36 Inches (Size Matters 3)

“What … what’s all this?” I mumble, looking from Trevor to her. His eyes are so wide that they seem as if they’re about to explode any second now.

“This is Trevor’s cock,” she chuckles, and the sound of her voice is enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I knew Sienna wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world, but this… This is too much! “And this,” she continues, “is also you being fired.”

The moment fired rolls off her tongue, Trevor places both his hands on top of Sienna’s head and groans. A fraction of a second later and his cock blasts a thick rope of cum straight into her face.

Okay, think, Cara.

What would a strong woman do? What would a woman in one of Abby’s books do? Grab a fire poker and break Trevor’s dick in half? No, I can’t stand the sight of blood. Livestream all this onto Facebook and show the world who they truly are? No, I’d die of embarrassment.

What if I kick him in the balls and slap the shit out of her? Oh, and what if I set fire to her whole office? No more ARCs to worry about then. Maybe I’ll just throw their clothes out the window ... or maybe I can throw them out the window.

No, I need something. Something else, something...

Oh, yes. This is it. Evil, refined, and definitely the kind of punishment Sienna won’t forget about.

Gritting my teeth, I cross the room in two wide strides, closing the distance between me and Sienna. Trevor takes one step back, visibly afraid of what I might do, but Sienna simply stands up slowly, beads of cum dripping down her face.

“Why?” I ask her, but she just shrugs at me.

“PAs are a dime a dozen, Cara. And I always hated how you’re always reading that stuff from Naughty Angel. You’ve been acting like a little bitch, and I’m pretty sure you’re the one who has been fucking up my ARCs. You want Naughty Angel to succeed so much that you're willing to fuck me over. Consider this payback,” she laughs, wiping the cum off her lips with the back of her hand. “Now get the fuck out of my office and —”

I don’t even let her finish. I just take one hand to my mouth, push the chewing gum to my teeth and spit it out onto the open palm of my hand. “Here,” I growl, my hand flying straight into her hair, “consider this my resignation letter.”

I feel the chewing gum sticking right to her scalp, and I almost feel bad for her. But then again, Sienna is the last person on Earth I could feel sorry about right now. Besides, every girl loves a trip to the hairdresser; she’ll just have to schedule hers earlier. As in this morning.

I can’t help but grin as I watch her eyes widen in pure shock, and I take a step back as she runs her fingers through her hair and realizes what I just did. Her precious long hair just had a close encounter with a disgruntled personal assistant. Word of advice: never fuck with a PA.

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!” She yells, jumping toward me with her arms stretched out. Reacting fast, I simply sidestep her, and she runs right into Trevor. He tries to hold her, but with his pants around his ankles, he falls off balance and trips on Sienna’s laptop cable, dragging the computer and everything on the desk to the floor. He falls on the floor like a block of concrete, pulling Sienna after him, and I just stare down at them.

“Cara, please,” Trevor groans from under Sienna, reaching out for me with one hand. “I didn’t mean to —”

Without even thinking, I lift one foot up and bring it down, stamping my heel right on the back of his hand. “You didn’t mean to, huh?" I ask h

im, looking down at him as Sienna tries to untangle herself from the laptop cable. “But you did. Now there’s only one thing you can do for me.”

“What, Cara? What?”

“You can fuck off,” I tell him and, with a smirk, I turn on my heels and leave.

I’ve been a good girl all my life, and it’s always like this—cheating boyfriends, backstabbing assholes, and people stepping on you the moment they have the chance.

I’m tired of being nice; I’m tired of playing by the rules. It’s high time I put a stop to all of that, kick all niceness to the curb, and start kicking some ass.

I promise you: this isn’t a ride you’ll want to miss. Just grab my hand and come with me.

Chapter 2

Derek

"Hey, Mr. Mixologist," the woman says, snapping her fingers in the air. "Over here. Do you see me?"

If its one thing I hate it's customer's calling me over like a dog. And what is up with everyone using the word 'mixologist' these days? Standing here, behind this bar, slinging drinks, I'm a fucking bartender.

I'm tending this bar. I'm serving drinks.

I'm not some arm-garter wearing, handlebar mustache sporting elixir mixer.

It's simple: I like my liquor brown, and I like my beer cold.