He grinned, one side of his mouth curling higher than the other as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless one happens to be a six-foot-eight blond asshole with a penchant for meddling?”
“There is that exception, yes.”
“He means well.”
Violet gave him a baleful stare. “Don’t all busybodies believe they meanwellwhen they’re sticking their noses where they don’t belong? Even when they upset a perfectly good, balanced life with their interference?”
Merrick glanced at Boudreaux. “Seems to me, some that of balance has been off-kilter for a while, Vi. Tell me, how were you gonna get all your shit to your car without someone seeing you?”
Yes, housekeeping had definitely blabbed about her personal affairs. Perhaps she should pay a visit to the office in the morning and give them a friendly warning about pissing off a Domme.
Darkening her stare to a reproving glare, she settled herself more comfortably into her seat, radiating nothing but impatience and nonchalance. “Is that your nose poking into my business now?”
“I’ve got my busybody hat on.”
“So I see.” She sighed and checked her watch. “Oh my, look at the time.”
“You don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine, but make no mistake, we are gonna talk about it. Not so much about you wanting to leave us; more about the method.” He ran his big hand tiredly through his shaggy silver mop. “It can wait ‘til tomorrow. For now, I’m ready to take my little owl home and fall into bed. Preferably on top of her, but we’ll see how that goes.”
“I highly recommend sleep sex,” Boudreaux drawled lazily. “There were many times Violet came on my cock before she was fully awake.” He barely flinched when she turned her death stare on him. “With permission, of course.”
“Permission revoked,” she snapped tersely. “Now be quiet.”
He mimed zipping his lips shut, but they still curved into a mischievous smile. He knew damn well he’d opened a can of worms—if he kept doing so, she’d gag him for the duration of the contract. In fact, that sounded like a wonderful idea, period.
Merrick pointed a finger at him. “Stick around. I like you.”
And just like that, Boudreaux was dragged deeper into the big boys’ club, she thought with a roll of her eyes. Why was she not surprised? He was the kind of guy who stepped into the room and was sucked into the heart of the party. “Boudreaux doesn’t do anything without my say so, Merrick, and I won’t let him corrupt the club. Take your girl home and show her you love her.” Slowly, she rose and shook back her hair. “There may come a day when that love is only a memory, and the man who made it is even less.”
“Vi—”
“Goodnight, Merrick.” She spared a dismissive glance at Boudreaux. “There are blankets in the hallway closet, an extra pillow if you require one. Step foot in my bedroom and you’ll lose it.”
With a gentle brush of her hand over Tamsyn’s hair as she passed, Violet swept out of the room without another word. No doubt the boys would continue tobondin her absence, but it had been a long fucking day and she wanted it to be over.
If Reaux was smart, he’d heed her warning.
He hadn’t lied about making love to her while she was sleeping—they’d been some of the most sensual experiences she’d ever had with him. Waking up with him inside her, an orgasm shivering through her before her brain recognized the flood of hormones and pleasure, was a sacred memory—one he’d just shared without thinking.
Because—like so many other things—it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her.
She didn’t slam the bedroom door behind her. No point in terrifying Tamsyn just because one’s temper was quickly boiling over, yet again. Instead, she snicked it closed as she flicked on the light, and began to strip.
Men were just assholes, plain and simple.
Keeping them at arm’s length was the only way forward. Sex with Boudreaux might satisfy the itch her vibrator couldn’t touch, but she refused to entertain the idea of repeating that colossal mistake again. She would tie him up, make him come, stick to the original plan until she figured out a way to get rid of him once and for all.
Tomorrow, she’d devise a scene that exhausted him to the point he couldn’t spend the entire time annoying her. If Doc Isaac didn’t have the meds by the afternoon, she needed to give serious consideration toward leaving the peaceful cocoon of Serenity and braving the manic energy of the city.
Not the most joyful prospect.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror beside her dressing table and paused, turning to face it. She wasn’t sure if she liked the woman staring back at her with anger flushing her cheeks and sad, resigned eyes.
Physically, she supposed she was in what some might consider prime condition. Her arms and shoulders were toned from her job, and the three mornings a week—not to mention the sleepless nights—she spent in the gym. Her abdomen wasn’t completely flat or adorned with a six-pack, her waist and hips were curvy, and if she lost a couple pounds from her hips she wouldn’t complain.
Her skin was smooth, marred here and there with the odd scar from recreational mishaps—the tail of a whip could slice through flesh just as easily as a knife, and it only took an inexperienced hand or a moment of distraction for an accident to happen—but it was still tight, supple, and the muscles beneath firm.
Violet tilted her head, cupping her breasts and studying them with a critical eye. Full, heavy, with wide brown areolas and nipples any sadist would love. Years of moisturizing were keeping stretch marks at bay, and yet she saw a few starting to make their presence known.
