“Flattery will not help you right now,” Cold chuckled with a quick roll of his eyes, tucking his cock back into his pants. He snorted, feeding him another bite and smugly repeating, “Dinner first, Jimmy.”
“Then dessert?” Jimmy asked hopefully.
“Absolutely,” Cold promised.
“One request.” Jimmy batted his eyes, chewing slowly and smiling hopefully.
“Yes, Jimmy?”
“When it’s time for dessert...”
“Uh huh?”
“Would you...?”
“Yes, Jimmy. I will keep the apron on.”
Chapter Ten
Jimmy wanted angrysex. He wanted Cold to fuck him with hate and bitterness, to fuck him and punish him, to thoroughly use every inch of him in total thoughtless fury.
The problem was...
It was apparently very difficult to piss off Boss Cold.
Jimmy had tried little things: leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, elbows on the table during dinner, chewing with his mouth open.
He got disgruntled glares, firm corrections, but none of the unbridled rage he was seeking. Cold had definitely earned his icy moniker, his anger rarely palpable and only a cool, aloof annoyance permeating through. It wasn’t enough.
It was time to take desperate measures.
Jimmy found himself standing in front of Cold’s closet, staring into a veritable wonderland of pressed suits and silk ties. Everything was arranged meticulously by color and style, little shelves for his neatly paired shoes, and small intricate compartments for tiny things like sock garters.
It was flawless, pristine, organized beyond belief; it was also a perfect target.
Jimmy reached out, lightly batting the suit closest to him like a cat. He quickly withdrew, watching with wide eyes as the hanger fatally rocked and promptly deposited the jacket onto the floor.
