Page 19 of Slay Ride

Before I head to her room, I go to mine first. Mashed potatoes are a favorite of Cat’s, but they appear to be missing something. I know just the thing to make them taste even better.

I place the dish on an ottoman in the corner of the room and remove the cloche. Fragrant steam rushes up to greet me. Now I’m almost sad I’ll miss dinner, but the results will be more satisfying than any meal.

But there’s another problem. I just planned to stick my dick into the potatoes a few times and serve them to her, but now that I feel the heat rising from the plate, I’m worried about third-degree burns. As soon as the heat travels into my king’s crown piercing, I’ll also scream like a girl.

I fan the food with my hand and blow on it, but it’s not working fast enough. Does this plate hold in heat or something? I pull off my shirt and use that to create more air movement thanI can with my mouth. Her dinner won’t be piping hot, but that’s fine. I’m sure she’ll still dig right in.

After unzipping my jeans, I look down at the plate with a smirk. “Come to daddy.”

I’ve just driven my dick into the mashed potatoes when I hear a knock at my door. For fuck’s sake. I haven’t been gone long enough for anyone to come looking for me, and besides that, I don’t need a fucking babysitter.

I use my finger to repair the large dent in the potatoes, and then I tuck my dick away and head for the door. What I find on the other side isn’t what I expect.

“I heard you come back from dinner pretty early,” she says. I don’t miss the way her eyes flit to my exposed chest before rising back to my face. “What are you planning? Haven’t you done enough damage for today?”

My mind scrambles for an excuse. “I was just about to bring you a plate. Kindra said you weren’t feeling well.”

“But you had to come to your room first?” Her eyebrow rises, and before I can stop her, the little cockroach drops beneath my arm and wiggles into my room.

It doesn’t take her long to spot the plate on the ottoman. With the way the artificial sunlight streams in and lands right on it, it’s practically in a spotlight. She looks from the ottoman to me.

“You really are sick,” she says. “Is it the smell of the food that compels you to fuck it, or is it something about the way it looks?”

“I wasn’t going to fuck anything. The cloche must have fallen off when I set it down so I could change into something more comfortable.”

“More comfortable than a t-shirt and jeans?”

“Take the food or don’t, but get the fuck out of my room.”

I step toward her and reach out to grab her arm, but she ducks beneath my grasp.

“Your pants are unzipped and you’re shirtless,” she says. “You’ve probably already violated that poor pheasant, and there’s no way in hell I’m eating it now. I’d rather starve.”

“Suit yourself, then.” I shrug and walk toward the ottoman.

“What are you doing?”

“If you aren’t going to eat it, I’m not going to waste it. I’ve already missed dinner, so I might as well make the most of the food you don’t want because you’re paranoid.” I sit on the edge of the bed and wave the plate beneath my nose. “Man, this smells amazing.”

“So itisthe smell,” she says with a curl of her lip. “Give me that.”

I pretend to tug the plate out of her grasp as she reaches for it, but I only do enough to make her believe I don’t want her to have it. Because that makes her want it more. She plucks the plate from my hands and starts for her room. It’s a shame I won’t get to witness the moment she puts the potatoes into her mouth, but I can always fantasize. Besides, I need to plan for tomorrow.

Once the door closes behind her, I grab the event sheet and look at what’s on offer for the first official day. It’s hard to decide what to plan for when I don’t know what Cat will be doing, though. Then a note about tomorrow evening’s festivities catches my eye.

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and there will be a party to celebrate. The brochure promises dancing and drinks and masked fun in the ballroom following dinner. After that, we’ll go to the natatorium to watch fireworks through the wall of windows while we remain in a heated room. I don’t know how we’ll all fit in there unless some of us are in the pool, though.

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow night. The party is mandatory, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. If Cat thinks she’s going to kiss Maverick at midnight, she’s only setting herself up fordisappointment. For now, I’ll just have to be content with knowing the girl is in the next room with my dick in her mouth.

Chapter Nine

Cat

It’s almost nine in the morning, so I’d better get a move on. The carriage for the ski lift leaves in fifteen minutes, and I’m wearing little more than panties and a full face of makeup.

Shorty jumps onto the bed and headbutts my elbow, which bumps my arm and sends a glob of black eyeliner racing up to my temple. I’m fine. This is fine. Just one more log to add to the growing pile—which will soon combust.

“Go play with your toys,” I say as I pull him close for a cuddle. “Mommy has to get ready for a snowboarding lesson.” I gently place him on the floor.

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