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Authors: Juniper Bell
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responsibilities untended.
I hailed a cab to take me to the Greyhound bus station, struggling to recall the name of the hotel I’d booked for Simon in Atlantic City. I needed to be with him again. My mind was too full of Ethan. It threw me off-balance. And nothing would fix it other than the sight of my green-eyed god.
I don’t know why, but Greyhound buses always get routed through the seediest, most rundown sections of town. I nestled into a seat by the window and watched the panorama of down-and-out flow past. Grubby kids played hopscotch on the sidewalk, pre-teens showed off their skinny legs in microskirts, gangs of small-time losers lounged on front stoops until their grandmother yelled at them to come in and clean up their damn mess. I knew the territory, I’d lived it my whole life.
It occurred to me that Ethan might fire me. Or had I quit? Storming off the job is generally not recommended, even though I had suggested a replacement. He probably figured I’d quit. And maybe I had. So what? I could get another job. I’d worked at Cowell & Dirk for long enough to be able to put in on my resumé. And Simon would give me a good recommendation even if Ethan refused.
For a moment I amused myself with what that recommendation might sound like. Highly skilled at taking calls while tied to a chair with a vibrator strapped to her clit. Experienced at performing oral sex during conference calls. Able to service two men simultaneously. Responds well to training and willing to assume new tasks as required, especially if they involve a dick up her ass.
I snickered, and the bag lady in the next seat gave me a suspicious look. She wore three dirty sweaters, one over the other, each one some variation of blue.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about something funny at my job.”
She went back to clutching her newspaper and muttering to herself. Right there, smack on the page facing me, was an ad for the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City. Simon’s hotel.
Talk about a sign from the universe.
I relaxed, knowing I’d done the right thing. Ethan had pushed me too far. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to be Number One with me. With everyone. He didn’t want me to think of Simon first, to hold Simon dearer in my heart. He wanted to be the Big Kahuna of all he surveyed.
I didn’t mind it in bed. Or at the office. But I ought to have some say over what went on in my heart. And my heart wanted Simon. Green-eyed, pirate-walking, scar-up-his-face Simon.
I tried to conjure up an image of his face, but things inside my head had gotten a little blurry. Green eyes seemed to morph into ice blue without my consent. And when I tried to remember Simon’s voice, quiet and contained, Ethan’s gravelly one kept coming through. That’s why I needed to go to Atlantic City. I had to see Simon before his image got washed away like grime off a windshield.
How had Ethan managed to dominate my thoughts in the short few days Simon had been gone? Did I have no loyalty, no faith? Was I so easily distracted? All it took was a picnic and some nipple clips?
It wasn’t just that. Ethan had an absolute dominance about him that drew me in and set me up for the sucker punch—his vulnerability. I’d sensed it early on. But the longer I knew him, the more intimate I got with him, the more I understood the truth about his bossy side. It protected the hurt part of him. Those wounds that went so deep I’d probably never understand them.
Was it so wrong of me to want to help him? Was it wrong of me to…love him, even a little?
The questions added up. All I could do was throw myself on Simon’s mercy and hope he had the answers.
Chapter Seven
When I finally tracked Simon down in a cave-like bar on the Boardwalk, he wouldn’t have known the answer to “what are you drinking”. My sexy Simon was smashed. He had an array of shot glasses lined up in front of him like obedient little schoolgirls. Even with his black hair all mussed and his eyes bloodshot, he
I hailed a cab to take me to the Greyhound bus station, struggling to recall the name of the hotel I’d booked for Simon in Atlantic City. I needed to be with him again. My mind was too full of Ethan. It threw me off-balance. And nothing would fix it other than the sight of my green-eyed god.
I don’t know why, but Greyhound buses always get routed through the seediest, most rundown sections of town. I nestled into a seat by the window and watched the panorama of down-and-out flow past. Grubby kids played hopscotch on the sidewalk, pre-teens showed off their skinny legs in microskirts, gangs of small-time losers lounged on front stoops until their grandmother yelled at them to come in and clean up their damn mess. I knew the territory, I’d lived it my whole life.
It occurred to me that Ethan might fire me. Or had I quit? Storming off the job is generally not recommended, even though I had suggested a replacement. He probably figured I’d quit. And maybe I had. So what? I could get another job. I’d worked at Cowell & Dirk for long enough to be able to put in on my resumé. And Simon would give me a good recommendation even if Ethan refused.
For a moment I amused myself with what that recommendation might sound like. Highly skilled at taking calls while tied to a chair with a vibrator strapped to her clit. Experienced at performing oral sex during conference calls. Able to service two men simultaneously. Responds well to training and willing to assume new tasks as required, especially if they involve a dick up her ass.
I snickered, and the bag lady in the next seat gave me a suspicious look. She wore three dirty sweaters, one over the other, each one some variation of blue.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about something funny at my job.”
She went back to clutching her newspaper and muttering to herself. Right there, smack on the page facing me, was an ad for the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City. Simon’s hotel.
Talk about a sign from the universe.
I relaxed, knowing I’d done the right thing. Ethan had pushed me too far. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to be Number One with me. With everyone. He didn’t want me to think of Simon first, to hold Simon dearer in my heart. He wanted to be the Big Kahuna of all he surveyed.
I didn’t mind it in bed. Or at the office. But I ought to have some say over what went on in my heart. And my heart wanted Simon. Green-eyed, pirate-walking, scar-up-his-face Simon.
I tried to conjure up an image of his face, but things inside my head had gotten a little blurry. Green eyes seemed to morph into ice blue without my consent. And when I tried to remember Simon’s voice, quiet and contained, Ethan’s gravelly one kept coming through. That’s why I needed to go to Atlantic City. I had to see Simon before his image got washed away like grime off a windshield.
How had Ethan managed to dominate my thoughts in the short few days Simon had been gone? Did I have no loyalty, no faith? Was I so easily distracted? All it took was a picnic and some nipple clips?
It wasn’t just that. Ethan had an absolute dominance about him that drew me in and set me up for the sucker punch—his vulnerability. I’d sensed it early on. But the longer I knew him, the more intimate I got with him, the more I understood the truth about his bossy side. It protected the hurt part of him. Those wounds that went so deep I’d probably never understand them.
Was it so wrong of me to want to help him? Was it wrong of me to…love him, even a little?
The questions added up. All I could do was throw myself on Simon’s mercy and hope he had the answers.
Chapter Seven
When I finally tracked Simon down in a cave-like bar on the Boardwalk, he wouldn’t have known the answer to “what are you drinking”. My sexy Simon was smashed. He had an array of shot glasses lined up in front of him like obedient little schoolgirls. Even with his black hair all mussed and his eyes bloodshot, he
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