Page 22 of Hexed, Vexed, & Undersexed
“Oh?” Preston asks in a husky whisper. “And what effect is that?”
I nibble on my full lower lip and his eyes dip to watch. He swallows slowly and my pulse picks up.
“Where you shove me against the wall and ravage me,” I blurt like someone who just drank a bottle of truth serum.
Preston’s eyes widen and something dangerous crosses his face—and fuck if I don’t crave whatever that is like a junkie. He advances on me swiftly and has my back against the wall in a flash. My breath is a shallow puff between us and I swear that he’s going to kiss me when, all of a sudden, something black flashes past me and tackles my on-screen coach.
He goes down with a groan.
“What the hell—”
I hear the menacing hiss and realize that it’s only Binx.
Yep—that’s right.
Box-blocked by my own pussy.
“Binx!” I admonish sternly. “Get off Preston! For the last time, he’s one of the good guys. If you’re going to eat someone, let’s go find Bellamy.”
Binx roars like a damn jaguar, showing off large, sharp, white teeth, but he eases off of Preston with a sour face that makes me chuckle.
“Come here, you poor baby. Trapped in here all night, all alone,” I croon.
I crouch down to my heels and open my arms wide. My newly acquired pet bounds into them and knocks me on my ass. The room is silent except for Binx’s robust purring as he stretches himself on top of me and begins rubbing himself. . .suggestivelyagainst my body.
“Unbelievable,” Preston mutters acerbically, taking us in.
“Jealous of my pussy?” I smirk.
“Evanora Porter, you’re a teasing little troublemaker.”
I blow him a kiss.
“Let’s go. Get your horny familiar under control,” he commands in a strained voice.
“You heard the man, Binx, get off of me. It’s getting weird,” I joke.
And sad—I’ve gotten more action from my cat than an actual man.
I have to push my familiar off of me before I can stand up. Poor thing seems so deprived of love. How long was he locked up at the animal shelter? How long was he on his own before that, potentially without food or shelter? I look at the dark feline from the corner of my eye.Scratch that. This beast of a domestic cat—and I use that term lightly—probably thrived better in the wild than in an animal shelter. If Binx once lived in the woods surrounding Salem county, he certainly made it his bitch.
I follow Preston to hair and makeup where someone is already waiting to attend to me. The two men look like models, so I guess that’s comforting—as long as they don’t over do it. . .
“Hey, Evanora. I’m Jake, your hair stylist, and this is Chance, the love of my life—usually. He wasn’t the time he got drunk and tried to make me jealous by seducing all the men in the club—”
“That was four years ago. Are you ever going to let that go?” Chance fake whines.
“Obviously not,” Jake sniffs. “Anyway, Chance will be doing your makeup. Can I just be the first to say that I love your hair? Usually the network fucks it up and I have to spend hours styling it just right to make all the highlights blend seamlessly, but yours is perfect.”
I beam at him.
“Thank you! That’s what I told the woman who did it. So, where do you want me?”
“Come sit down. Preston, you delicious hunk of manliness, go get Evanora’s outfit, please.”
I grin when Jake waggles his brows at me. Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks Preston looks good enough to eat. Binx gives me an ‘are you kidding’ look before plopping down at my feet. For some reason, he seems to be more tolerant of Jake and Chance. I know when Preston returns because Binx starts growling. I sigh—how am I ever going to get any if my cat is against it?
“Here’s this trial’s outfit,” the delicious hunk of manliness announces—Jake’s words,notmine.
