A Little Taste of Naughty (A Shattered Lives Short) by Rissa Blakeley Page B
Authors: Rissa Blakeley
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the stack of books and took a peek at what he had.
“Buying for your girlfriend?” She smirked with a raised brow.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, for her birthday.” Henry took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. “I don’t get her desire to read that stuff.” The black-haired beauty nodded.
“This one for you?” she asked as she scanned the art history book.
“Yeah. Always had an interest in it.”
Once again, she flashed him a gentle smile. “I love art history.”
“You’re not flirting with the customers again, are you?” They both jumped. A middle-aged woman scowled as she scooted behind the counter.
“What? No! Geez!” She was angered by the comment. Henry slyly smirked as he pulled the cash out of his wallet, instead of pulling out his fancy black credit card. He didn’t want her to see his name since he was trying to keep a low profile. She gave him his change, handed him the receipt, and he left the store without another glance.
She was on top of his list, for more reasons than one. All that was left to do was to watch her from afar to figure out the right time to introduce himself. Henry walked around the block, hopped in his company-issue blacked-out Chevrolet Tahoe, and headed off to work.
“Morning, bossman,” Jennifer said in her usual singsong voice as he walked in the doors.
“Jennifer.” Henry nodded at his receptionist as he walked by. “Any calls?”
“We need to set up a transfer to St. Francis. They are getting low on ‘O’ and ‘A’.”
“Alright. Thanks.” Henry marched into his office.
Once he stepped into his office, he closed the door and locked it. He hung his hat on one hook on the back of the door, then peeled off his hoodie, placing it on the other hook. Everything was is in its proper place.
Henry’s office was the typical bright white office. He found it obnoxious on those mornings when he knew he should have left the bar hours and several drinks before he had.
The furniture was all light gray, streamlined, and neat as a pin. For once in his life, he would love to be able to have a book or a piece of paper out of place. But, because of his training, it was nearly impossible to allow himself to do that.
He rolled his neck, realizing that he needed his fix.
Henry was the only one with the combination to the lock on his mini-fridge. His employees were clueless as to what it held. They just thought he was paranoid that someone would take his drinks or food.
He turned the dial with precision and opened the fridge. He shuddered, knowing what he was about to do. Then he unlocked his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the near empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. His eyes glanced over at the cool piece of steel that laid beside it.
“Fuck me,” he grumbled. He had forgotten to grab another bottle before he left his place that morning. He popped the tops off the vials and tipped them back. In one swift move, he opened the bottle of alcohol and drained what was left. Nothing like a lifeline with a whiskey chaser.
Henry sat back in his chair for a moment, waiting for his muscles and joints to free up. He took a few deep breaths. Suddenly, erotic thoughts drove hard through his tainted brain, the black-haired beauty at the bookshop being the star. He closed his eyes, envisioning mounting her, grabbing her ass, and letting go. He wanted to make her come around him, over and over again. He wanted to hear her scream out his name. He felt a stirring in his body.
“Shit.” His jeans tightened, causing him discomfort. He got up and adjusted himself. “Fuck.” He knew his hard-on wasn’t going to go away so he went to his bathroom. He decided to relieve himself and just be done with it.
Henry closed and locked the bathroom door. Two locked doors were better than one. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and he felt better with a little freedom. He began the annoying process. Stroking slow, but firm, grasping tight on the tip for an extra burst of
“Buying for your girlfriend?” She smirked with a raised brow.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, for her birthday.” Henry took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. “I don’t get her desire to read that stuff.” The black-haired beauty nodded.
“This one for you?” she asked as she scanned the art history book.
“Yeah. Always had an interest in it.”
Once again, she flashed him a gentle smile. “I love art history.”
“You’re not flirting with the customers again, are you?” They both jumped. A middle-aged woman scowled as she scooted behind the counter.
“What? No! Geez!” She was angered by the comment. Henry slyly smirked as he pulled the cash out of his wallet, instead of pulling out his fancy black credit card. He didn’t want her to see his name since he was trying to keep a low profile. She gave him his change, handed him the receipt, and he left the store without another glance.
She was on top of his list, for more reasons than one. All that was left to do was to watch her from afar to figure out the right time to introduce himself. Henry walked around the block, hopped in his company-issue blacked-out Chevrolet Tahoe, and headed off to work.
“Morning, bossman,” Jennifer said in her usual singsong voice as he walked in the doors.
“Jennifer.” Henry nodded at his receptionist as he walked by. “Any calls?”
“We need to set up a transfer to St. Francis. They are getting low on ‘O’ and ‘A’.”
“Alright. Thanks.” Henry marched into his office.
Once he stepped into his office, he closed the door and locked it. He hung his hat on one hook on the back of the door, then peeled off his hoodie, placing it on the other hook. Everything was is in its proper place.
Henry’s office was the typical bright white office. He found it obnoxious on those mornings when he knew he should have left the bar hours and several drinks before he had.
The furniture was all light gray, streamlined, and neat as a pin. For once in his life, he would love to be able to have a book or a piece of paper out of place. But, because of his training, it was nearly impossible to allow himself to do that.
He rolled his neck, realizing that he needed his fix.
Henry was the only one with the combination to the lock on his mini-fridge. His employees were clueless as to what it held. They just thought he was paranoid that someone would take his drinks or food.
He turned the dial with precision and opened the fridge. He shuddered, knowing what he was about to do. Then he unlocked his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the near empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. His eyes glanced over at the cool piece of steel that laid beside it.
“Fuck me,” he grumbled. He had forgotten to grab another bottle before he left his place that morning. He popped the tops off the vials and tipped them back. In one swift move, he opened the bottle of alcohol and drained what was left. Nothing like a lifeline with a whiskey chaser.
Henry sat back in his chair for a moment, waiting for his muscles and joints to free up. He took a few deep breaths. Suddenly, erotic thoughts drove hard through his tainted brain, the black-haired beauty at the bookshop being the star. He closed his eyes, envisioning mounting her, grabbing her ass, and letting go. He wanted to make her come around him, over and over again. He wanted to hear her scream out his name. He felt a stirring in his body.
“Shit.” His jeans tightened, causing him discomfort. He got up and adjusted himself. “Fuck.” He knew his hard-on wasn’t going to go away so he went to his bathroom. He decided to relieve himself and just be done with it.
Henry closed and locked the bathroom door. Two locked doors were better than one. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and he felt better with a little freedom. He began the annoying process. Stroking slow, but firm, grasping tight on the tip for an extra burst of
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