Page 13 of Slay Ride

Your room is right beside Cat’s. If you plan to fuck any fruit, please fold this towel and place it between the dresser and the wall so she doesn’t have to hear it. Unfortunately, I didn’t spot any pineapple on the shopping list, but I’m sure you’ll find something that will be just as appealing.

Ezra

This bitch.

I crumple the note and toss it on the floor. I love how everyone acts like they don’t have a weird fetish when I know for a fact they all do. If anyone ever creates an organization for the ethical treatment of fruit, I’ll reconsider my ways. Until then, I’ll fuck whatever I damn well please.

The tiny pineapple joins the note on the floor, and I busy myself with stuffing clothes into drawers. Ezra likes to hang his things, but not me. If the wrinkles in my dress shirts bother anyone, they don’t have to look at me. I’d prefer it that way.

An event schedule stands on the nightstand. It’s a step up from the pamphlets they offer at the summer excursion, and it actually looks like it was designed in this millennium. Then again, the odd 70s vibe is what made the summer retreat so unique. What does this winter shindig have to offer?

Snow, sub-zero temperatures, and Cat, that’s what. And I hate all of it.

None of that matters, though, because making that blonde’s trip the worst it can be will make up for the discomfort and misery. That’s what I kept telling myself on the freezing sleigh ride in.

After flopping down on the bed, I grab the event list from the nightstand. Just out of curiosity. I won’t be choosing which events I participate in because I’ll be the one tagging along this time. Wherever Cat goes, I’ll be hot on her heels to ensure she doesn’t get that first kill.

Just like the summer retreat, the events look innocent enough on paper. We’ve got a skiing lesson, cooking demonstrations, snowboarding, and curling, among other activities. What the paper doesn’t say is that most of these events will involve killing or maiming the Cattle.

There’s also the mandatory dinner on the first and last night, with the last night holding a black-tie requirement. God, I hate wearing a monkey suit. I’m a t-shirt-and-jeans kind of guy.

I check my watch. Several hours stand between me and a gourmet meal. I could take a nap to pass the time, but that won’t help the mild jet lag from a four-hour time difference. Which means I’ll need to find something to do.

The first day at the retreat is meant to orient the guests with their surroundings, so I’ll start with the mansion’s interior first and see how I feel. If I decide I need to venture into the winter wonderland—my version of hell—I’ll pop back to my room to change.

I step outside my bedroom and glance around. Cat’s door glares at me. I squash the urge to snoop around in her personal space, though I’ll probably cave eventually. If I find a flagpole, I’m not above running her skimpy drawers to the top of it. I never said I was mature.

Instead, I head down the grand double staircase. How ridiculous and utterly pointless. I hope I’m never rich enough to feel the need for two sets of stairs that lead to the same damn place.

“Need someone to show you around?” Maverick asks as I reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s standing beside my arch-nemesis as she stares up at him like he was the one who saved her fucking life. Not that I did. “Cat just gave me a quick tour, and she’s a great guide.”

“Sounds like a good time,” I say with a smile. “Why don’t you show me around,kitten?”

“Please fucking die,” she says. “And don’t ever call me kitten again.”

She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder, then turns back to Maverick as if I’m not standing here.

“I was serious about that tour,” I say. “I don’t know where anything is, and you seem to know everything, per usual.”

“Do you hear something?” Cat says to Maverick. “Sounds sort of like an annoying fly buzzing around a decimated pineapple.”

“Or an angry fly buzzing around a turd with some blonde hair poking from the top,” I say.

Maverick shifts his weight between his feet. “I think I’ll head to my room now. I...uh, need a nap before dinner.”

As Cat’s body deflates, I realize why they say someone looks like the wind has been sucked out of their sails. The girl shrinks before my eyes, her shoulders dropping and her smile fading. She watches him until he disappears at the top of the stairs.

“No worries,kitten. Now you’re free to give me the tour.”

Remembering I’m here, her face shifts from dejected to disgusted. The feeling is mutual.

“I’ll give you the tour on one condition,” she says. “Promise you’ll stop calling me that.”

I grin at her because she’s made this entirely too easy for me. “I absolutely promise to stop calling you that if you promise to show me around like a good little girl. And no sass.”

She takes a deep breath, and I try to keep my eyes away from her full tits as they rise and fall with the inhale and exhale. It’s like my brain and my dick are on two different wavelengths.

“Okay,” she finally says, “but you’d better not break that promise.”

---