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“It can, but you’ll work on it tonight. Now, sit your arse on that chair and proofread the contracts.”
She purses her lips, which is her way to stop from spouting nonsense, then whirls around in a cloud of metaphorical smoke and forcefully sits down.
I expect to see ashes surrounding her, but none appear.
Yet.
The girls giggle, smelling of strong perfume that nearly bleed my nostrils. One of them kissing me on the cheek. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”
“We’ll make you feel good,” the other says.
Apparently, it’s not quiet enough, because even though Nicole is focused on the documents and the tablet, her leg bounces under the table and her lips are set in a thin line.
I know because I’m watching her like a hawk. My attention isn’t on the girls, it’s on her.
The ice in my whiskey clinks as I swirl it and take a sip. “You can start right here.”
They giggle again, and the sound is annoying. What are they, preschoolers?
Nicole never giggled. Not even as a child. She always had elegance and was the walking form of proper manners. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing her laugh either.
And probably never will, considering my status as the warden of her hell.
One of the girls lowers herself between my legs and I lazily open them wide, letting her settle in the middle.
She looks like a malnourished pubescent, which I know she’s not, but the fact that she reminds me of a minor is a major turn-off.
Or maybe the whole fucking scene is.
I keep comparing them to Nicole’s voluptuous body that’s become sexier than a porn star’s. Not that she wasn’t hot back in school, but she’s all grown up now.
All woman.
The girl brings my attention back to her when her fingers latch onto my belt and she meets my eyes with a seductive look. “I’ll start. Remember when you told me I’m good at giving head?”
No, I don’t, but I nod absentmindedly anyway. “You’re a doll.”
Nicole jerks up to a standing position, taking the documents with her. “I’ll finish these in the kitchen.”
I resist a smirk by taking a sip of my drink. “You’ll finish them right there.”
“It’s distracting.”
“I pay you to tune that out. Sit down.”
She glares at me, but there’s something else in there, hatred and a feeling I can’t identify.
When she doesn’t make a move to comply, I jerk my head to the chair. “Sit the fuck down if you want to keep your job.”
“My job doesn’t entail witnessing my boss receiving sexual favors.”
“Sexual favors? What the fuck is this, a detective show? It’s called a blowjob, and if I say your job requires that, then it does.”
“Are you trying to prove a point?” she asks, her face red, whether with anger or something else, I’m not sure. “If that’s the case, then I already know you get more pussy than Casanova during his prime and you love it. I get it, congratulations on the meaningless record. Now, can I please go home?”
“No.” I slowly push the one kneeling in front of me. “Both of you, out.”
“W-what?”
