Page 9 of Sinful Temptations
They giggled. “Hello.”
“Oh.” I laughed with them. “That’s easy enough to remember. Did I miss anyone?”
A young man with a nearly bald head and an enormous beard raised his hand.
“Ahh, yes, Mustafa, I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to say hello in Turkish.”
“Merhaba.”
“Merhaba,” I repeated. “Thank you. I learn something new every day.” It was another reason why leaving Europe, and in particular, this job was going to kill me.
Casting that bullshit aside, I said, “Hello, everyone, my name is Daisy. I’m your dominatrix—whoops—I mean tour guide for this twenty-day European Vacation Dreamz tour. Welcome aboard the best party bus in the fleet.”
A few people laughed. It was always a good sign. Sometimes I didn’t get a peep out of the tourists for days, like being with a bunch of strangers cramped their style. I could relate to that. It would take me a while to get them going. My job was to ensure they had a great time. I always did.
I hung up the microphone and strolled along the aisle, counting the passengers. Twenty-five. We were still one passenger short. “Okay, we are just waiting for one more victim. Once they’ve had their public flogging, we’ll get on our way.”
As I returned to the front, I overheard a comment about my bust size. It’d only been five minutes—my guess for this month had been ten. The comment had been an attempted whisper by Rory, the Australian man who’d sat toward the back of the bus with his wife, Dallas. Apparently, he wished I could share some of my abundant breasts with her.
Asshole!
I would’ve poked his eyeballs out. Dallas, however, playfully slapped him on the arm and told him to shush.
That was what I didn’t get about men. They didn’t realizethe encumbrances that came with mammoth breasts. They were heavy enough to cause back pain. They made it difficult to venture into sports like high jumping or beach volleyball. And duringthattime of the month, they pounded for attention like starving inmates at mealtime.
So yeah . . . having enormous breasts wasn’t all fun and games.
Unless, of course, they were being licked by a sexy Frenchman.
Or caressed by a stylishly tattooed millionaire with stunning smoky-gray eyes and an intense gaze.
A smile crawled across my lips, and I tried to rein it in but couldn’t as I climbed down the steps and strolled toward the side of the bus.
Roman poked his head out of the luggage hold and cocked his head. “What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing.”
He wriggled his brows. “Didn’t look like nothing.”
“Okay, it was something, but you don’t need to know.”
“Ahhh, so that’s how it is going to be, huh?”
“Maybe.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Someone’s in a happy mood.”
“Always.”
“You had a good break then? What’d you get up to?”
“I did a lot actually. I checked out a heap of London attractions, did some shopping, and I even got my nails done.” I waved my pretty red nails for his scrutiny.
“Nice. Glad to see you’re happy. Better than the grumpy bitch we started with last month.”
My jaw dropped. “Grumpy bitch?”
“Yeah, for the first couple of days anyway.”