Page 24 of Wardrobe Malfunction

Reaching the door, I check the peephole. Never can be too careful. I might go under a pseudo name in hotels, but the fans always seem to have a way of finding me.

Nope, not a stalker fan. Her. Ball-Sack-Stabbing Chick.

I swing the door open. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Oh. Hi. I spoke to your PA, Alex. He told me where to find you.”

Alex is so fired.

“What do you want?” I frown.

“To…um…” She shifts nervously, biting her lip. Her lips are glossy and painted red. She’s dressed in a different outfit from earlier as well.

It’s surprising that I remember what she was wearing earlier. But I do. I remember because I liked the way her tits looked in the top she was wearing.

Now, she’s got on one of those jumpsuits that women seem to like wearing nowadays. It’s short, showing off a gorgeous pair of long legs. She has heeled sandals on her feet. I notice her toenails are painted red, like her lips. Lifting my eyes, I see the necklace she’s wearing has fallen into her cleavage.

I instantly have dirty thoughts about putting something else between her cleavage.

My dick pokes his head up.

Whoa. Down, boy. Crazy lady who tried to take one of your boys out, remember?

“Well? I haven’t got all day.” I’m being an ass, which isn’t like me. But then again, I’ve never been stabbed in the junk by a chick before.

Anger flashes in her eyes, but it’s quickly gone, and I’m oddly disappointed.

I kind of liked arguing with her earlier even if I was in pain. Arguing with her felt like foreplay.

“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice a little more pronounced than before.

I sigh and then stand aside, letting her in.

As she passes me, I get a whiff of raspberries and vanilla. It makes my head spin.

I shut the door and follow her into the living area.

“Nice place,” she says, her eyes taking in the space.

“It’s okay, I guess. So, what can I do for you?” I ask, folding my arms, leaning my ass against the back of the sofa.

She presses her hands together in front of her. “I came to apologize again, Mr. West. And, also, to thank you for not having me fired. I want you to know I appreciate it. Really, I do. And I shouldn’t have yelled at you; I was totally out of line. And what happened earlier”—she nods south, at my junk—“has never happened before. I swear, I’m a total professional, and I really am good at my job.”

“Opinions vary.”

She sucks in a breath, anger flashing through her eyes. Then, she blows out a calming breath.

A sick part of me is enjoying this. Watching her squirm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like someone stabbed me in one of my balls with a pin.”

She grimaces. “I honestly don’t know what happened.”

“I do. You weren’t paying attention to what you were doing.”

Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Very slowly, she closes her mouth.