Page 16 of Missiletoe
Chapter5
Vix
Who the fuck was Sylvia?
It was the only thing my brain was focusing on, so the second Baz got back to my room, I pounced on him. My legs were still all wibbly-wobbly, so it was less of a pounce and more of a flop that sent us both to the floor.
My Olaf stuffie followed us down, landing next to my foot, and I hoped to all the gods in the world that Paris hadn’t seen it on my bed while I’d been asleep. What if he thought I was just a stupid kid? I kicked it under my bed even though Paris was no longer around to see it.
Then I got down to important business and demanded, “Who the fuck is Sylvia?!” Once a hyper fixation kicks in, my brain takes no prisoners. I wasn’t going to let it go until I found out.
“Small, adorable, and sweet, if I’m any judge of things,” Baz said with an infuriating smirk.
“So you don’t know?”
“Do I know intimate personal details of the giant rando you took a nap on after sneaking out today? Let me see…” Baz tapped his chin like the enormous asshole he was as he stretched out the suspense. “Nope, can’t say that I do. I was too busy compromising my morals by letting a complete stranger into our home because you ran away!”
“Pfft, like you have morals.” I hopped off Baz and toppled backward onto one of my sharper projects. Now I had wobbly legs, a potentially broken heart, and a perforated ass. “Ow…”
“Shit, honey, are you okay?” Baz did that ninja thing he does where he goes from his back to his feet in a split second, ending up in a graceful crouch at my side. He yanked down my pants without asking and ran his fingers across my aching derriere before saying, “Good. You didn’t break the skin. Also, I do have morals. Maybe guidelines would be a better term. No, that’s still not it.”
“Capricious whims?” I wrestled control of my pants from Baz and pulled them back up.
“Yes! That’s the one. You’re the brains to my brawn, love.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?” I was on my feet and pacing, picking my way through the piles of carefully laid out projects littering my floor.
“Probably fix the new itch ray you were working on. That thing is flatter than a pancake now.” Baz picked up a switch I had snapped off when I’d fallen on the device.
I toed the pieces with my foot and sighed. “I might as well start over. Ten weeks of work and I’ve only been able to make someone’s balls itch. I really want a full-body experience, you know?”
I had learned the hard way that a determined person could keep running with itchy balls. I needed to make everything on them itch so they’d be stopped dead in their tracks.
“I don’t know, your test subject seemed to find it very distracting. That was fucking fun to watch, by the way.”
“It didn’t distract Gareth enough when we tested it on him. He still caught us, and I was wearing my fast shoes!” I rubbed my poor ass in remembrance of the retribution Gareth had inflicted on it. He'd even pinned down Baz with his foot and made sure to tan his ass too once he was done with me.
When we’d signed on with Gareth, we’d been given a choice as to what kind of discipline we would accept when we broke the rules. Like horny dumbasses, Baz and I had both written in our contracts that we wanted to be spanked. Baz and I had treated the whole thing like a joke.
Gareth hadn’t.
Both of our asses had been bright red once he’d felt we’d learned our lesson about using him as a test subject. And I did! I’d soup up my wheelies the next time I tested something on Gareth without his permission.
I don’t know what Baz learned. Probably to stop trying to drag me with him as he made his escape.
I was about to tell Baz I hadn’t been talking about my invention but rather my newfound crush on Paris, but I stopped cold.
I wanted to tell Baz what was going on inside me. I mean, he was Baz.
I tell Baz EVERYTHING. Except how much I hate the color of our car because he loves it so much. It’s the small things we do for our loved ones that make the biggest difference.
But I couldn’t talk to him about the Paris thing. It was too new. Too private. I was afraid if I told him that my attraction to Paris was more than the five seconds of attention my squirrel brain gave to every handsome face I saw, he’d go ballistic.
I bit my lip and decided to talk about anything else.
“So this isn’t a distraction or anything, but I’m really hungry. Can we go eat?”
Baz’s eye twitched.
