half expect her to ask if I’m coming home tonight or some smart-ass comment about being out with another chick, but I’m completely at a loss the moment I read her message, You disgust me, Travis.
It’s attached with a picture of a dozen or so photos sprawled out. It’s hard to make out exactly what they are, but I recognize Alyssa’s long blonde hair and then when I take a closer look, see that she’s naked in them. What the hell did she do now?
I don’t have time to explain or to even hunt Alyssa down and ask her what the hell she was thinking, so I do the only thing I’m good at.
Stop being such a prude, princess. I remember a certain someone also posing naked in front of me, I reply before packing my shit up and heading out of my office. Today can kiss my ass. Blake is trying to wear me down, but I can’t let him.
When I get back to the house, all the lights are off, which can only mean Viola’s in bed already. No way she’d be out actually having a life or anything.
It’s completely silent and pitch black when I walk in. Not even a reflection of the TV is glowing, so I flip the hall light on and walk to the kitchen to flip a few more lights on.
“Viola?” I call out, but she doesn’t answer. I walk down the hall and see Drew’s room completely empty. I check my room, the living room, and bathroom. When I walk back to the kitchen, I notice the same photos from her message on the table.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, grabbing the pictures and analyzing them for myself. “What the hell is wrong with this chick?” I shake my head at the ones she printed out from the cameras. This is a whole new level of crazy I hadn’t anticipated.
I collect them all in my hand and go to toss them out when I see her handwriting on the back. Flipping them over, I read over them all and curse when I read Viola’s name.
“Goddammit!” I firmly brush a hand through my hair, my jaw ticking at the thought of Viola seeing and reading these. Where the hell is she?
I reach for my phone, still no reply from her, and decide to send her another text.
I’m home. We need to talk.
If I had known, I would’ve never sent that reply back to her. Now I feel like more of an asshole than usual.
After fifteen minutes and not hearing back from her, I decide to call her. It rings once before going straight to voicemail. Hey, you’ve reached Viola. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back!
“Viola, c’mon, I know you’re there. Get your ass back home. We need to talk.”
I hang up and immediately text her again. I saw the pictures. I’m sorry. Come back home.
I dig through the fridge and grab the box of cold pizza. I’m too worked up to really taste it, but I haven’t eaten in hours, so I take the last few pieces. I can’t even settle down enough to watch the ten o’clock news, so I just stand in the kitchen with a can of beer and an empty pizza box.