“Not for you, for her.” Jenna sits up, gulping air.
I open the box. On blue velvet is nestled a glittering diamond necklace with matching earrings, the kind of diamonds that look like candy draped across a woman’s bare breasts while you fuck her.
So Sable will not be receiving this necklace or the earrings that you’d push out of the way gently so you could kiss a woman’s neck.
“I told her you’d have jewelry for her.”
“Not this.”
“You are so… Argh! Why do you always have to make my job so, so, so difficult? Everything with you is ten times harder than it needs to be.”
I grab her chin and kiss her hard until she’s moaning softly against me.
“I do not want to go to the charity fundraiser, and I certainly don’t want to go with Sable. This?” I snap the box closed and use it to push up her chin. “I want you to wear this jewelry when I fuck you. Therefore, Sable cannot have it. Find something else. Or come with me instead.”
She swallows noisily, licks her bottom lip, then catches it with her teeth. Then her eyes narrow, and the red blush of lust turns to scarlet anger on her face.
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
“You do?” I croon, tucking a sweaty tendril of her hair back into her ponytail.
That only makes her angrier. She shoves me, making me rock back.
“You’re trying to get me fired. You’re ticked off that you can’t get your way, and you’re being cruel just to be cruel.”
“You haven’t actually seen me cruel.” I dig my fingers into the soft, warm skin of her thighs. “Wait until I’m fucking your ass.”
“Sable,are you a ballet dancer, by any chance?” I ask as she walks by.
“In a former life.” She does an elegant curtsy, her tiny ballerina bun high on her head. She’s wearing a gauzy pink dress like an old-world actress.
Behind her, Jenna has a whole bag stuffed with papers, tablets, phones, and food. She’s digging in it, the charms on her Stanley cup jangling. Even though she has a bag, she still has her phone and her keys in the same hand as her cup.
Why does she need the cup? Why can’t she just put her stuff in her purse?
She bops Truman on the head. The dog yips.
“There’s food at the party, Cupcake.”
“This is just in case you don’t like it. I don’t want to hear you complain,” she says, holding up little plastic baggies filled with snacks before she continues to rummage in her enormous bag.
“You treat me like a child.”
“I know you have mommy issues, so”—she gives me a saccharine smile—“I’m trying to be accommodating.”
Sable senses my attention slide from her. She tilts her head prettily.
Meanwhile, Jenna is trying to keep Truman from chewing on the strap of her purse, which for some reason is inside of her other purse.
I resist the urge to smooth down the hair that tangles in her red face.
Sable makes two little ballet steps toward me.
I dutifully drape a wrap around her shoulders, which are highlighted by angular collarbones. Her long ballet-dancer’s neck is decorated with an emerald choker.
Too bad Jenna didn’t run that choker by me first. I’d have put that on my no-go list just so I could fasten it tight around Jenna’s neck, wrap my hands around it, and squeeze while she ground her pussy against my knee.
Jenna’s wrong. If I had mommy issues, I’d fuck Sable in the back of my car. However, my father had some sort of fetish for ballerinas. As such, I don’t want one near me. Sable has big blue doe eyes. Just my dad’s type.
