Santa, save me.
I lick my lips. “What was I right about?” I can barely get the words out. He’s looking at me like he’s a bull and I’m a red flag.
“If I want something, I take it.”
I don’t think he’s talking about the whiskey. My pussy pulses, and I can’t stop my whimper. I want to be taken. I want to be taken so bad!
“You’re going to start acting sensible,” he says. “No more drinking, your cheeks are flushed. And you need to eat something.”
My whole body is flushed, but not just because of the hot tub.
He walks towards me, still lecturing. I need to drink more water, blah blah blah. “You’ve had your fun. You’re going to take a little nap and wake up fresh for the night’s work. You’re going to drop this nonsense about quitting. I’m willing to overlook your impertinence?—”
“Excuse me?” I can’t believe him. The arrogance of this man! “I’m quitting, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” I lift the bottle and start chugging.
It doesn’t work; I can’t get much down before I cough and sputter. I’m pretty bad at being a bad girl, but it doesn’t matter. I just need practice.
If it’s possible, his glare turns even more frigid. I shiver even though I’m in water heated to over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
“Enough,” he snaps. “Put the bottle down.”
This is another power play. He doesn’t want the whiskey; he just can’t stand to let me enjoy myself. He wants to ruin my fun.
He doesn’t get to do that anymore.
I stand straight up. Water streams off of me as I point the mouth of the bottle at myself. “You’re not the boss of me.”
Then I remember… I’m naked.
CHAPTER 4
“Omigod!” I drop back into the water so fast, I forget that I’m holding the bottle. I lift it quickly, but it’s too late. The whiskey has been tainted with chlorine. Oh well. I set the bottle on the side of the hot tub.
I have more pressing things to deal with.
Namely, the fact that my boss just saw my bare naked body. I could’ve worn my bra and thong, but I’ve never skinny dipped in a hot tub in a ten-thousand-square-foot mountain chalet. It seemed like a great way to start my retirement.
I think I might be drunk.
The Dread Lord is staring at me. His eyes are glowing as usual, but his pupils are so wide they’ve turned his eyes black. The gold is only a thin corona around them. His throat works as he swallows.
He pulls his undershirt over his head.
Holy hell. I nearly fall backward into the hot tub because he’s gorgeous. I thought his arms were chiseled, but his abdomen is a work of art. And he’s packing plenty of inches in those tight, black briefs.
No, don’t look at his dick! His giant, throbbing meat stick… Don’t even think of it!
“Like what you see?” He’s suddenly next to the hot tub. Right beside me. I could reach out and touch his eight-pack.
“Benji really works you hard.” Benji is the only one who can yell at the Dread Lord and survive. Sometimes, I listen in on their workouts because the sound of a former SEAL team instructor barking at my boss gives me so much joy. I only got the soundtrack, though, no visuals.
“Did you think that Benji and I were having tea?”
“No, just lots of sex.” I mimic Benji’s Brooklyn accent. “Yeah, that’s good. Give it to me again. Come on now, one more time, yeah, yeah, pump it like you mean it.”
A muscle jerks in his cheek, but the corner of his mouth is turning up, like he’s fighting a smile. “Glad we could amuse you.”
“It’s one of the things I’m going to miss. That and spitting into your espresso.” I have never spat in his espresso.
