Before I left the office, I checked in on a few projects, returned some e-mails and made a few easy calls. Throwing myself into work was the only way I could get Kylie's tortured eyes off my mind. Her visit threatened to pull me into a dark place, and I couldn't risk it.
Emotions serve no purpose. They muddy the water and force stupid, irrational decisions.
Emotions mean mistakes, and I couldn't afford any of those in this situation.
I called HR, let them know that Kylie quit, and requested her file. They gave me her e-mail address, so I decided to send her a note. If nothing else, I hoped to smooth over any animosity toward me or the bank and buy myself some time.
Kylie,
I wanted to follow up on our discussion this afternoon. Thank you for trusting me with the information you shared. I assure you that I will do everything in my power to investigate your claim, but can't make any promises.
Additionally, I have contacted the Human Resources Department as you requested and informed them that you no longer wish to be employed by the bank.
As I said in our meeting, I would like to discuss this matter further. Please don't hesitate to reach out to me or my assistant, Beth.
Best,
Andy
After I hit send, I knocked back a few glasses of scotch and scribbled down a basic action plan before calling my car. Slumped in the back, I prepared for anything when I reached the apartment.
'We need to talk' was just as precarious as 'there's a crying girl in your office.' And, Allison was unpredictable on the best day.
The familiar glow of the lobby brought comfort as I walked toward the elevator. After a smooth, uninterrupted ride, the doors opened to an eerily silent apartment.
Except for the glow of city lights outside and a lonely light above the kitchen sink, the apartment was dark. Everything was exactly as I left it, and the stillness set my teeth on edge.
Perhaps this was one of Allison's little games. She liked to get me worked up—anxious—to heighten the mood. That made sense. After all, she left me hanging earlier—something I wouldn't let her forget once I got my hands on her.
I tiptoed around the apartment, listening for any trace of her. On the way to my bedroom, I heard a low rumble coming from the office. I took a few short steps to the door and heard a male voice—my voice.
My heart stopped.
She was playing one of my audios.
At once, my life flashed before my eyes.
My reputation. My family. My livelihood. All ruined if she shared my little hobby.
Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad, but it would certainly cause a scandal. At the minimum, it would damage my credibility, leaving me at a perpetual disadvantage.
Fuck that. No way I would let her do that to me.
I set my jaw and crept closer to the door. It was open just a sliver, so I raised a finger to edge it open.
The only light came from the computer screen, and Allison's silhouette was outlined in its fluorescent glow. Her long body stretched across the top of my desk with one leg dangling over the side and one leg bent at the knee. Her hand was planted between her thighs, back arched and head tilted back.
I slid into the room, closer to the figure fucking herself on my desk. As she came into view, I saw the gold chemise draped across her body, one strap hanging off her shoulder revealing the contour of her erect nipple.
In real-time, I saw her body reacted to my voice. When the audio increased in intensity and pacing, her fingers ran faster across her crease—she was so fucking wet I could hear it from across the room.
Rage morphed into arousal as she pleasured herself to the measure of my voice.
"Come for me," my voice demanded and she gasped. "Come for me, you little whore."
I was fully in the room—only a few steps away—when she saw me, unfazed by my presence.
In a show of defiance, she sat up and turned to face me, legs wide and eyes full of lust when the voice commanded again, "Come for me."
Our eyes locked, and I nodded.
Allison slid her fingers in and out, across her lips. Overcome by need, she leaned back on her elbows and rocked her hips, her breath coming in short bursts.
She was close.
I took two, slow steps towards her and she sat up, still working between her legs. I hovered over her, close enough to touch her but I didn't.
I dropped my head to her neck and inhaled. The smell of her sex enveloped me and stiffened my cock. One hand trailed down the curve of her shoulder until it reached her wrist, the one tucked tightly between her legs. I wrapped my hand around it and pulled her fingers to my lips, tasting her essence.
She sat up straight and angled her body toward me. I let out a little chuckle before rubbing my cheek against hers. Then, I tightened my grip on her wrist.
"None for you, little girl."
Allison leaned back, eyes wide. She tried to pull away, but I held on.
"You enjoy my work?" I asked, jerking my head in the direction of the speaker.
"Don't I always?" she said, indignant.
I loosened my grip and guided her hand back to the surface of the desk, holding it in place. I lifted my other hand to her chin and turned her face until her eyes met mine.
"I wish I could say the same. Your performance this morning left a lot to be desired."
"I thought that was the point? To be desired."
Now, she was pissing me off—on purpose.
"You seem to have forgotten who's in control, princess. I control your pleasure, not the other way around."
Fuck. She drove me insane. Her scent, her provocation. Her wild, fucking eyes. Everything I needed to rid myself of this bullshit day, right there between her legs.
I sure-as-fuck needed to let off a little steam, and, apparently, she was a willing outlet.
But, first, I had to make sure she was ready to play.
"My body is simply crazy with wanting you," I said.
Her eyes lit up and the corners of her mouth broke into a wicked grin. She responded, "If you don't come tomorrow, I don't see how I can wait for you."
That was our little signal, how I made sure she was ready for playtime. I know, it's some "crow flies at midnight" bullshit, but it ruined the mood if I asked outright. So, she picked a few lines from an old, love letter she read in college.
"Good," I growled. "Now, stand up and turn around."
She did as I asked, the strap of her nightgown still dangling off her shoulder. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, but a few unruly curls floated around her bare neck. I coiled one around my finger and let it loose, before running my hand across the length of her neck and down her spine.
"It's dangerous for you to be snooping in my office, princess."
I heard her take a breath—preparing a defense— but I cut her off.
"Don't say a fucking word. I'll use your mouth when I'm ready. It seems as though you need to learn a lesson." I slid the other strap off her shoulder and let her gown slip to the floor in a golden puddle at her feet.
"Step out," I demanded.
When she stepped to the side, I kicked it out of the way and unfastened my belt.
"Put your hands behind your back."
She complied, and I bound her wrists.
"We wouldn't want your hands to start roaming again, would we? Now, bend over on the desk and turn your face toward the edge."
When she did as I asked, I bent down, my face level with hers.
"I think you need a little reminder about your role around here."
I stood up and stalked around the helpless specimen, naked and vulnerable. Anticipation flooded over me, my senses locked into the moment and nothing else. She was a thing of beauty, to be sure, quivering and shaking with want.
