Hard Byte

by Misha Bell

  I grab his head but can’t bring myself to pull it away. If anything, I have to fight the urge to press him harder against my crotch.

  Suddenly, maddeningly, everything stops.

  Noooo! I was an inch away from the big O.

  A new bloody choice appears in the air.

  “Do you want to sample the penetration phase? Yes or no.”

  Yes.

  No.

  I’m ready for it, but getting penetrated right here and now isn’t—

  There’s a sound of a lock turning.

  Shit.

  My heart jolts into the stratosphere, and my insides turn into a sorbet.

  Someone’s about to catch me.

  Chapter Four

  Leaping to my feet, I claw at the headset.

  Bugger. The gloves make it hard to get a good grip, so I attempt to violently shake them off me, only to trip on something.

  Flapping my arms as though I’m trying to learn to fly, I grab on to the first thing in my path—which seems to be the office chair.

  Fuck me. The thing has wheels, which predictably roll, and my fall continues—with more arm flapping and sounds of suit Velcro coming undone.

  Bam!

  My wrist smashes into something hard. Judging by the thud against the floor and the sound of plastic shattering, I must’ve just destroyed that nice monitor.

  Strong hands grab me before I nosedive farther.

  Not expecting it, I go into freakout mode—grabbing what feels like a keyboard and preparing to swing it.

  The hands immediately let go of me.

  “I was only trying to help,” says a deep, velvety voice with a Russian accent.

  That’s true, so I don’t smash the keyboard into the speaker’s face. Instead, I let go of my weapon—and cringe as I hear it smash into bits.

  “Why don’t you allow me to take that headset off you?” the voice asks.

  “Cheers,” I blurt, and before I can correct it to “thanks,” the headset is carefully removed from my head.

  Now that I can see again, I gape at my savior.

  And gape.

  And gape some more.

  Did I fall asleep during that demo, or is this still virtual reality?

  In front of me is the very guy who was just eating me out in VR—the hottie from Miso Hungry.

  Chapter Five

  “You okay?” the hot stranger asks, cerulean eyes peering into my very soul.

  “Uh-huh.” Face burning, I take off the first glove with my teeth, then use the freed hand to take off the other glove. On autopilot, I start working on the rest of the suit—until I remember that I’m completely naked underneath.

  “Do you want a minute?” he asks, pointedly keeping his eyes on my face and not lower—as though he’s avoiding something.

  I look down.

  Oh bloody hell.

  My right nipple is showing.

  I completely forgot about that ripping Velcro sound from earlier.

  “Turn, please!” I squeak, spinning on my heels so fast it’s a wonder I don’t destroy what little is left alive in this office.

  “Done,” he says.

  I peek over my shoulder. His back is to me. The tush inside his jeans is reminiscent of the one I chose for him in VR.

  Wait. What am I doing?

  Returning to proper priorities, I peel off the suit and tiptoe over the broken monitor and keyboard pieces as I pick up my scattered clothes off the floor.

  My hands shake as I pull them on, my skin alternately too hot and too cold.

  Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell.

  This is bad. So, so bad.

  It’s not until I’m fully dressed that I’m able to fully process what happened—and as I do, I want to sink through the floor. Maybe all the way to the lobby.

  My cheeks feel like the surface of the sun as I mumble, “You can look back now.”

  “All right.” He turns back and gives me an intent once-over. “So, who are you?”

  The words escape in a rush. “Holly Hyman, at your service.”

  Bugger. Why did I just say that?

  He frowns, an expression that bizarrely makes his face look sexier. “The CTO?”

  “Guilty as charged.” Ugh. Why did I just say that? In desperation, I try to smooth over my blunder. “And you are?”

  “Alex.” He extends his large, masculine hand. “Alex Chortsky.”

  My jaw hits the floor.

  Chortsky.

  As in the owner of Morpheus Group.

  The Devil himself.

  Chapter Six

  No wonder he boasts the cheekbones of an angel. This is the original fallen angel.

  I want to run, but he’s blocking my way.

  Wait. All is not lost. He doesn’t know why I’m here. Maybe there’s a way out of this?

  Looking confused, the Devil lowers his hand.

  Damn it. How could I leave him hanging like that? It’s mega rude.

  Before I can apologize, he looks down at the floor and grimaces at the sight of the shattered keyboard. “I had just installed rubber O-Rings under all the keys,” he says mournfully. “Took me an hour.”

  A fresh surge of guilt washes over me. I use those things myself; they make mechanical keyboards—the best kind—less loud. I’m about to offer to buy him a new keyboard and install the rings myself when he narrows his eyes at something on the floor.

  Oh, no.

  He bends down and picks up a flash drive.

  The flash drive—the one with the virus on it. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket when my clothes took that tumble.

  “Is this yours?” His narrowed eyes home in on my face—yet even the threat in that cerulean gaze doesn’t lessen its devastating impact on my hormones.

  “No. I mean, yes.” I extend my visibly shaky hand. “Can I have that back?”

  Sensual lips flattening, the Devil jerks the flash drive out of my reach. “What exactly are you doing in my office?”

  I fight two conflicting urges: to run away screaming or fight him for the flash drive. I go for something in the middle. “I, um… that is, Robert told me we’re going to ramp up the integration soon.” So far true. “I wanted to check out the suit as part of that.” That could be true.

  His grim expression is unchanged. “How did you open the door? I locked it myself last night.”

  He’s been coming here at night? Why didn’t the rumor mill warn me of this? Oh, duh. Because they don’t work late on days when I don’t.

  “The door was open.” Fuck. I don’t sound convincing even to myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t I ask Gia to teach me to lie better?

  He puts the flash drive in his pocket with the finality of a prison sentence. “Why are you here so late?”

  “I—I had a lot on my plate. Just got around to it.”

  His eyes are like slits now. “You didn’t even touch your dinner.”

  Crap. He saw me buy that. “I got curious and lost my appetite.” God. A five-year-old could’ve come up with a better lie.

  He takes out his phone and makes a few clicks. Whatever he sees, he must not like because his jaw sets as he pins me with that cerulean laser stare. “You wouldn’t know why the security cameras aren’t working, would you?”

  I just stand there, gulping in air. It’s official—I’ve lost my ability to speak.

  “Is this corporate espionage?” His words are clipped.

  Still rendered mute, I shake my head.

  He glares down at me. “Then what is it?”

  I don’t answer. I can’t. My heart is pounding so hard I feel sick.

  His gorgeous lips flatten again. “If you come clean, the consequences will be less severe.”

  “I… I was just…” My throat is too dry to get the words out.

  “You just what? Remember, I can find out for myself.” He pats the pocket with the flash drive.

  I feel like I’m about to barf from panic. “I—I wanted to… I wanted to stop the porn.
” Oh, bugger. Why did I just say that? That sounds bad. I should’ve—

  He folds his arms over his chest. “What do you mean by ‘stop the porn?’”

  I swallow my racing heart back into my chest. In for a penny, in for a pound. “My life’s work is at risk. Children and porn don’t mix.”

  “Children?” He looks at me as though I’ve sprouted a unicorn penis on my head. “You think we’re making kiddie porn?”

  “What? No!” Wait, maybe I should’ve said yes. Too late now. I scramble for a reasonable explanation but can only come up with the truth. “I’ve been working on VR pet therapy.”

  From there, I launch into the full story, stammering my way through my good intentions—that I want to make children more comfortable at the hospital.

  As I go on, the Devil’s features are unreadable—he could give Gia’s poker face a run for its money. I have no idea if he believes me or not. I hope he does. As the Father of Lies, he should be a truth serum and polygraph machine combined.

  “So,” I say tentatively when I’m done. “Am I fired?”

  He runs a hand through his unruly locks, and I fight the urge to tie him up and tame that hair. That action wouldn’t help my case in the least.

  “We’ll discuss your employment status after the investor meeting tomorrow,” he finally says.

  Hope blooms in my chest. I’m not outright fired. That’s amazing. I’d fire me if our roles were reversed. Then again, he’s probably just postponing the inevitable. Given the state of his office, he might want witnesses around when he does sack me—along with working cameras and security guards.

  “There’s something I want you to keep in mind,” he says, his expression still indecipherable. “Morpheus Group is as important to my sister as that VR pet therapy is to you, and her work is not porn. She wants to bring sexual experiences to people who, for various reasons, aren’t able to have them, including patients in hospitals, husbands and wives torn apart by distance, soldiers, deep-sea fishermen, oil rig workers… Her ideals are just as high as yours.” A frightening look replaces the expressionless mask. “I won’t let you or anyone else destroy my sister’s dream.”

  My head spins. The rumors mentioned a sister, but I didn’t realize she was the driving force behind Morpheus Group. I’m even more screwed than I thought. Even if he doesn’t fire me, she certainly will.

  “I need to know that we have an understanding,” he demands in a hard tone.

  I nod on autopilot.

  Having seven sisters, I’ve always wondered what it might be like to have a brother. Seems that instead of teasing you mercilessly, they actually protect you from threats. Must be nice for the She-Devil.

  The frightening expression disappears from the face of the Prince of Darkness, and the much more preferable poker face is back on. “I want you to say that you understand.”

  I gulp. “Affirmative. I love—I mean, I really need this job.”

  “That you do. It’s not just your project on the line, either. You’d lose a fortune in stock options too.”

  Well, someone is confident in the future of this company. Or is he confident in his sister? In any case, he’s most likely right. To keep me from going over to Google, our old owner gave me a bunch of stock options. If the company does well, I’ll be rolling in loot—assuming I keep working here, which isn’t looking likely.

  “I promise this will never happen again,” I say and cringe. Obviously, this won’t happen again. Even if I were insane enough to try sabotage again, I wouldn’t destroy his office, or almost have an orgasm on his couch, or—

  The door to the office suddenly opens, and a gorgeous woman steps inside, her gaze bouncing around in confusion.

  I blink at her.

  That’s his companion from Miso Hungry.

  Has he brought his date to work?

  “What’s going on?” she asks.

  Does she mean, “What are you doing with my boyfriend/husband/master?”

  Her eyes land on the discarded suit and brighten. “Were you just testing that?”

  Wait a second. Is she—

  “She was,” the Devil—or I should say, the Deceiver—says before I can even think of replying. “The rest of the mess was just an accident.”

  Well, that second part is true.

  The woman appears transformed. If earlier she seemed a little cold in her perfection, now she reminds me of a little girl introduced to her pony for the first time. “Tell me how it went.”

  The Devil’s features soften. “I think introductions are in order. Bella, this is Holly, the CTO whose profile you were so impressed with.” His gaze turns to me, a silent threat lurking in the cerulean depths. “Holly, this is my sister, Bella, the head of Morpheus Group.”

  As I started to suspect, she’s the Devil’s sister.

  Not surprising, really—she is wearing Prada.

  What is surprising is her lack of a Russian accent, but I guess if she’s younger than her brother, she could’ve been just a child when they immigrated.

  A huge wave of relief washes over me as I process all the implications.

  She’s his sister.

  They weren’t on a date.

  They must’ve just been grabbing dinner before coming here.

  Wait. Have I gone completely bonkers? Why should I care that the King of Darkness isn’t dating her?

  “Holly!” Grinning, Bella advances deeper into the room, the remnants of the monitor and keyboard crunching under her stilettos as she extends her hand. “So nice to finally meet you.”

  I shake the hand instead of leaving her hanging, like I did with her brother. My shake is limp, though, and my palm is sweaty.

  She was impressed with my profile. Why? Is it possible that, like Santa, She-Devils have a “naughty” list?

  The Devil clears his throat. “Holly is so eager for the upcoming integration project that she’s taken initiative on testing the suit.”

  Bella’s handshake turns even more enthusiastic.

  “Thank you so much,” she says and finally lets me go. “What did you think?”

  I’m still stunned. Why is the Ruler of Darkness covering for me? Telling her that I was testing and not sabotaging?

  Maybe he doesn’t want to worry her? It’s possible, given how protective he seems. Or, since this is her life’s work, he might be worried that the truth will cause her to attack and kill me, which could lead to pesky legal troubles or calls to Russian mob connections. Because, naturally, all Russians have connections to the mob.

  “Oh, no,” Bella says, examining my no-doubt-sourpuss face. “You didn’t like it?”

  Crap. I need to stop thinking and begin reacting. Bella looks like I kicked her sick puppy, and when I sneak a glance at the Devil, his dark expression is saying, “Fix this or else.”

  “Not at all,” I blurt. “It was actually brilliant.”

  If she believes that, I’ll go into acting.

  Nope. She doesn’t look convinced, so I search for something true. “I was very impressed with how realistic things looked. And all the choices.” There we go. Countless cocks are choices. And I was impressed with the facial realism.

  She tilts her head. “You’re not telling me something.”

  Bugger. “The integration,” I say in a flash of inspiration. “When I tried touching something during the demo, the gloves and the suit didn’t seem as in tune as they should be.”

  She nods solemnly and gives her brother a pointed look. “Told you.”

  A hint of a smile touches his eyes. “I never argued about that. Integration is going to be a big priority going forward.”

  “So.” Bella’s attention comes back to me. “How far did you get?”

  I blink. This really is her life’s work—I can tell from her unwavering enthusiasm. She can probably talk about this for hours to anyone who’ll listen, a bit like new parents bragging about their spawn or me with my VR pet project. I guess it makes some devilish sense. This invention is going to bring a
whole lot of lust to the world—and that’s one of the seven deadly sins.

  Bella must tire of waiting for me to answer because she grabs a glove, puts it on, and presses the headset to her face.

  “Ah,” she says after a few gestures. “You’d just finished the cunnilingus phase.”

  I turn redder than the Queen’s Guard uniform.

  Did the Devil just smirk?

  Without removing the headset from her face, Bella asks, “What did you think? Wasn’t it realistic?”

  “I… err… think so?”

  Grr. Now he’s definitely smirking. Wanker.

  “You think so?” Bella sounds concerned.

  I redden further. “I… don’t have a basis for comparison.” Oh God, why did I just admit that?

  She removes the headset from her face and looks at me with such concern you’d think I just told her I’ve never been out in the sun or tasted tea. Turning to her brother, she asks, “Did you know about this?”

  He shakes his head, his smirk even smirkier.

  She looks back at me. “But you liked it, right? I worked very hard on the textures and the—”

  “I loved it!” The sentence comes out in a squeak.

  “Whew.” She swipes her hand dramatically over her face. “You had me worried there for a moment. You didn’t get to penetration, though, right?”

  Why can’t the floor swallow me and put me out of my misery?

  I manage a headshake.

  “But you’ve experienced that before?” She looks horrified at the very idea of me being a virgin, and I want to die. Maybe by spontaneous combustion. Or the HR shooting all of us.

  To say that this is a sensitive topic for me would be a massive understatement. I’ve had sex, of course, but my devirginizer turned out to be gay—and on top of that, as a kid, I was always teased with the not-so-creative nickname of Holy Hymen.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” Bella says, catching on to my distress.

  I will my burning cheeks to cool. “It’s okay. I’ve had coitus before, so no worries.”

  There. I should get some kind of a medal.

  “Thank goodness.” She presses the headset back to her face. “Still, without having experienced oral sex, you’re not the ideal test subject. A pity.”