Now I’m in the home spa, sitting in the hot tub, wearing nothing but a Santa hat and singing,Deck the halls with la la lolly. I don’t remember the words to this carol, but it doesn’t matter as long as I shout thefa la las. Which I do. With gusto.
The hot tub was built into an alcove surrounded by more picture windows. I toast the mountains and gray sky and the clouds that are spitting snow again. We’re going to be stuck here for a while. But it doesn’t matter! Nothing matters!
The spa is on the lowest level of this ten-thousand-square-foot house. I can hibernate down here. Sleep on the massage bed next to the sauna. I doubt the Dread Lord and I will ever cross paths again.
I never have to see him again.
And if I feel a little sad about that, it’s only because I haven’t had enough to drink!
I’ll miss him, though. Not just the perks of the job but seeing him every day.
I’ll miss his pretty face. And the way he says “Wellesley” in that stern voice. Is that what he’s like in bed? Deliciously strict and stern?
Crap, now I’m horny.
Not that I actually want to be in bed with my boss. Former boss. No, I’m just a normal, healthy woman whose libido is raging because she hasn’t gotten laid in years.
I’m going to have to start fantasizing about someone else. It’s possible I never wanted Piers; I just need to imagine someone saying mean things in a British accent to get off. Lots of people probably have that kink.
I can find porn I like instead. Or change it up and imagine a footballer instead.
But when my imagination starts flowing, it’s still a tall, dark, and handsome boss chastising his assistant.
Enough of this impertinence,he clips, his plummy accent as sharp and as sparkling as Waterford crystal.Hands on the desk and bend over.
Crap, now I’m panting. My boobs are swollen and tender, and the insistent throbbing between my legs means my pussy is demanding an orgasm.
I distract myself with the high-tech panel on the side of the hot tub. I press some buttons, and the jets roar to life.
Which gives me an idea. What if I just sidle up to one of these gushing jets and open my legs? I just need the right angle...
But when I try it, the pressure leaves me gasping. It’s like being fucked by a waterfall. Too much. My clit can’t stand the deluge.
I turn back around, and the jet pummels my backside, which gives me an idea. If I just rise up and bend over so the jet stream hits between my butt cheeks…Hmmm, that’s nice.Intense but nice.
My orgasm is building when the music blasting through the house cuts off. Piers must have found the electronics cabinet. He’ll be stalking around the house, growling under his breath. He’s so sexy when he’s ready to go to war.
No, don’t think of him! Definitely don’t think about Fantasy No. Sixty Nine, where he’s pulling my hair, whispering,Bad, bad girl?—
All the jets in the hot tub die. “Dammit!” I scramble to push the button again but freeze when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
I hope I’ve imagined it, but no, it’s the Dread Lord, here to spoil my fun. He would show up just as I figured out how to get the fancy hot tub to stimulate my butthole.
I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind.
But when he walks in, he looks like he hasn’t slept in a year.
He’s sexy as ever, but I spot the signs of dishevelment. His shirt has a few wrinkles. The shadows under his eyes are deeper, darker. His hair is tousled like he’s run his hand through it more than once. In all my years of observing him, that’s something he’s never done.
Seeing these signs of humanity softens me. It’s like the time I found an old photo of him as a boy, in a little holiday suit complete with plaid vest and bowtie. He looked adorable, but there was a sadness in his golden eyes. He looked a little lost.
He had that same lost expression after Marty’s funeral.
I know what it’s like to lose someone who’s your whole world. It changes you.
It changed Piers. But not enough.
Now, though, he looks terrible. He’s missing a cufflink. For anyone else, that’s not a big deal, but for the owner of a multinational conglomerate that includes several luxury brands and fashion houses? He’s on the brink of devastation.
