Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Which meant no more visits to the Rolling Dice. No more walk-bys or check-ins.
It was odd how much that bothered me.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. “In,” I called.
One of the servers came in with a tray.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“It was ordered in person,” he replied, sliding it onto my desk. “On your behalf.”
He left, and I studied the tray. My favorite Reuben and fries. A vanilla milkshake, tempting, the condensation glistening on the glass. And an envelope with my name on it written in a feminine hand. I had no doubt who’d sent me dinner.
I took a bite of the sandwich, staring at the envelope, curious as to the contents. Would it be scathing? Angry? Was she upset?
I barked a laugh in the empty room. Of course she was upset. I should probably man up and apologize. Assure her it would never happen again.
I frowned as a thought occurred to me. She wasn’t going to quit, was she?
My appetite gone, I set aside the sandwich and wiped my fingers. I tore open the well-sealed envelope and scanned the contents. I had to blink and reread it. Twice. Even then, I could barely believe what I held in my hands.
Pictures, printed onto a simple page of white paper.
Vi frowning at the camera.
I have needs.
Written under it.
Vi glaring.
You left me.
A picture of a shopping bag.
I took care of them.
A picture of the contents of the bag. A dildo.
A final picture of Vi smiling, lying back on a pillow.
Much better.
I stared at the paper, unsure how to react. Then I began to laugh. The minx was trying to get me all riled. I had to admit the thought of her using the dildo ramped me up. Part of me wished she had sent me pictures of that, but I knew she was smart enough to know where to draw the line.
I sat back, rubbing my lips, letting my mind wander. I could imagine her on her sofa, those long legs spread, working the dildo between them, her free hand playing with the hard nipple of her breast. I wondered if she whimpered, moaned, or cried out. If she was loud or quiet in her gratification.
If she whispered my name as she came.
My cock swelled, hardened, thinking about it. Picturing her pleasuring herself, I stroked myself, shutting my eyes, imagining it was me between her open legs. My mouth on those hard nipples. My cock buried in her heat, possessing her. I stared at the pictures of her. Angry, smiling—either way, she was sexy. I wanted her.
She had taken a huge risk sending me this. I could call her to my office and fire her. Ream her out for crossing the line. Except, I’d done it first, kissing her and walking away. This was her payback, and I had to admit, it was good. So calling her in here to yell at her or fire her wasn’t what I wanted to do.
I wanted to fuck her.
I was certain she knew, if given the options, which one I would choose.
I pushed back from my desk, knowing I had to take care of myself.
Then I had a purchase to make.
This game was on.
CHAPTER 8
VI
Iwas jumpy all night at work. I had no idea what had possessed me to send Aldo that note, but I was angry over him leaving me all juiced up and needy. Needy for him. On an impulse, I stopped at the adult store and bought the vibrating dildo, then snapped some pictures. It worked well but left me wholly unsatisfied—not that I would admit that to him. I wanted him to think he was nothing to me, since it seemed I was nothing to him.
I was almost disappointed when my shift ended and I didn’t see him. I wasn’t sure what I expected—for him to show up and drag me back to the supply room and finish what he started? Call me into his office and yell at me? Fuck me on his desk?
I’d take the former if I got the latter.
My only worry was that I had crossed a line and might lose my job. Except I had a feeling that wouldn’t happen. I had seen the desire in his eyes. Saw the way his gaze lingered. Even Wanda had casually mentioned she noticed him checking in on the deli more often these days.
I hoped it was because of me.
I arrived home, tired. Weary from the suspense and slightly disappointed at his lack of response. That was one thing I hadn’t counted on. I was certain he would react. I opened the door and went in, shedding my coat and dropping my sweater on the back of the sofa, stopping at the sight of the bag on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living space. It hadn’t been there when I’d gone to work. I walked to the counter slowly, looking around. The room was empty. The door to my bathroom was open, and it, too, was vacant. You would have to be tiny to fit in my closet. It was the only storage, and it was full.