by Lex Martin
“Jesus, Alyssa…” I try to even my breathing. “I can’t focus.”
She removes her mouth but continues moving her hand up and down. “What do you need help with, baby? Maybe I can talk you through it.” Talk me through it? Is she fucking kidding?
“I don’t think so…” I groan, her tongue gliding along the tip and teasing every single nerve in my body. “Fuck.”
I ball my hands into fists, trying to resist the urge to curl my fingers in her hair and pull her head back so she looks up at me when I come in her hot little mouth. Right as I’m on the edge of filling her throat, my phone beeps with Betty on the intercom.
“You have a visitor, Travis.”
Are you fucking kidding me?
“Uh…” I exhale, trying to catch my breath. “Not now. I’m busy.”
“It’s your lunch, asshole.” I hear Viola’s voice on the other end. Fuck, this can’t be good.
“I’ll be right there,” I say, pulling away from Alyssa.
“What are you doing?” she whines, licking her lips.
“You need to leave.”
“Seriously?” She stands, adjusting her skirt and top. “I cut out early on a budget meeting to come see you, and you kick me out before I’m even done?” She cocks a brow, and I know she’s pissed.
I begin pushing her out the door. “Never come in here again. We meet somewhere else,” I remind her of the rules. “You’ll get me fired.”
She tilts her head, rubbing a hand on my cheek. “Maybe this’ll teach you to stand me up.” She winks, grabbing the door handle and letting herself out.
I sigh in relief, buttoning my suit jacket. I’m about to go meet Viola at the receptionist’s desk, when I see her coming this way.
Oh, fucking hell.
“What part of ‘I’ll be right there’ got lost in translation?” I ask, knowing it’ll piss her off even more.
“Don’t start with me. I brought you your damn lunch.” She throws a brown bag at me.
“Would it kill you to be polite?” I tease, knowing asking Drew would lead to Viola at my office again.
Her eyes graze down my body and land on my groin. “Would it kill you to stop screwing every bimbo you come across?”
I glance down and see the tent I’m sporting.
“It would actually.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back toward reception. “I may or may not have added a little special ingredient in your sandwich. Enjoy the extra saliva,” she calls back over her shoulder.
I smirk. “I always do!”
She flips me the bird and turns for the elevators.
I laugh and shake my head. Fighting with Viola is the best foreplay I’ve had in a long time.
Once I’m seated back at my desk, I open the brown bag and grab the sandwich out of the Ziploc bag. It’s lumpy, and I’m even more hesitant to eat it.
What the hell?
I peel back one side of the sandwich and see she’s crushed up hot Cheetos on top of peanut butter, pickles, and sunflower seeds. It looks just as gross as it sounds.
But fuck it, I’m starving so I take a bite anyway.
Blake storms in promptly at four p.m. and asks if I have everything finished. Somehow, I just managed to complete the review minutes before he came in, so I proudly hand it over to him.
“All done, sir,” I say, giving him a cocky salute.
“Really?” He looks impressed, but I can tell by the way his jaw clenches that he was banking on me failing.
“Yup. It’s not easy having beauty and brains, but someone’s got to do it.”
“You’re full of shit.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Nah, man. It’s all there. Nearly killed myself to do it, but I didn’t want to let you down.”
“Or you wanted to kiss Mr. Crawford’s ass,” I hear him mumble, and I’m starting to sense some regret in his tone. “Okay, well, I’ll let the boss look it over and let you know how it goes.”
“Great.” I interlock my fingers and crack my knuckles. “Does that mean I can take a vacation day tomorrow?”
“Uh, sure.” I hear the hesitation in his voice, but I don’t question it. “I’ll let Mr. Crawford know.”
I begin packing up my stuff, eager to get the hell out of there. “Thanks, man. See you Monday.”
I have five and a half feet of fury waiting to curse me out back home. And this time, I might actually enjoy it.
Once I’m home, I start unbuttoning my shirt and ripping my belt off. I can’t stand being in these clothes any longer than necessary. I don’t see or hear Viola anywhere, although her car is parked in the driveway, so I pull my shirt off and pull my pants down before tossing them on the arm of the couch.
I walk to the kitchen and pull open the fridge to look for a beer. Once I find one, I twist off the cap and slam the door shut again. Just as I take a swig, a girl walks in, who is not Viola, and stops frozen in her tracks.
“Who are you?” I ask, fully aware I’m down to my boxers. Her eyes glass over before finally blinking and looking back up to my eyes. “Did you hear me?”
She swallows. “Yes, sorry. You just scared the shit out of me. Viola said her brother wasn’t home.”
“I’m not her brother.” I take another swig, roaming my eyes down her petite little body. “I’m the roommate, Travis,” I say, taking a step toward her. “You must be a friend of Viola’s?”
Before she can answer, I hear Viola stomping toward us. “Don’t touch him, Ash. You’ll catch an STD.”
Her eyes widen, and I’m pretty sure I see her friend take a tiny step back.
“I’m surprised you even know what an STD is, considering you’re a virgin and all.” I flash a wink at her when her friend isn’t looking.
She huffs. “I’m not a vir—gah, never mind. Fuck off, Travis. And put some damn clothes on.”
“I don’t think your friend minds.” I turn and smile at her. “Do you?”
“Uh…I…” she stammers, and a part of me feels bad I’ve put her in the middle.
“Didn’t think so.” I grin, walking past her toward Viola. “Looks like you’re in the minority, princess.”
I sit on the couch and click on the TV. I hear Viola speaking to her friend as they finish bringing in all of her shit. I glance back and see bags lining the floor.
“You realize you’re only staying here for a couple of weeks, right?” I shout. “No need to nerd up the place with all your Harry Potter books and capes. Wouldn’t impress my guests.”
“You’re an idiot,” she snaps. “And since when did you consider your one-night stands ‘guests’?”
I turn fully, facing her. Her cheeks are flushed, and I know it’s killing her that she has to be here alone with me. “You want to see how well I treat my guests?” I flash a crooked smile, knowing it’ll rile her right up.
“I wouldn’t let my worst enemy near you,” she fires back, narrowing her eyes at me. Fuck, she’s hot when she gets super pissed. All the more reason to push her buttons.
I tsk. “If you could keep them away that is…”
I turn back around just as she tells her friend it’s time to go. She whispers a few curse words, and I know this is going to be a lot more fun than I expected.
I can’t do this.
I can’t go back in there and be alone with him for the next two weeks.
But what other choice do you have? I don’t. I’m not going to stay with my mom or my dad. I wouldn’t go back, even if there was a zombie apocalypse.
Guess I’m just going to have to suffer it out. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be drunk while doing so.
“Listen, Travis,” I say immediately as I walk back inside the house. “There needs to be some house rules if you plan on torturing me while I’m here.”
“Most girls don’t mind the foreplay beforehand, but if you insist…”
“Ew, shut up. That’s number one.”
“What?”
“No more sexual innuendos. No talking about
your victims, either.”
He smiles.
“And clothes. Put some damn clothes on.”
His smile gets wider. “Anything else, princess?”
I groan. “No bringing them over either. Not while I’m here.”
“Yeah, right. This is my house, Viola.”
“Well, I don’t want to hear your nasty charades while I’m trying to study.”
“Put some music on,” he suggests, being difficult.
“I don’t want to walk out to some half naked girl while I’m trying to eat breakfast either.”
“Okay, so no sleepovers. That works much better for me anyway.” He shrugs.
God, he’s relentless.
“Whatever. If you’re having dates over, then so am I.”
He snorts. And then he laughs. The motherfucker laughs.
“What’s funny?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not telling a joke?”
“Screw you, Travis.” I grab one of my bags and throw it over my shoulder. Two can play this game.
After unpacking and organizing my things in Drew’s room, I grab my shower kit and some extra clothes. I plan to hide out in bed and study for my last day of class before break. I have exams in two of my classes, and although I've been studying for them all week, I'll use any excuse to avoid Travis.
When I finish rinsing my hair and body, I turn off the shower and squeeze the excess water from the ends of my hair. I pull the curtain back, reaching for my towels, and gasp when I realize they're gone.
What in the hell?
I look around and don't see my towels or any of my clothes, not even the dirty ones. Argh! Fucking Travis.
I step on the floor mat and dry the bottoms of my feet before walking toward the door and slightly open it.
“Travis!” I scream, covering myself with the door from the neck down. “Travis King!” I shout again, and he finally comes into sight.
“Yes, princess?” he asks in a smooth, calm voice. He takes another step toward me.
“Where in the hell are my clothes?”
His lips turn down. “How should I know?”
My eyes narrow at him. “Quit playing, asshole. Bring me my towels and clothes now!”
“And, uh…what if I don’t?” he challenges, crossing his arms over his broad chest and showing off his ripped biceps.
“I swear to God, Travis,” I threaten. “I’ll make you wish you never met me.”
He grins, pleased with how riled up he's making me. “What did you expect, V?” He crosses his arms. “You made me a delicious sandwich, and I just wanted to repay you.” He presses his palm to his chest, faking his sincerity.
I groan, my cheeks burning with anger. I know I'm not going to win this one.
Either I wait in here until he goes to bed or leaves the house, or I walk out butt naked, giving Travis King exactly what he wants—humiliation at my expense.
I think on it a moment, anxiety of wasting time in here instead of looking over my notes for International Finance Management. I mean, it's not like he hasn't seen a woman naked before. I just hadn't planned on him seeing me naked.
“Well, V…” he taunts. “What's it going to be?”
He knows I hate it when he calls me that. My body is shivering cold, but my insides are fired up, boiling.
“My name isn't V,” I warn, “for the hundredth time.”
“I think it’s a very fitting nickname, considering…”
“I'm not a virgin!” I snap out, seething, knowing he was about to say it. That's it. I'm walking out. I'm not listening to him anymore!
“Well, so you say but—” His words stop as soon as I whip the door open and expose myself. His eyes widen, although he tries to act unaffected.
“Fuck you, Travis.” I walk past him, flipping him my favorite finger, and head down the hallway to Drew’s room.
Chapter 5
Travis
Viola Fisher, President of Prudeville and Queen Perfectionist, has several tattoos, one on her arm and another on her thigh that I couldn’t make out because she was hustling down the hallway. My eyes widen, both shocked and impressed, and every comeback I had waiting for her vanished with a single look. I’m not usually at a loss for words, especially when it comes to rattling Viola, but all I can do is blink. As I stand paralyzed by the door, Viola prances down the hallway with water dripping down her perfect bare body as she flips me off.
She pauses in the doorway, not yet walking all the way through, and makes direct eye contact with me. “It’s rude to stare,” she bites out, her lips pinching together in a challenge; the slightest twitch depicts an evil grin forming.
I swallow, seemingly unaffected, but I won’t give her the pleasure of knowing that.
“Trust me, princess. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” I hold my stance with both feet planted firmly on the floor.
“You’d be much more believable if you wiped the drool from your chin first,” she remarks before taking another step and slamming the door behind her.
As the door clicks shut, I wipe my mouth and chin with the back of my hand. Dammit, Viola. She has my cock all kinds of confused because if I didn’t know any better, she enjoyed that just as much as I had. It responded to her more than I’d like to admit, but I can’t fault it for knowing a sweet little thing like her. I’ve seen Viola in swimsuits plenty when we were younger, but it’s been years since we’ve all gone swimming together. Clothes don’t do justice for that girl’s curves. She has a small dimple in her lower back, right above her ass—which is perfectly round and asking to be spanked. Her tits nearly stopped me in my tracks, so perky and taut. Her pink buds were hard at attention.
Fuck me. Now I’m completely hard. Standing in the hallway. Thinking about Viola Fisher’s bare curves and how it would feel to palm those tits of hers.
Drew pops into my head, knowing he would fiercely disapprove. Not because I’m not a good guy—let’s face it, I’m a catch—but because he knows my history, and he knows his sister. Nothing good would come of it. But I can’t help thinking about the possibility of shutting her smart mouth up once and for all.
Perhaps behind the textbooks and snarky comments, Viola Fisher has a secret wild side. A side I bring out in her, and I’m desperate to see it again. As I stand there, staring at her wet footprints down the hall, I think of my next move. If she wants to play, I’m all in.
I head to the kitchen and immediately reach for a shot glass in the cupboard. The images of her walking out of the bathroom, all gutsy and hot, are haunting me. She’s absolutely breathtaking, and now she’s found a way to pay me back for all those crass remarks I’ve said to her—not that I can really blame her.
Taking the bottle of tequila from the freezer, I pour myself a shot. I tilt my head back, pour the liquid gold in, and choke the burning down my throat until it settles in my chest.
Knowing Viola and her hatred for me, I know this means war. But I wonder if I really know Viola at all anymore. When we were kids, I knew everything about her, but now I clearly have a lot more to learn.
The Viola I grew up with loved daisies and putting peanut butter on everything. Her favorite season was fall so she could jump into the huge piles of leaves. Before all of her adult teeth came in, whenever she smiled, her top teeth would rest on top of her lower lip, which I, of course, teased her about.
I also know that certain things about her will never change. Whenever she really, wholeheartedly laughs, it’s so infectious that a whole room cracks up with her. I know she has freckles sprinkled across her shoulders and a mole on her left shoulder blade. Though she prides herself on being a know-it-all, sexual jokes tend to go right over her head. When we were younger, she used to throw punches like a boy and could run faster than Drew and me. But what about now? Who is Viola Fisher outside of her books and geeky Harry Potter references?
It drives me fucking insane that I genuinely want to know. I pour another shot because there’s nothing better than self-sabotage. I hear f
ootsteps behind me and turn to see Viola in a tank top and black leggings. Her wet hair is pulled up into a messy bun, her cheeks flushed. I lean up against the counter and raise an eyebrow at her.
“Hardly recognize you with clothes on,” I quip.
“Shove it, asshole.” She walks past me and opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. She opens the top and takes a huge drink, then places it on the counter. She goes quiet, but then after a moment, she stands on her tiptoes and reaches for a shot glass from the cabinet. Her body is so close to mine that I can smell her fresh, clean scent. She smells like strawberries and fresh rain. I watch her every move as she slides the tequila bottle closer to her, unscrews the top, and pours herself a shot.
“Shit, that burns.” She gasps for air, slamming the glass down on the counter.
“Have you ever been drunk before?” I find myself asking.
She shoots daggers at me, her fingers still wrapped around the glass. “Yes, I’ve had alcohol before.” She rolls her eyes.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Wait,” she says dramatically, her jaw dropping. “Is this stuff magically supposed to make my panties fly off while I trip and fall on your dick?” Her expression is completely serious, although I’m ninety percent sure she’s fucking with me.
“Well, I wouldn’t say fly off…” I tilt the corner of my lips up, enjoying this little battle we have going on. “But if you prefer being on top, I’m all about it,” I say smugly, knowing it’s going to boil her blood.
She makes a gagging noise and steps away. “In your dreams, King. I don’t need to fake an orgasm to know you’re all talk.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” I go on the defense, catching up to her when she walks to the living room. “There is no way in hell a girl has ever faked it with me. I have a one-hundred percent satisfaction guarantee.” I know I sound like a tool, but Viola is making me stumble on my own thoughts.
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head at me as she grabs the TV remote.