Page 17
Story: Kiss of Smoke
His chest lifted in a sigh, but it was one of acquiescence rather than frustration. “The moon calls. I have to hunt tomorrow.”
“That not a problem. I’ll take her around the castle. Maybe show her the long gallery.” My mind filled with images of Chloe strolling before me, her long legs encased in the tight jeans she sometimes wore on casual days in the office. She had a glorious body, with round tits and ample hips. I wanted to explore it for hours. The mere thought made my cock stir.
“And you won’t show her anything else,” Lachlan said, a note of warning in his voice.
“I’m not gonna fuck her, if that’s what you mean.”
“I meant charming her, but you make a good point. Keep your dick in your trews and your brain to yourself, Alec.”
I tried to look insulted, but I ended up smiling. “I’ll be on my very best behavior.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter Four
CHLOE
I could never face Alec or Lachlan again.
Which was massively inconvenient, given that I was staying in their castle.
I’d woken in a canopied bed in a room fit for a princess. Sunlight had streamed through windows framed in blue velvet curtains. Ten-year-old me would have sunk into the feather pillows and possibly died of happiness.
Twenty-four-year-old me had buried my face in my hands and groaned as yesterday’s events paraded through my head like a bad movie.
The airport.
Josh. (That dick.)
Lachlan carrying me.
Alec comforting me.
Blacking out on the airplane.
Having zero recollection of landing in Scotland or getting from the jet to the castle.
Having no idea how I could have possibly slept so long.
Having the most erotic dream of my life.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about it—not when I got out of bed and realized my panties were soaked. Not when I wondered just which one of my bosses had put me in one of the nightgowns from my suitcase. Not when I stood in the en suite shower with images of hard, male bodies filling my head. The scenes were so vivid, it was as if I’d lived them.
Somehow, I managed to do my hair and put on a light makeup application even as glimpses of bare chests and thick cocks flickered through my mind. I’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain, long-sleeved shirt.
Then immediately swapped the shirt for a sweater when my hardened nipples poked under the fabric.
I’d done everything I could to banish the remnants of the dream. I hung my clothes in the big, wooden wardrobe that looked like it probably led to Narnia. I restyled my hair. Applied more makeup. Wiped some of it off. Searched for my phone, which was nowhere to be found.
Despite everything, the images refused to go away. Problem was, I couldn’t stay in my room forever. Alec had left a note:
Come to the kitchen when you’re up. I’ll make breakfast. — A
Even his handwriting was beautiful. My third grade teacher would have gasped in delight at his elegant loops and curves, which looked like something from the Declaration of Independence instead of a casual note from a host to a house guest.
Well, technically, boss to employee.
Which was exactly why I had to erase the dream from my brain. I was already guilty of lusting after my bosses. Lots of women in my position would do the same. But now I was fantasizing in vivid detail about having a ménage à trois with my employers. Knowing they were gay made it worse—as if I intruded on a sacred part of their relationship.
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