Page 76 of Dollhouse

Tate. Fuck. My dick twitches in my pants at the thought of having her spread beneath me again, moaning my name and leaving scratches down my back. I wonder how she’d look on top of my desk or against the window.

Stop it, Eli. Think with your head and not your dick. She’s going to be eliminated.

Fuck. I can’t fucking think about her, I don’t deserve to think about her.

Clearing my throat and hoping the voice in my head can shut the fuck up, I sit up straight in my chair. I select the green answer button and Callum’s face appears on my screen instantly.

“Talk to me, Cal. Where are we at with the production?”

“Hello to you too, you grumpy bastard.” He chuckles. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

“I don’t have time for this. What’s the latest update?” He’s fidgety like he always gets whenever he’s nervous about something he needed to tell me. He is avoiding whatever it is.“Spit it out,” I demand, and so he does. He goes on to tell me that the building is still waiting certain permits that was delaying the build. That, and the contractor happened to quit out of the blue.

“We need more money and more time. The only way to complete the project is to pay everyone off to speed up our inspections and permits. The contractor wants more as well, he did his own research and knows how much the company is now worth.” Of course, he does. Greedy bastard.

From my peripheral view, my cell phone lighting up and vibrating across my desk catches my attention. I pick it up, making no show of the fact I was on my phone and no longer giving my attention to Callum. Elena can fill me in on his sorry excuses later.

Countless calls and text messages are coming in from both Rowen and King, and even a few from some of our other staff members. The text that catches my attention and causes me to nearly crush my phone from gripping too tight is a text from King.

King:911. Bella’s.

911 iswhat we use when there’s an emergency. We try to be vague over text for the most part, not sending anything that can’t reasonably be explained.

“Email Rowen about however much is going to be needed to get the job done by the original deadline.” Before Callum has a chance to respond, I slam my laptop shut and stand, my knuckles white from how tightly I am holding my phone.

Elena stands looking at me with worry in her brown eyes. “Is everything okay? Can I help with anything?” We walk toward each other, her small porcelain hand gripping my bicep lightly.

In the past I wouldn’t hesitate to bend her over my desk and take advantage of her long ponytail, but now I can’t stop picturing Tate’s face morphing in pleasure and the way her eyes get glossy and roll in the back of her head when she has an orgasm.

Fuck.

I’m a weak little pussy for feeling anything toward a girl. A girl I barely know but can’t stop thinking about.

I shake her face out of my mind, and wrap my hand around Elena’s delicate wrist with every intention to remove it. Instead, I pull her body close to me and attack her lips in a kiss that feels so fucking wrong.

But I am a red-blooded male after all, so even though she wasn’t the one I wanted, that didn’t stop my dick from getting hard. And that didn’t stop me from bending her over the couch and trying to fuck her. But for the first time in my life, I can’t perform. I can’t get hard.

Fucking Tate.

She’s ruined me for anyone else.

I leave Elena on the couch half naked and begging for me. Yet I don’t care. Her pussy isn’t the one I want.

Tate is the only one that I had ever fucked bare before. I hadn’t planned on it, but I wanted to know how it would taste getting to suck my cum out of her pussy. Just as I imagined, it was fucking magical. It tasted like heaven on earth. It tasted even better because it was mixed with her cream.

I want to spread her legs and eat her sweet cunt like it’s my new favorite dessert.

* * *

When speeding,it takes me twenty minutes to get from my office to Bella’s, an Italian restaurant that we purchased years ago to save it from going under. It’s actually one of the first businesses that we acquired, and Fabio, the owner, has been a trusted friend and ally to the Triad for years.

When we were younger, Rowen, King, and I would often work for Fabio in exchange for a few bucks or a meal. He was always kind to us, and we returned the favor when our business took off and we began making money.

He helped us, we helped him. It was meant to be a gift, but the stubborn fuck that he is wouldn’t accept it, so we made a deal and he’s now one of our most trusted partners.

I’d barely shifted my car into park when I open the door and run out toward where King and Rowen are standing on the sidewalk in front of Bella’s, talking to a police officer.

The building is surrounded by cop cars and ambulances.

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