Page 30 of Seduced By the Werewolves

“Damn.” His voice is sleepy but pleased. “That was incredible, Tiff. I could spend all day inside that sweet pussy of yours.”

Just the words electrify me, and I can already feel myself getting wet. But I have to get going, and so do they.

On their way out the door, Leon kisses me first, and it’s a gentle one. Then Jace pulls me into his arms.

“Thank you,” he says into my ear. “I hope I get to see you again soon.”

When they’re both gone, I drag myself into the shower and stand shakily under the hot water. That knot of Jace’s felt great last night, but today I ache between the legs.

What a bizarre phenomenon. I’ve seen quite a few dicks in my life, but nothing like that. I can’t deny how erotic and utterly heavenly it was, though. Weird and yet delicious.

By the time I get into work, I’m still more or less a zombie, though I manage to grab Mr. Bosley’s coffee and slide into my desk chair at exactly nine. Tonight, all I want is to curl up on the couch with some popcorn to watch a mindless movie—and let my body recover from last night’s marathon.

I order lunch in so I can keep working through my break, and I’ve only just finished the first project by two in the afternoon. But on the second one, the numbers aren’t adding up right, and I don’t like passing anything off to accounting until I’ve done at least the barest of due diligence.

I’m scratching my head when Mr. Bosley stomps into the office, soaking wet. I glance out the window and find it’s pouring rain. Great. His gaze zeroes in on me, and I cringe, knowing he’s about to unleash hell.

“Are you done with Dunmar yet?” He towers over my desk. “That should have been finished this morning.”

“I know,” I squeak out. “But some of these payments aren’t, um...” The last thing I want to do is question Mr. Bosley’s work.

“Aren’t what?” he prompts.

“They aren’t reconciling. That’s all.”

“Well, reconcile them.” He pins me down with his gaze, narrowing his eyes to make his meaning clear. “Do whatever you need to do to get it done.”

Then the door slams.

Do whatever you need to do? I gape at my computer screen, where the erroneous spreadsheet taunts me. I would have to invent quite a bit of product to justify how much money was spent last month.

Mr. Bosley can’t be serious. What he’s asking—without exactly asking—is a federal offense, I know that much.

I chew my fingernails, though I know I shouldn’t. What’s the right way out of this? If I don’t do what Mr. Bosley asks, he’ll only get worse. Next week, he’ll find some new way to grind me down into dust, and I’ll spend my day fighting off tears. Maybe he’ll tell HR that I’m not doing my job and then they’ll can me.

But if I do what he’s suggesting, there’s a chance someone will find out down the line... and it will be my name on the files. He didn’t tell me in so many words what to do, either, so I couldn’t really say I did it on his orders.

The last thing I need is to be here all night figuring this out, so against my better judgment, I decide to do what Mr. Bosley asked. My throat closes up as I start fixing the files, my heart beating faster and faster the more fake cells I add to the spreadsheet.

A text interrupts me.

Hey Tiff, it’s Quinn!

I stare at the message for a moment, then I remember giving him my number last night. I’d almost forgotten after what transpired with Jace and Leon.

Hey

It’s the only thing I can think of to say with my brain feeling like vanilla pudding.

Do you want to hang out tonight?

Just the idea of it makes me tired. Quinn is a sweet ball of energy, and I don’t think I could handle that today on top of Mr. Bosley. So I decide to be perfectly honest.

I’m exhausted, and I have to stay late at work. I don’t know if I have it in me, to be honest

The answer comes soon after.

That’s okay. I hope you feel better

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