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I grab my book off the coffee table and settle onto the couch. I’m estimating I’ve got a couple of hours before Ursula returns. Enough time to lose myself in Wuthering Heights for the hundredth time. I picture the sweeping moors, but it’s not Heathcliff marching toward me. It’s Hunter. Cloak around his shoulders, dog at his heel, cane in his hand, scowling from under a dark brow. I should be afraid of him, but I run to him.
I shake my head. This is getting weird now. I get back to reading, determined not to think about him anymore. It doesn’t work. I give up about ten minutes later when I’m the puppy being pulled between Hunter and Oswald. It doesn’t even make sense anymore what I’m imagining. I set the book down and picking up the paperwork Ursula brought back from the store.
I’m still examining it when she comes home a half hour later. “What happened?” I ask as she throws herself into an armchair. “You look exhausted.”
“We won the sing-off. Free tab next time we’re in. Go us!”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, but Buffy and Melanie went nuclear again after you left,” she says. “You missed the fireworks.”
“What happened?”
“They said they wanted to talk to me and sort it all out, but it turned into an absolute bitchfest. Kept saying you’re the reason Melanie was fired.”
“Why do they even think that?”
“I couldn’t get them to change their mind. They kept banging on about how you and Hunter are conspiring to get rid of her, that you’re out for Melanie’s job.”
“What did you say?”
She shows me the scratch by her eye. “Let’s just say I defended you.”
“Oh my God. There was a fight?”
“Not much of one. Melanie was too drunk, and Buffy couldn’t do much with Eric and Jo getting between us all. They came at me a few times, but the cops were called before they could do any real damage. When this detective came in, they got taken out. The guy told the bar to close up for the night. So I’m back, and I’m going in the bath. I need to decompress. What’s your plan?”
“Go to bed. Night.”
17
Bex
* * *
I’m in the office again. This time I’m in a long black coat tied at the waist. Hunter is behind the desk, working away at a pile of papers. I try to get his attention. Nothing. I cough. I wave. I shout. He ignores me.
I pull at the cord around my waist, and at last, he looks up. I untie the knot and slip the coat from my shoulders. I’ve got sheer hold-ups and heels on but nothing else. He drops his pen, getting to his feet, a massive bulge in his pants.
“Bad girl,” he growls, bending me over the desk, his hand slapping down on my ass an instant later.
The sting makes me gasp. I look over my shoulder in time to see him spank me again. “Such a bad girl,” he says. “Distracting me while I work.”
I say nothing. I’m too busy trying to breathe, the sting of pain coursing deep into my body. Without a pause, he’s between my legs, his finger sliding into me, his teeth digging into my ass, making me cry. “I need to fuck you,” he says, thrusting his finger back and forth into me. “This is happening.”
I can’t let it happen. I can’t fall for him. Not now I know what kind of man he is. Why am I doing this? Why am I naked in front of him?
I try to stand up, but he’s holding me down. I squirm in place, my mouth opening but no words coming out. I feel his cock between my legs. I fight against his grip, but he’s too strong. He slides straight into me, and as he does so, he grabs my hips, thrusting back and forth, his breathing getting heavier.
“Let me go,” I try to say, but nothing comes out. It’s like my vocal cords have been cut. He gets faster, and I know he’s going to come. When he does, something terrible is going to happen. I can sense it. I must not let him come.
He gets to the brink, sliding out and spinning me around, pushing me down to my knees. I glance at his cock in time to see it spurting into my face.
The instant it does, I wake up coated in sweat. I swear I can feel the wet heat of it on my face. I run my hands over my cheeks. Nothing there. It was a dream. A vivid dream, so real I can still feel the sting in my ass, the throbbing in my pussy.
I get up, climb out of bed, and head to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water in the dark, gulping it down while goosebumps pucker my flesh. I’m immediately on edge. I listen hard. I hear a rattle. The front door. Someone’s trying to get in.
“I’m armed,” I shout, running to the lounge. “Keep out, or I’ll shoot you.”
