Page 6 of Their Little Christmas Bounty
“Fuck you,” I call out, soaping up and rinsing off in record time.
It’s time to leave already?He better have found something good.We didn’t even get to sleep here.
“You’re driving.”I throw my duffel bag in the trunk.“I need a fucking nap.”
He flips me off but gets behind the wheel.
“So.”I recline my seat and pull my cap down.“How’d you find her?What’s this lead that you really think will pay off?”
“She didn’t mean to show it—part of a hotel logo.”
“Show it where?”
“You know.Those photos she uploaded to Kynkworld.”
Shit.I forgot her Kynkworld request.I scramble to raise my seat and pull out my phone.
“So much for your nap.”He laughs.
I bet he didn’t even finish jerking off before he yelled at me to get out of the shower.He always puts the job first, before fun.Sucker.
I quickly navigate to the app, find Ariel’s request, and accept it.I click on her profile.
The fucking motherlode.Holy shit, she’s gorgeous.Full, round tits.That mouth I want to kiss.Her skin looks so soft.I want to bite her just there, between her bra strap and her neck.I’d bite her hard, leave a mark.
I whistle low.“This is a new account.”
“Yeah.”
“So she started it and uploaded all these shots…just for us.”
He scowls.“I don’t know about that.”
“Come on.You know she did.”
“We don’t know shit.”
I wave my phone in his line of vision—careful not to obstruct the road because I don’t have a death wish.“Look.All of this is new.She set this whole thing up—for us.”
His gaze is hard on the road.“So what if she did?”
“She’s playful.She’s a brat.She’s trying to get a reaction.”
He mutters something.It sounds like, “Well, it’s fucking working.”
“Eventually, she’ll get tired of teasing us.Or she’ll slip up.It’s all part of the game.”
“This isn’t a fucking game.”His scowl deepens.“It’s a job.She’s a job.”
He’s lying to himself, but I’ll let it go, for now.
Two hours later, we’re pulling up to Mirarosa Seashell Hotel.I wonder if Ariel’s username on Kynkworld is another clue—SeashellsOO.Are the O’s supposed to be boobs?
Then I realize—seashells.Because mermaids put them over their tits, and her name is Ariel.I grin to myself.She’s funny.
“Stop smiling like an idiot,” Austin snaps.“This is a job, not prom.”
I laugh as we get out of the car.This “hotel” is the kind of place with individual cottages for the guests.Each one has a little deck overlooking the ocean.
