Page 264 of Double Daddies
It was rude to cancel on the Doms, but she wasn’t going to be any fun to be around if she was face down on a flat surface, fast asleep. Besides, she didn’t know what they liked so much about her, but she couldn’t switch what they wanted on and off at will.
No, shower and bed was far more appealing.
Hurrying along the path, Avery finally came to the clearing where three long cabins, different to the guest accommodations, where nestled picturesquely into the trees. It was lovely to wake to the sound of birdsong, to watch squirrels darting up and down the massive trunks and scurrying across the ground.
Her apartment in Denver was quickly becoming a forgotten memory.
She lived in the second cabin with a group of women who were… standoffish wasn’t quite the right word. Apparently there’d been some big turnovers of staff in the opening months of the club, and the original crews were leery about making lasting friendships.
So far, the women had been friendly toward Avery, but no one had extended a branch.
Then again, neither had she.
Her hours were unsociable, and she was not only part of the kitchen team, but a solo flyer as she’d heard some of them say. Classified as part of one department, yet belonging to nothing. It seemed she was destined to lead a solitary existence wherever she landed.
Trotting up the wide steps, she pushed through into what she now considered her home.
The communal area was open and welcoming, furnished with soft carpet, heavy curtains, and several big, comfy couches. A widescreen TV took up part of one wall, and there was a DVD player and a whole library of DVDs for anyone who wanted to spend their evenings relaxing.
Funnily enough, the other women were mostly hired in the housekeeping department, yet the skills for which they were employed were noticeably absent here—someone’s bra was tossed over the back of a couch, a pedicure set was laid out and abandoned on the large coffee table. Books were stacked in a disorganized heap by an armchair across the room, and several mugs of cold coffee were left in random places.
Another reason why Avery didn’t hang out with them much; she wasn’t going to be the idiot who spent all her time picking up after people who were more than capable of doing so themselves. She’d done enough of that with Adam, thanks anyway.
Rolling her eyes at the chaos, she skirted around the edge of the room, passing the kitchenette on her left. All meals were supplied by Allan, but if anyone wanted a midnight snack, the facilities were available.
Knocking on the door opposite, Avery listened patiently, then opened it. The large, tiled room was empty, but there was more evidence of her roommates’ presence in the form of open makeup bags and someone’s tampon wrapper on the counter.
Ick.
The air was warm and damp, suggesting the others were out taking advantage of their club benefits. They were probably in the bar, eyeing up all the available Doms and flirting like shameless peahens. If they got lucky, they’d return home on wobbly legs, but if not…
Avery scowled.
The last time none of them had hooked up, they’d staggered into the cabin at almost 2 am, escorted by one of the security teams. Drunker than a raccoon trapped in a barrel of whisky, noisier than elephants in clogs, they’d brought her out of a dead sleep and almost given her a fucking heart attack.
Please, God, not tonight. She was too tired.
Checking each of the four shower stalls for cleanliness, she chose the one least contaminated by plastic shower gel bottles and disposable razors. One even had what appeared to be a wig blocking the drain, formed from several different hair lengths and colors.
One of the perks of living here was the housekeeping service—no cleaning, no laundry—but the actual housekeepers who lived here apparently liked to play roulette with who pulled the shift for cleaning up their own shit. Either that, or they figured they may as well get paid on company time.
Stripping off her clothes, Avery tossed them in the hamper with the cabin letter and her room number on it. She flickedon the water, raising the temperature so warmth would pummel her aching muscles when she stepped under the spray, then crossed to the sinks, pulling a towel from the cupboard beneath.
She wasn’t the tidiest person in the world, she knew that. Sometimes her brain just perused her heaps of disorganization and skipped over it. Other times, it couldn’t rest until everything was in its proper place.
But these bitches were just gross.
Avery hung the towel on the hook outside the cubicle, then slid under the water with a moan of appreciation. Tepid water pattered heavily over her skin; the bosses hadn’t skimped on water pressure.
For a few long, wonderful seconds, she let it flow over her, washing away the stress of the very long day. As her thoughts flickered toward how much progress she’d made on the cake, how much she had left to do, the image of the final piece wavered into faces she had no business daydreaming about in the shower.
Of course, morality was negligible in her own head, wasn’t it?
Both Clay and Tristan were two attractive men, although she doubted there was a similarity between them. Clay was country, through and through—he probably bled greener than the fields his beloved cows grazed on, while Tristan was the picture of wealthy, spoiled socialite, primped and polished, with the scent of money all over him.
Still, that didn’t stop the fantasy rolling through her head. Fantasies of hands cupping her breasts, squeezing them, lifting them to soft lips and hard teeth to be worshipped.
A golden head between her legs; a thick cock pressed against her ass…
