Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Bennett
I don’t know how I expected this to play out when I tried calling her bluff, but Ezra and Kindra were never a factor. Yet here they stand, eyes wide and jaws hitting the floor as Cat and I fall off opposite sides of the bed.
“Kindra! Oh my god, look away!” Cat squeals. Judging by the shuffle of fabric and the way the comforter disappears to the other side of the bed, she’s pulled it down to cover herself.
I tuck my stiff dick into my pants and debate standing up. Despite faking my enthusiasm, the erection was real, and it doesn’t want to go down, even in spite of this horrifying outcome.
Peeking over the side of the mattress, I spot Ezra and Kindra in the doorway with their backs to us.
“We thought someone was being murdered in here,” Ezra says. “I’m glad you two are getting along so famously now, but maybe tone it down a bit.”
Cat has used the comforter to conceal her front, but her ass faces me in all of its glory as she rises to stand. I might despise the girl, but her perfectly full cheeks scream well-done BBL. She claims she’s all natural, but no one gets these dimensions without a lot of work, and I’ve never seen her in the gym.
“It isn’t what you think,” she says.
Kindra dares to turn around. “We walked in to both of you pleasuring yourselves and screaming out in the throes of passion. What else are we supposed to think?”
“She told me she wanted to pay me back for saving her life, didn’t you, kitten?” I say as I stand. The boner has retreated, though looking at Cat’s ass didn’t help things along.
“Don’t call me kitten! And you didn’t save my life, remember?”
“Either way, you started it,” I say.
“And I’m finishing it.” Ezra turns around. “Dinner begins in exactly thirty minutes, and if you aren’t in the dining hall at precisely that time, you will go hungry. I have worked too hard to orchestrate this retreat for the two of you to make a dog’s dinner of it. Understood?”
Cat and I nod in unison. Ezra doesn’t put on his serious face often, but when he does, I’ve learned to pretend I’m listening. Nothing—not even my brother’s stern looks—will deter me from making Cat miserable.
“Guess I’d better throw something on and get to the dining hall,” I say as I walk across the room, fully clothed.
That earns a frustrated grumble from Cat. Her hair is a mess, she’s still nearly naked, and she doesn’t have enough time to shower before dinner. She’ll have to sit beside Maverick while looking like a woman who’s just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
Everything worked in my favor.
Per usual.
I slip past Ezra and Kindra and head for my room, which is only a few feet away. My brother’s eyes burn a hole in my back as I make my retreat.
I don’t know why he’s so goddamned butthurt about this. Even after Cat announced her plans to attend, he invited me to this retreat. Hell, he practically begged me to come. Did he expect me to leave her alone? Does my brother know me at all?
I go to the dresser in my room and pull a wrinkled t-shirt and some jeans from a drawer. Unlike Cat, I have no desire to impress anyone here. Or elsewhere, for that matter. When a woman falls in love with me, it’s usually when the clothes are off anyway.
After washing my hands in the bathroom—I’m not a total slob—I head to the stupid double staircase and spot Maverick on the landing. He’s standing with Ice Pick.
I give the men a wave, and they wave back, but I don’t head over to join their discussion. If I want to make sure I’m seated beside Cat, I need to hurry to the dining room and check the name cards. While forcing her to sit beside her crush while she looks like a bedraggled sea monster is tempting, I’ve decided it will be more enjoyable to witness her misery from a closer vantage point.
Unlike the dining room on the island, this place lacks the single massive table that runs the length of the room. Instead, it’s set up more like an event space, with several round tables dotted about.
I travel through the tables and search for my name. My designated place waits between Ice Pick and Grim. That won’t do. I pluck my card from the snowflake table setting and hurry to find Maverick’s card. That’s who Kindra has put beside Cat. I’d bet my bike on it.
Sure enough, I find the two cards side by side. I feel a little guilty for moving Maverick to a different table, since he’s like family to Ezra and me, but his conversation with Ice Pick seemed amicable enough, so I don’t feel too terrible about what I’m doing. By the time I swap the cards and take my seat, the guilt has already subsided.
Minutes later, the guests begin filing in. Maudlin Rose and Grim enter together, followed by a handful of people I don’t recognize. Maverick and Ice Pick aren’t far behind, closely followed by Jim, Ezra, and Kindra. Those three are at my table.
Well, the table I’ve commandeered.
“Bennett, how have you been?” Jim approaches and brings me into an awkward hug. “Your brother has worked wonders with this retreat, has he not?”
“Kindra gets most of the credit,” Ezra says as he takes his seat. “For someone who thinks home decorating is an elitist hobby, she certainly took to it like a duck to water.”
“More like a chicken in water,” Kindra says. “You sort of shoved me in, so I had to sink or swim.”
“Where’s our little blonde friend this evening?” Jim looks around the dining room. “I so enjoy seeing her ensembles. Such a fine figure, too.”
Poor Jim. He’s overcompensating again.
Not quite ready to come out of the closet, he tries to pile on covers so we won’t see who he truly is. I am not a compassionate man, but even my steel-lined heart breaks for him. None of us gives a flying shit about his sexuality, and we’ve all known his preferences for years. But we also understand that he has to make the choice to reveal this to us in his own time, so we just play along.
“Too bad she doesn’t have the brain to match,” I say with a laugh, but no one joins in. I clear my throat. “Kindra, you were with her earlier. Will she be joining us for dinner?”
“Actually, no. She was feeling a bit tired, so she’s going to stay in her room for the evening. I’ll have Chef send something up for her.”
Another plan ruined. I sink in my seat and try to find a reason to exist that doesn’t involve torturing Cat.
But then, an idea strikes me.
When Cat ate the fruit salad at the summer retreat, she thought I’d dished up the same pineapple I’d dicked down. I never corrected her because I was too ashamed that I hadn’t thought of it first. Now I have a chance to make her eat something I’ve shoved my dick into.
I excuse myself from the table to a round of suspicious looks. They know I’m up to something, but they can’t prove it. Thanks to Cat’s brief tour earlier today, I know exactly where I’m going, so I don’t even need to ask for directions. As far as they’re concerned, I’m just making a trip to the bathroom.
When I’m certain no one is looking, I slip through the door to the kitchen. Pure chaos echoes off the walls of stainless steel—that’s the only way to describe it.
“No, no, no !” Chef Maurice shouts as he tosses a pot of scalding soup at one of the kitchen staff.
Boiling liquid melts the man’s skin, and the worker collapses in a writhing, screaming heap. I consider myself a pretty hardened killer, but I think I just found my hard limit. Having your skin seared off is a pretty shit way to go.
“Don’t just stand there!” Chef shouts at another worker. “Take him to the freezer! I have no use for a man who over-seasons my food. I said a sprinkle of salt, not a pinch!”
A woman in a white apron grabs the man’s feet and begins dragging him toward the walk-in freezer. Thankfully, the hot liquid didn’t reach that part of his body, so his skin doesn’t slide off. Unfortunately, it did land on his face, which is now scraping the floor and leaving a pretty gruesome trail.
“You just can’t find good help these days,” I say with a shake of my head.
Chef Maurice agrees with a curt nod.
Now that I have him on my side, it’s time to lay it on a little thicker. Nothing gets through to this man quicker than a compliment, even if it’s a lie.
“Say, Chef, you wouldn’t happen to have something I can take to a guest’s room, would you? She’s not feeling well, but we want to make sure she gets to enjoy your incredible food.”
“Oh, of course! I can prepare a quick-service plate. No soup and salad, but she can have the entrée, which is roasted pheasant with a lemon-dill sauce, mashed potatoes, asparagus spears, and scones.”
“She’s going to love it,” I say with a devilish smirk.
Chef totters off to prepare the plate, and within minutes, I’m weaving through the backstage corridors with a cloche-covered dish in my hands and a bounce in every step.
Before I head to her room, I go to mine first. Mashed potatoes are a favorite of Cat’s, but they appear to be missing something. I know just the thing to make them taste even better.
I place the dish on an ottoman in the corner of the room and remove the cloche. Fragrant steam rushes up to greet me. Now I’m almost sad I’ll miss dinner, but the results will be more satisfying than any meal.
But there’s another problem. I just planned to stick my dick into the potatoes a few times and serve them to her, but now that I feel the heat rising from the plate, I’m worried about third-degree burns. As soon as the heat travels into my king’s crown piercing, I’ll also scream like a girl.
I fan the food with my hand and blow on it, but it’s not working fast enough. Does this plate hold in heat or something? I pull off my shirt and use that to create more air movement than I can with my mouth. Her dinner won’t be piping hot, but that’s fine. I’m sure she’ll still dig right in.
After unzipping my jeans, I look down at the plate with a smirk. “Come to daddy.”
I’ve just driven my dick into the mashed potatoes when I hear a knock at my door. For fuck’s sake. I haven’t been gone long enough for anyone to come looking for me, and besides that, I don’t need a fucking babysitter.
I use my finger to repair the large dent in the potatoes, and then I tuck my dick away and head for the door. What I find on the other side isn’t what I expect.
“I heard you come back from dinner pretty early,” she says. I don’t miss the way her eyes flit to my exposed chest before rising back to my face. “What are you planning? Haven’t you done enough damage for today?”
My mind scrambles for an excuse. “I was just about to bring you a plate. Kindra said you weren’t feeling well.”
“But you had to come to your room first?” Her eyebrow rises, and before I can stop her, the little cockroach drops beneath my arm and wiggles into my room.
It doesn’t take her long to spot the plate on the ottoman. With the way the artificial sunlight streams in and lands right on it, it’s practically in a spotlight. She looks from the ottoman to me.
“You really are sick,” she says. “Is it the smell of the food that compels you to fuck it, or is it something about the way it looks?”
“I wasn’t going to fuck anything. The cloche must have fallen off when I set it down so I could change into something more comfortable.”
“More comfortable than a t-shirt and jeans?”
“Take the food or don’t, but get the fuck out of my room.”
I step toward her and reach out to grab her arm, but she ducks beneath my grasp.
“Your pants are unzipped and you’re shirtless,” she says. “You’ve probably already violated that poor pheasant, and there’s no way in hell I’m eating it now. I’d rather starve.”
“Suit yourself, then.” I shrug and walk toward the ottoman.
“What are you doing?”
“If you aren’t going to eat it, I’m not going to waste it. I’ve already missed dinner, so I might as well make the most of the food you don’t want because you’re paranoid.” I sit on the edge of the bed and wave the plate beneath my nose. “Man, this smells amazing.”
“So it is the smell,” she says with a curl of her lip. “Give me that.”
I pretend to tug the plate out of her grasp as she reaches for it, but I only do enough to make her believe I don’t want her to have it. Because that makes her want it more. She plucks the plate from my hands and starts for her room. It’s a shame I won’t get to witness the moment she puts the potatoes into her mouth, but I can always fantasize. Besides, I need to plan for tomorrow.
Once the door closes behind her, I grab the event sheet and look at what’s on offer for the first official day. It’s hard to decide what to plan for when I don’t know what Cat will be doing, though. Then a note about tomorrow evening’s festivities catches my eye.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and there will be a party to celebrate. The brochure promises dancing and drinks and masked fun in the ballroom following dinner. After that, we’ll go to the natatorium to watch fireworks through the wall of windows while we remain in a heated room. I don’t know how we’ll all fit in there unless some of us are in the pool, though.
I guess I’ll find out tomorrow night. The party is mandatory, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. If Cat thinks she’s going to kiss Maverick at midnight, she’s only setting herself up for disappointment. For now, I’ll just have to be content with knowing the girl is in the next room with my dick in her mouth.