Love Bytes (2 page)

“You and me both,” he said, stirring his coffee. “If it weren’t for football—”

“You’re a football genius.”

“I do okay.”

“Your fantasy football, my parents and our first software offering have been keeping this thing of ours alive, but that’s about to run dry.” She heaved a huge sigh, blowing curls off her forehead. “I just need to duck and dodge until we win the contracts.”

“Stop worrying. The end run betas are reporting good results. We’re in the home stretch.”

Her black-lined eyes regarded him over the rim of the cup. “I hope so, Francis. If not…” She let the sentence trail off and she sipped more of her coffee, gazing off into the distance.

“Vee…” He wanted to assure her that everything was going to be fine.

“If all else fails, we’ll still be friends, right?”

He pretended to consider her question. “I guess I could stand it.”

Violet put her coffee cup down on her desk. Her voice was quiet. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to work with over the past months or so, but—”

“But I’ve been working with you for almost two years and you get better with age.”

“I’ve stepped on a few toes.”

“Who hasn’t?” He gave her a slight smile, amused at her concern about what others thought. “You’re not getting soft on me, are you?”

Violet shook her head, the hard shell she wore falling back into place. Leaning back in the chair, she gave him that familiar snarky smile. “Soft? Not me. Not ever.”

Chapter Three

The wind whipped through her mass of curls, reminding her that she’d left her cozy wool hat at home. January had been cold, colder than she’d ever experienced and it was leaving its mark as it wound down. She pulled her scarf around her face and walked into the office building, leaning against the driving wind that made her eyes water.

In the lobby, she paused to take a breath and glanced over at the little café that had been closed since August. A forlorn, typed sign that read “Coming Soon” was a hopeful little beacon taped to the inside of the glass door. She hoped something was coming soon. Perhaps there wouldn’t be a rent hike on their office space next year.
If
they were here next year.

Her sneakers made no sound on the burgundy carpet of the hallway and but squeaked on the rubber treads on the stairs to the second floor. When she thought about how late she was, she bit her lip to hide a secret smile and squeezed her elbows tight to her body to control the jumpiness that had nothing to do with the frigid temperatures outside. Francis would not be pleased.

Violet eased the wooden conference door open and tried to be unobtrusive as she slipped along the walls to her seat near the head of the table. Sliding into the upholstered seat, she dropped her messenger bag under the table and pretended that she had been there since the meeting had begun twenty minutes earlier. She pasted on an expression of engagement and she pulled her journal out of her bag.

A quick glance around the table told her that things were looking good: There were no downcast gazes or nervous looks between the developers. That boded well. She turned her attention to Francis, who was enthralling his audience with the skill of a snake charmer. He didn’t give her a second glance even as he continued to bring the rest of the staff up to speed on what was going to be happening for the month. She smiled to herself. In less than a month, they would be competing for a lucrative educational software contract. Their product was good. She knew it and everyone in the room knew it. They were almost a shoo-in for the win.

“We’re pretty much done,” Francis said. “The beta testers are satisfied, and any tiny quirks of the program that still need to be worked out will be done well before the end of the month deadline.” Francis sat back in his chair.

Violet swiveled her seat and scribbled more nonsense into her journal. To her horror, she’d drawn a heart, which she scratched out. Valentine’s Day. She was being brainwashed by the stores and television commercials. It was pure media manipulation trying to make her fall for sentimental pish-posh. A grin stole across her face. She should buy one of those drippy, sentimental cards for Francis. He’d get a good laugh out of it, for sure.

Refocusing her attention on his voice, she realized that he was winding up. Thank goodness. She was getting hungry.

“This means quite a bit of money to the company. I’m going to need all of your time and your best work in these next few weeks.” He glanced at her. “You have anything to add, Vee?”

“Nope,” she said. “You got it covered.”

“All right, folks,” he spoke to the table at large. “Let’s get to work.”

The staff, consisting of the three programmers, five beta testers, Francis and her, gathered the remnants of their half-eaten breakfasts and began to clear the room. One of the beta testers buttonholed Francis. Lowering her head, she pretended to write, praying that none of them would ask her anything.

Alyssa, the only female programmer, nudged her.

“Vee, I’m excited. I’m so looking forward to winning. I think we’ve got a great chance.”

Violet smiled. Alyssa understood her, keeping up a conversation no matter how tongue-tied Violet felt. “What are you going to do with your bonus money?”

The young woman glowed with enthusiasm. “I’ve already planned my European trip,” she said in breathless tones. She lowered her voice. “I want to catch a husband, or at least a lover.”

Violet fought to keep from blowing out an exasperated sigh. Again, with the lovey-dovey stuff. “You don’t have to go to Europe to do that, Alyssa.”

“Good point. Love can pop up in unexpected places.” Alyssa cast a glance over where Pete, another programmer, and Francis were now engaged in conversation. “You never know.” She shimmied in her seat excited about the possibilities.

“Send me an e-mail,” Francis said to Pete, ending the conversation. “I’ve got to take a phone call.”

“I bet you’ll enjoy Europe,” Violet said, standing up. “Fingers crossed that we’ll win.” She grabbed her messenger bag from under the table and left the room.

As usual, the cafeteria had little to offer and she wondered when the coffee shop in the lobby would open to save her from the terrible food selection. When they won the competition, she would use part of the money to get a brand new food service company.

On her way upstairs, a cup of yogurt clutched in her hand, Violet turned the most recent news over in her mind. They were pretty much done and ahead of schedule. Things were looking good.

****

 “You’re late.”

Violet closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it for a moment. The blinds over the windows that faced the parking lot were still drawn, which meant nothing. Francis never opened the blinds, saying it cast too much glare on his monitor. The truth was he liked sitting in a gloomy office.

Francis had his back to her, preparing their morning cups of coffee. Violet never understood the sense behind making two cups of coffee at a time when you could make a whole pot in half the time, but Francis loved his little gadgets, so who was she to rain on his parade?

She crossed to her desk and dropped her messenger bag.

“What a rude greeting.” She sat down in her chair and pushed the button to boot up her desktop. “Traffic and yogurt is why I’m late.” He turned around, a cup of coffee in each hand. “I don’t expect you to be late to my meetings. Didn’t I send you a text last night?”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Liar.” He placed a cup of coffee on her desk. “Voila. Coffee.”

She could smell the coffee, its heady promise of a caffeine jolt making her ears buzz in anticipation, but the proximity of the bearer of said coffee made the rest of her buzz at a higher frequency.

He stood very close to her, a welcome invasion to her personal space. The fragrance of his understated forest-y scent was a complement to the smell of the dark roast coffee. Violet stared at her out-of-date blotter calendar, her heartbeat accelerating. When it came to Francis, her body always betrayed her.

“Hey, Violet.” His voice was quiet, but forceful. “Look at me.”

After a moment of hesitation, she lifted her chin and met his eyes, the color of which never failed to fascinate her. Behind the glasses, they were a cool, vivid green with a slight bluish undertone that were both knowing and calculating.

“What do you want?” She waved her hands at him. “Go to your desk and drink your coffee.”

“You were late.”

“So?”

He shook his head once, breaking their eye contact. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?”

She was. Her chest felt tight and constricted as one hand clasped at the other. “No,” she said.
Yes
.

“Yes, you are.”

She was. Violet lifted and lowered her shoulders but said nothing, waiting.

He leaned closer. “We both know what you want.” His voice was softer now, the tone coaxing. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Violet closed her eyes and then opened them. “If you already know, Francis, then why do I have to tell you?”

“Say it, Violet, and it’s yours.”

She took a deep breath and squeezed her hands into fists, both loving and hating the game they played. Urgent warmth grew between her legs even as she tried to resist it, desire curling in the base of her belly. “I want you to spank me.”  The words came out in a whisper. Saying them sent a rush of arousal over her, loosening her tension that had tightened her muscles since last night. She lifted her head and looked at him, noticing how he, too, had changed, his eyes hot and gleaming with desire.

“Then we’ll get started. Take off your pants. Leave your underwear on,” he said. He waited, hands in pockets as she kicked off her sneakers and shed her jeans, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Quick breaths puffed between her parted lips, and her whole body shook in anticipation.

Francis waved his hand. “Go around to the front of your desk. Place your hands there.”

After wiping her sweaty palms on her T-shirt, she did as she was asked, placing her hands on her calendar blotter which held nothing but swirly doodles and pen patterns. Behind her, Francis removed his watch—a Christmas gift from her. The metallic clicking sounds loud in the quiet office. He placed the heavy silver timepiece on the blotter where she could see it.

“Time is very important, Violet.”  He trailed his fingers over her lower back, where her T-shirt had ridden up when she bent over. “A precious commodity.”

That bare trace of contact sensitized her skin and she closed her eyes, the rich, dark smell of the coffee cooling inches away and the inexorable ticking of his watch just about too much for her to bear. The muscles in her legs shook.

Francis pushed her T-shirt up to her bra strap, his fingers tripping over the bumps of her vertebrae. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

The first slap took her by surprise and she lurched forward before she stiffened her arms to brace herself. Following the initial sting was a lush, syrupy sensation that warmed her pussy with the intensity of a branding iron. She took a deep shuddering breath and pinched her lower lip between her teeth.

“Would you like another?”  The tone of his voice was polite, distant. He could have been asking her the time of day.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He leaned close, his lips brushed the curve of her ear. “Ask for it.”

“I would like another.”

She jumped when he touched her. A touch, not the slap she craved.

“Be a good girl and ask properly.”

“I would like another, please, Francis.”

The second slap was harder and she cried out, the already tender skin igniting anew. The initial sting faded, leaving behind a delicious after burn that weakened her legs. She closed her eyes, relishing the pleasure of the moment.

If she strained her ears, she could hear the everyday noises of people outside the walls, talking, telephones ringing, toilets flushing. Daily life in an office building. Reality rolled on as she took spankings from her business partner and loved every minute of it.

“Another, Violet?”

“I would like another, please, Francis.”

He responded at once, and she didn’t move this time, the only indication that she had been touched was the sound of skin against skin and her muffled exclamation. Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her shaky arms threatened to drop her face first on her desk, where her coffee was getting cold and Francis’ watch ticked off the seconds in her right ear. Her excitement was agonizing in its intensity and she bit down on a balled fist to contain the feverish desire. Every nerve ending was alive with longing.

“Another?” He palmed her behind, patted it. “Or was the third time the charm?”

Violet would have laughed if her swirling brain weren’t focused on the fiery longing between her legs. “No, thank you.” She took another deep breath. A different type of tension had taken over, one that made her pussy flutter and ache with desire.

His hand was warm on the small of her back and he stroked her skin, running his fingers along the waistband of her panties. “Is there something else you need, Violet?” He hooked his fingers in the elastic and tugged, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

Violet smiled down at the blotter. From the sound of his voice, he was as eager as she was, maybe more. “Yes.” Her voice was low, muffled by the desk.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Ask me.”

“Please fuck me, Francis.”

The muted jingle of his belt buckle and the metallic rasp of the zipper ramped up her excitement higher, the desire mounting to an almost physical pain, a string pulled into a tight knot. Violet forced herself to remain still, drawing on a deep reservoir of self-control to keep from begging.

Francis eased her underwear down her legs and the cool air caressed the hot skin of her spanked bottom. The crackle of the condom wrapper made her breath come even faster, her fingernails scratching against the paper blotter. She chewed at her lower lip with keen impatience.

He nudged her legs farther apart, positioned himself at her entrance. Violet stiffened, keeping herself from wiggling her bottom in anticipation. She could hear him breathing, and it excited her even more to imagine him, poised behind her, gauging the right time, the right angle.