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Authors: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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his chest that reminded her of the hard, round cement bags in her mother’s garden used to create a little pond for holding rainwater. It was her favorite place to play as a child.
“I am not an ex-soldier,” he said insolently, “I am an ex-assassin. A lethal one.”
Oh, God. This guy is going to stay in character the entire time. But at least it explained his weird, archaic behavior.
He added, “And has it ever occurred to you not to run at strangers with carving knives? An invitation for a fight, if I ever saw one. But perhaps you’re the sort who enjoys getting rough.” His gaze moved down to her breasts, and she found herself wishing she’d worn something baggy instead of her white short-shorts and pink tank top. But she’d wanted to be comfortable while they did their warm-ups and role-playing.
“I-I-I do not enjoy getting rough,” she replied, trying to pretend that his sexual undertones hadn’t affected her. “And has it ever occurred to you not to go to a churrascaria restaurant if you—or your character—whatever—are touchy about knives? Seriously. And couldn’t you have at least tried to tell my boss it was your fault?”
“Why would I falsely admit culpability? Nevertheless, I attempted to convey to the little man that I wasn’t hurt or upset. I mean,” he laughed, “look at you. You’re harmless.”
Sadie wanted to kick the man in his beautiful face, but it was way, way up there. The guy was like six six or something.
“Whatever. Are you ready to start your lesson, or do you need another decade to finish your weenie yoga?” Her eyes moved down to the X-rated view of his still semi-aroused cock, the base still very visible through the open fly.
And dammit if there wasn’t something about his shamelessly unapologetic raw male sexuality that didn’t make her want to keep looking.
He glanced down at his crotch. “You’re fifteen minutes early; however, I think the moment has fled me. Some yappy little meat wench insisted on knocking down the door for a look.” He cracked a snide little smile. “But feel free to take matters into your own hands. I trust you know how to handle this kind of sword at least?”
She grimaced in disgust. “No wonder you need my help. You’re absolutely disgusting.” And I really need to stop looking at his huge penis . “And your junk is far too tiny to interest my hands or any other part of my body.”
He narrowed his smoldering, turquoise eyes. “And you are too small, insignificant, and plain to ever interest me. Don’t ever forget that.”
He did not just call me plain . Sadly, it sort of stung a little. No woman wanted to be called plain, especially by a beautiful asshole like this. Don’t let him shame you, Sadie. Just do the job, get paid, and get on with your life.
On the other hand…
She stepped toward him, staring deeply into his eyes, and then reached out her hand, placing it firmly over the enormous sideways-slanted bulge in his leather pants.
She watched as his face and body tensed up. He probably thought she was going to assault his manhood. When she didn’t, she could see that twinkle of hard lust in his eyes.
She leaned in and rubbed her breasts and body against him like a frisky little sex kitten. His chest expanded with a few short, hard breaths. Oh, yeah, big boy. I know how to act, too.
“Plain, huh?” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes like she was going to go in for a kiss. The moment his head started to lower toward her, she slid both hands slowly to his open fly and zipped him up. “Put your teeny weeny away, Mr. Ass-Sasin,” she pushed past him, “and let’s get to work.”
“That was a dirty trick, woman,” he snarled. “And you could’ve injured some very sensitive equipment with the zipper.”
“Yep. But I didn’t.” She entered the room, attempting to find a place for them to sit and begin going over the basics: table decorum, language, how to make a woman feel at ease. And from what she
“I am not an ex-soldier,” he said insolently, “I am an ex-assassin. A lethal one.”
Oh, God. This guy is going to stay in character the entire time. But at least it explained his weird, archaic behavior.
He added, “And has it ever occurred to you not to run at strangers with carving knives? An invitation for a fight, if I ever saw one. But perhaps you’re the sort who enjoys getting rough.” His gaze moved down to her breasts, and she found herself wishing she’d worn something baggy instead of her white short-shorts and pink tank top. But she’d wanted to be comfortable while they did their warm-ups and role-playing.
“I-I-I do not enjoy getting rough,” she replied, trying to pretend that his sexual undertones hadn’t affected her. “And has it ever occurred to you not to go to a churrascaria restaurant if you—or your character—whatever—are touchy about knives? Seriously. And couldn’t you have at least tried to tell my boss it was your fault?”
“Why would I falsely admit culpability? Nevertheless, I attempted to convey to the little man that I wasn’t hurt or upset. I mean,” he laughed, “look at you. You’re harmless.”
Sadie wanted to kick the man in his beautiful face, but it was way, way up there. The guy was like six six or something.
“Whatever. Are you ready to start your lesson, or do you need another decade to finish your weenie yoga?” Her eyes moved down to the X-rated view of his still semi-aroused cock, the base still very visible through the open fly.
And dammit if there wasn’t something about his shamelessly unapologetic raw male sexuality that didn’t make her want to keep looking.
He glanced down at his crotch. “You’re fifteen minutes early; however, I think the moment has fled me. Some yappy little meat wench insisted on knocking down the door for a look.” He cracked a snide little smile. “But feel free to take matters into your own hands. I trust you know how to handle this kind of sword at least?”
She grimaced in disgust. “No wonder you need my help. You’re absolutely disgusting.” And I really need to stop looking at his huge penis . “And your junk is far too tiny to interest my hands or any other part of my body.”
He narrowed his smoldering, turquoise eyes. “And you are too small, insignificant, and plain to ever interest me. Don’t ever forget that.”
He did not just call me plain . Sadly, it sort of stung a little. No woman wanted to be called plain, especially by a beautiful asshole like this. Don’t let him shame you, Sadie. Just do the job, get paid, and get on with your life.
On the other hand…
She stepped toward him, staring deeply into his eyes, and then reached out her hand, placing it firmly over the enormous sideways-slanted bulge in his leather pants.
She watched as his face and body tensed up. He probably thought she was going to assault his manhood. When she didn’t, she could see that twinkle of hard lust in his eyes.
She leaned in and rubbed her breasts and body against him like a frisky little sex kitten. His chest expanded with a few short, hard breaths. Oh, yeah, big boy. I know how to act, too.
“Plain, huh?” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes like she was going to go in for a kiss. The moment his head started to lower toward her, she slid both hands slowly to his open fly and zipped him up. “Put your teeny weeny away, Mr. Ass-Sasin,” she pushed past him, “and let’s get to work.”
“That was a dirty trick, woman,” he snarled. “And you could’ve injured some very sensitive equipment with the zipper.”
“Yep. But I didn’t.” She entered the room, attempting to find a place for them to sit and begin going over the basics: table decorum, language, how to make a woman feel at ease. And from what she
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