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“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.”
“I’m so glad Larkin mistook you for that stripper. I’m pretty sure I can’t ever fire him because of that. I’m basically indebted to him now.”
The diner I used to frequent was run by werewolves. Huh. Well, that explained why all the line cooks were big and burly. And possibly why there was a metal sign behind the counter that said, “Keep dogs on a leash” and someone had scrawled “LOL” in permanent marker on it. And why there was a deer head mounted to the wall. And a full moon printed in the corner of the menus. Honestly, now that I knew werewolves existed, I felt a little silly for not realising.
“Ooh, Larkin told me his mom owns a new age store. I bet that’s interesting.” Holt grimaced. “She won’t let us leave if we go in. She talks as much as her son. And she’ll try and get you to have a reading. She’s a Seer.” He raised a brow at me. “You want to know your future?” I blanched. “I think that would just cause me massive anxiety.”
Yeah, that’s right—THIS beautiful creature is into ME. Suck it, buttheads.
Snuffling a laugh, I let him lead me over to the register, and it was only once we were waiting in line behind the person currently paying that I noticed two things. One: the person paying was Marcus. Two: the person serving him was Cackling Lizard Granny. I choked on a breath, more because of Lizard Granny than Marcus’
“Does he incorporate animal sounds into his music?” Holt asked suddenly, his tone far too innocent. “Like… oh, I don’t know, dying chickens…” I pursed my lips to stop myself from snorting. Marcus was giving him a strange look. Luckily, he wouldn’t have any idea what Holt was referring to.
“Well. Very unexpected bumping into you, but I should—” “Was it?” Lizard Granny suddenly piped up, filmy eyes gleaming with cunning. “Because you came in here right after them and spent a very long time lurking, almost as if you were looking for someone—”
“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.” I sucked in a breath so fast I almost choked. 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.
“I can handle it, Holt. Tell me. The Lizard Granny Mafia is a thing, isn’t it?” Laughing, Holt stopped and turned to face me. “If it is a thing, I’m not in the know about it. All I know is that Ethel is a total party animal, and when she comes to watch the wrestling with some of her friends, they are wild.”
“And good boys get rewarded. So I think you should take me back to your place and let me lick ice cream off your dick.” My mouth went dry. I croaked, “That… that sounds more like a reward for me.”
When we got to the club later that afternoon, Larkin asked us what we’d been up to today. We couldn’t exactly tell him I’d given Holt a strange, naked, underpants-ironing striptease, and then he’d proceeded to make an ice cream sundae out of my dick—which had gotten very messy—so I just mumbled that we’d gone shopping and hung out.
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.”
“I was in there trying to figure out how to make them spin, but I couldn’t do it anyway.”
“Maybe you’re not human,” he eventually said, his voice hoarse and still a little breathless. He lifted his head to peer down at me. “Maybe you’re some kind of incognito super incubus. You’d tell me, right?” I chuckled, climbing up onto the bed to lie down beside him. “Just plain old human. Promise.”
Nothing, literally nothing, could pierce the bubble of happiness I was floating around in. Not even Tim from HR loudly informing us all that he was now weighing his carton of almond milk every morning after using it in his coffee. He’d brought in digital scales especially.
“Boss man has a nice dick,” Gabe said, sounding impressed. Biff grunted, clutching the incubus closer to his chest in a possessive gesture as he muttered, “Lopsided nuts, though.”
Holt exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered, “If I find a bag of fae shit on my desk…”
Sweat bloomed over my whole body as I stared up at the enormous decal of Holt’s photocopied testicles taking up the entirety of the far wall. Oh my good god.
They were everywhere. Left on every desk, pinned on every cubicle wall. Stuck to the whiteboard behind the front desk. I was surrounded by a sea of Holt’s testicles.
Draping my jacket over the back of my chair, I realised I too had an autographed copy of Holt’s balls resting on my keyboard, but this one said something different from all the others. Would you do me the honour… of putting these in your mouth? H xxxx
Babe, I may have ordered a rush job on something else… “Good morning.” A perky, unfamiliar voice drew my gaze to the front desk. A uniformed delivery woman was holding out a clipboard to Grace, while two of the building’s maintenance workers walked into the office carrying a huge neon sign between them. HotSex Corporation, it said in big, bold letters.
Oh god. I was suddenly picturing Seb dutifully picking up Gary’s desk at Holt’s order and carrying it out of the office, while Holt, Larkin and I snickered and grabbed various items from cubicles to hide. Where the fuck had we put it all?
“I’m not missing anything,” Simon from IT piped up, “but this has been left on my desk.” He was brandishing an empty jar. I stared at it in horror, a new memory forming as I watched him unscrew it and peer in, then jerk his head back as his entire face scrunched up into a disgusted grimace. Larkin had farted into that jar. Oh my god. What was wrong with us?
I stopped by the door and looked back at the office. Every single person was staring at me in stunned silence. “Because I’ve always hated it here.” I shrugged. “I don’t even know what we do. And I don’t know what synergy means.” No one really seemed to know how to respond to that, until Latitia from Sales blurted, “Neither do I,” then clapped her hand over her mouth with a nervous giggle.
Oh, and by the way…” I pointed at the break room, then nodded at the stack of photocopied balls clutched in Tim’s arms. “Those are my boyfriend’s balls.”
Yeah, no reason my ass. Although, oh god, did that mean Seb and Larkin had just fucked in my new office? Before I’d even got a chance to see it?
“Stop looking at me like that or I’ll end up on my knees under your desk. Little minx.”
Big, fat sunflower heads had been arranged on the mat to spell something out. An H, followed by a love heart, with a T underneath. H hearts T Holt…
“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.” “So it wasn’t just to keep getting in my pants?” I teased. “I do love getting in your pants,” he rasped, hands sliding down to squeeze my ass, then gave me an uncharacteristically shy smile. “But I love you even more.”
