More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“No trunks allowed in my pool, Mr. Hough. Balls out or no entry.”
“You’re picturing it right now.” My face burned hotter. “Am not.” “Yes, you are. So am I.”
When I spotted several wooden sun loungers neatly set out under big parasols at the edge of the pool, I chuckled and asked, “Are those the ball catchers?” Holt snorted. “No. I replaced those with ones that have the slats closer together, so my balls never go through that trauma again. Which means we can definitely fuck on them.”
“You eat ass just as good as you suck dick, Mr. Hough,” he murmured against my lips. “And ride dick. And stroke dick. Look, my dick is just fully on board with whatever you’re willing to give it.”
“My dick just really, really likes you. And my asshole.” His throat bobbed. “And the rest of me. All of me. All of me just… really, really likes you, Taylor.”
“Excellent idea, Mr. Hough.” The grin he shot me was wicked as he grabbed my free hand and tugged me down the aisle. “I’m suddenly really in the mood for ice cream.” “Are you sure you should have more dairy?” I asked doubtfully. “We had those milkshakes. Chase was airing out his office for most of the morning after we went in there.” He shot me a weak glare. “Don’t ruin my sexy ice cream fantasy with the threat of dairy farts, Taylor. I can handle it.”
I didn’t know where to look. “Big E” was Ethel? Lizard Granny? They called her Big E? This little old lady working the register of a thrift store was a giant lizard under that blue rinse and wrinkly skin and those filmy eyes. A giant lizard called Big E. She had to be a mobster.
“If you’re Holt’s”—she tilted her head at him and gave me a loaded look—“and you’re in the know, then you just say the word, my dear. My girls can pay him a little visit if need be. We protect our own.”
Oh my god. Oh my god. I’d been right. This had to mean I was right, didn’t it? Lizard Granny Mafia was real. And their boss, Big E, was offering to have her “girls” pay Marcus a visit for slighting me. What did “girls” mean? Who were the “girls?” A team of Lizard Mafia Grannies, armed with machetes and brass knuckles? Holy crap.
Now I was looking at the tassels hanging from his balls. I burst out laughing as Holt stood there proudly, his hands on his hips. The tassels were bright pink—obviously—and sparkly, the heart-shaped pasties clinging to his sac for dear life. As he chuckled and bent over slightly to peer down at them, the left one fell off. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He bent to grab it. “Ball skin is not designed to have stuff stuck to it. It’s too… textured.”
“You’re perfect for me, Taylor Hough.”
You won’t start here tomorrow. You’re going to take a week off, and we’re going to spend every day alternating between the bed and the hot tub at my place before coming to watch the wrestling at night.” He kissed his way across my cheek to my mouth. “You’re going to spend the majority of the week naked, Mr. Hough. You deserve a break. You deserve to be spoiled for a while. And I am going to spoil the fuck out of you.”
“Wanted to do something a little extra to tell you.” I laughed, pure joy bubbling in my chest. “It’s appropriately extra. Still romantic, but at least it’s not the wrestlers spelling it out with the letters painted on their asses.” He froze, then huffed in exasperation. “Fuck, that would’ve been so much better. This is why I hired you as our marketing manager, babe.”
