Free ROYAL by Winter Renshaw Page A

office, where
Pandora’s father sits at a computer, his classic rock turned way too loud. The
man’s covered in tattoos, he served two tours of duty, and he has a smile
filled with gold from one too many bar fights. That old son of a bitch is tough
as nails and rough around the edges, but he gave me a job when no one else
would.
    “Where were you last night?” Pandora hunches over the
counter, wiggling her ass and grinning. “Tried texting you. Not like you to
pass up a chance with the boss’s daughter.”
    My gaze snaps toward Rod in his office, who’s completely
oblivious. Fucking the boss’s daughter isn’t my proudest accomplishment, but damn
if she doesn’t remind me of a white trash version of my only weakness.
    Sometimes, in his most desperate hours, a man has to settle.
    “Come on,” she says. “I know it turns you on just as much as
it turns me on.”
    Pandora Patterson is Demi Rosewood’s cheap alter-ego. Raven
hair. Full lips. Big tits. Curves for days. Round, blue eyes. Pandora’s just a
little edgier. Less refined. Sleeves of tats. Garish red lips. A throaty laugh.
A perpetual perfume of stale cigarettes and spilled drinks. She’s sure as fuck
no substitute for the real thing, but I’m a man with limited options, and
Pandora never once judged my situation.
    “Told you,” I say. “We can’t do that anymore.”
    She pouts and drags a pointed fingernail down her cheek like
she’s crying. Slinking over to me, she slips her arm around my shoulders.
    “God, Royal, you’re such a fucking tease.” Pandora rubs her
breasts against my chest and leans into my ear. “I thought about you last
night. Nothing else makes me cum harder than when I think about all those
naughty things you do to me in the back of the shop after Daddy leaves . . .”
    Pandora’s a kinky little slut. She gets off on the thrill of almost getting caught, and she loves
fucking the kind of men her daddy would chase with a shotgun. Even grizzly Rod
Patterson has standards for his wayward daughter.
    She runs her fingers through my hair, helping herself to a
handful and jerking my mouth toward hers. Her cigarette breath fills my lungs
when she laughs through her nose.
    “You’re so tortured,” she says. “You know that? I think
that’s why I can’t get you out of my head. I just want to fix you.”
    “Don’t need fixing.”
    “Everyone needs fixing.”
    “Doesn’t mean they want to be.”
    “Ugh. You’re so stubborn.” She smacks my chest. “And damaged
and guarded.”
    Her palm then slides to the front of my pants before she
cups my junk. I suppose this would be considered sexual harassment, but it
doesn’t bother me. I’ve been through worse shit than a big-titted sex-addict
feeling on me. Pandora gives my cock a gentle squeeze and stares into my eyes.
The sound of her dad tapping his booted foot along to CCR’s Fortunate Son in his office just fifteen
feet away sends a quick sweat down my back.
    I can’t afford to lose this job.
    “And I fucking love it.” She releases me from her clutches and returns to the reception desk to
answer a ringing phone. “Patterson Auto Body.”
    Pandora slips a nail between her lips and winks my way.
    “Didn’t want to talk to you either.” She slams the phone
down, shrugging. When her shoulders move inward, her cleavage spills out of her
top. It’s intentional, no question. “No one there.”
    A rusting, bumper-less Lincoln pulls up outside. Guessing
they need an estimate. I head to the desk to grab a pen and clipboard. Pandora
wears a mischievous grin when I stride her way.
    “No,” I say.
    “What, are you a homo now?” She says it loud enough that her
dad could hear if his wasn’t so busy humming along to Sweet Home Alabama . Her hand hooks the curve above her left hip. “Stop
pretending you don’t want this anymore.”
    We had this talk weeks ago. Why she’s all over me now is
beyond me.
    “You trying to get me in trouble?” My tone is low yet sharp.
I shake