It’s time, I believe, to stop fighting my desire. I have no need to mate, but I do have an aching for Ms. Kristoff. And I think she feels that ache for me, too.
There. I see the perfect spot for my sevenand place it. I didn’t get a row bonus this time, but I will in a few more moves. This is one of my best games yet.
But tomorrow will be even better.
ROSETTE
When Vincent strides out the door, I’m disappointed. He truly opened up to me as Mr. Roth never has, telling me where he came from, how he ended up here. I am not surprised to find he does little with his spare time outside of work.
He’s all I can think about the rest of the night, and he’s in my thoughts even as I fall asleep.
The next day is no better. I spend my day wondering if Mr. Roth will come back to the club again that night. I’d been disappointed when he didn’t let me touch his cock. I wonder if I did a poor job last time.
I take it easy until it’s time for work. Then I put on my best outfit, a red velvet dress with a short skirt and matching red garters. But hours pass, and Mr. Roth never appears. I spend my time with other clients, though myeyes are always on the door, watching to see if he arrives.
At last, the night comes to an end. No one asked me to go to the back room, which I’m strangely grateful for. Usually I enjoy it, but today, I’m only interested in one orc.
I spend my Sunday catching up on chores and getting my nails done, then go out to happy hour with my friends. I don’t tell any of them what’s going on at work, or how Mr. Roth has been coming to Octavio’s. They all know what I do, but I rarely divulge details, so none of them ask for more.
But it’s vapid talk, and I’m caught up in wondering what Monday holds.
Soon, it’s time to see Mr. Roth again. I wait with nervous energy at the curb for the car to arrive, just as it does every morning. What will he do today?
When it pulls up, he is exactly where I expect. He does, however, greet me good morning, and thanks me again when I get him his coffee.
We head to a client meeting at a breakfast location. Once more, Mr. Roth seats me besidehim. During the conversation, though, something gently brushes my thigh.
It’s Mr. Roth’s hand, hidden under the table.
I can’t believe it. He’stouchingme, on the job. A shiver spreads through my entire body, but I try to keep my mind on what they’re discussing. We’re getting to the sensitive details now, before we lock in the deal, and I need to be accurate and precise in jotting them down.
The hand never leaves, nearly stealing my attention, and it’s wonderfully warm through the fabric of my skirt.
The rest of the day passes the same way, his hand sneaking touches here and there. I return them, being so bold as to take his thumb during a meeting and push his fingers down toward my inner thigh. Mr. Roth stiffens all over, but his mouth manages to pick up the conversation going on over the desk like nothing happened underneath it.
It’s dangerous, I know. If anyone saw us—if anyone here in the office found out… we’d be toast. But at last, Mr. Roth has crossed the line.
And I’m waiting for him on the other side.
When we head to my apartment that evening, Mr. Roth rolls up the tinted glassbetween us and George. Then he turns to me, his beastly body looming.
“Ms. Kristoff.” He glares down at me with those yellow eyes, pupils big and black. “You were… a very bad girl today.”
I suck in a breath as his hand slides over the leather seat to my thigh. There he squeezes, his pupils growing even larger.
“I’m sorry,” I say, twitching as his hand slides down to my knee, where my skirt ends. I’m not really sorry, though.
“Are you?” His lip tweaks up on one side, as if all this is amusing him greatly. It’s probably the most I’ve ever seen him smile. “I don’t think you are.”
His hand ducks under the skirt and then slides up the inside, revealing my thigh. My breath speeds up as he exposes me like this in the car.
“You like it when I touch you.” He doesn’t say it like a question. “What kind of woman likes to be touched by her boss?”
“Me,” I say immediately, wanting him to go even higher. I’m so warm between the legs, and I know he can help quench my thirst. “A woman like me.”
Mr. Roth chuckles dryly. His hand travels upeven farther, coasting toward the crux of my legs where I’m probably already getting my underwear damp. But then, the car stops, and over the speaker George says, “We are at Ms. Kristoff’s residence.”
Mr. Roth withdraws his hand and smooths my skirt back down. Then he gestures for me to get out of the car, so I do, stepping out onto the street. He nods at me as I close it, and then the car drives away.
