Fired by my Grumpy Dragon (Grumpy Monster Bosses #3)

NINETEEN

Loren

I wake from an absolutely delicious dream where a thick, spikey cock fills my pussy and another stuffs my ass full. The feeling is so intense that I’m pinned in place, hands clutching my legs, spreading myself wider. A strong body drives into mine.

When I look for his face, I can’t make it out. It’s blurred in that way that dreams sometimes have. But when I start to come, I blink and the blur resolves into Kivrayn’s too-handsome face.

My eyes fly open and my hand slides down my body to my pussy.

I’m wet.

Throbbing.

My belly is sticky, coated with dried patches of come I didn’t wash off last night in my rush to leave his hotel room.

I stretch. My body feels loose and relaxed, a testament to how hard I came last night. It’s markedly unfair that I feel amazing when it’s Kivrayn who’s responsible.

It’s actually reassuring when I sit and pressure on my temples turns into a pounding headache. It’d be weird if I felt too good today after how much I drank .

I’m reminded of Kivrayn telling me to drink water as I left his hotel room in a huff. Advice I probably should have followed. Only him telling me had the opposite effect.

I groan as I stumble to the bathroom and switch on the hot water for a shower; the throbbing in my head only growing worse the more I move around.

At least that explains why I fucked him, right?

My judgment was impaired. I can’t be held responsible for making bad choices when I was drunk and horny.

My god, was I horny last night. I tip my head back to let the hot water sluice down my back and shut my eyes.

I was so horny. And he made me come so hard.

So unfair that such a jerk would somehow know exactly how to touch my body in all the right ways.

I press my thighs together as another wave of need makes my pussy tingle. Not rubbing one out to the thought of Kivrayn. Not happening.

I need to find a way to get Jenny to agree to give me the collection so I can get out of here and get back to work and forget all about him. Maybe I need to try a different angle. Maybe if I can find out what happened with her kids, then I can make sure I come at things differently. That’s delicate, though. I’d have to get one of them to trust me and open up.

I towel myself off and pluck my phone from the bedside table.

Jenny has a son and two daughters. The daughters live in London, but the son lives in Cambridge which, when I google, is about an hour’s drive away. That’s doable .

I get the feeling I’ll be more successful convincing the son to see me rather than either of her daughters. I usually create a better first impression with men than women.

All except Kivrayn, that is.

By the time I’m standing in line for coffee at the nearest Coffee Casa, I have the address and a game plan. If I’m careful, I’ll be able to pretend I want to work with him. That I’ll collaborate to win the collection and hand most of it over to him after subtracting my fee and recouping the costs. I can say I’m particularly interested in one item, but that I’d cooperate to make sure both our interests align.

Reluctant to take a cab that far, and even more reluctant to use public transport, I make a call to a car rental company and actually manage to secure something last minute. It’s with a swelling surge of satisfaction that I put the key into the ignition forty minutes later and pull out of the parking lot on my way to Cambridge.

It takes me a little while to feel comfortable behind the wheel. For a start, they drive on the wrong side of the road here in the UK, but it’s been a long time since I’ve driven at all. I don’t own a car. In Heartstone I’ve no reason to.

By the time I’m half a dozen songs into my playlist and the GPS cuts in to tell me to take a left turn, I’m all over it. Except the damn intersection is a roundabout, and I forget that I’m supposed to go around clockwise instead of counterclockwise. After a loud beep from another car and a hair-raising few moments, I get myself back on the correct side of the road. Stupid country where they drive on the wrong side of the road with their stupid narrow roads that are more like alleyways.

I give the finger to the person behind me who insists on driving too close. What’s the speed limit around here anyway?

Damn. Why is this so hard?

It’s at that exact moment I realize I’ve strayed onto the wrong side of the road again. I shriek, overcorrect, and end up in a gutter on the shoulder on the left side of the road. My heart is beating way too fast, and my hands shake as I switch into reverse and put my foot on the accelerator.

The car revs and... Nothing. I go nowhere. I check the handbrake. It’s off. There’s no reason I should be stalled! The engine is running. Everything is on.

What the hell?

I throw the door open, almost hit a cyclist coming past me, and haul myself from the car to look at the damage.

I can’t see anything wrong. So why is the damn thing not working?

I stomp around to the front of the car and spot the problem immediately. The left front wheel is stuck in a ditch and dark splatters cover the side of the car from where it’s spun in the mud and wedged me deeper.

Shit.

I push hard against the hood of the car, but it’s useless. It doesn’t budge.

What am I supposed to do now? I fish my phone from my pocket and glare down at it. My current plan doesn’t allow for international roaming. I didn’t think I’d need it. There’s wi-fi everywhere but here in the middle of the highway.

Well great.

I can’t call for help. I guess I’ll just sit here until some good Samaritan—or serial killer—stops to give me a lift.

I slump against the side of the car and stare at the road. There’s not a car in sight.

In fact, the only thing I notice after ten minutes is a strangely shaped dark shadow which falls across the road in front of me.

Odd. Last time I looked there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. And believe me, I noticed, because it’s rained every other day this week.

Probably about to rain on me now, just to rub salt in the wound.

I look up to check how bad the situation is and discover it’s not a cloud at all. Oh no. It’s a dragon, flying right above me.

I laugh as he starts to descend. I’d recognize the particular shade of chartreuse anywhere.

Of course it’s Kivrayn. It doesn’t seem to matter where I go. Somehow I cannot escape him. As if the universe is really, really set on fucking with me.