Morning, all! Have I told you all how bloody awesome I think you all are?

The last couple of months have been terrible for us. I've had 5 family members with COVID, our business has been pretty close to closing a couple of times and I currently have 4 teenagers in the house that haven't been able to go to work/school. It's been so tough, but your reviews and messages have been so amazing.

Thank you for the laughs and support. MWAH!

Broken Bums & Pricks

Wheelchair needed?

Why is every male character's cock a monster? I know us women like to be pleased but remember that little saying about too much of a good thing . . .

The lead male could be an asshole, the dick of all dicks, but as long as his cock is huge, that's okay, right?

Wrong! Dear lord, it makes women really shallow if we think only of the 'monster cock' . . .

But having said that, men are pretty shallow, too. So, in a roundabout way, is this an issue or not?

All the same, why do we have to read about them in every story? I'm not saying that the man should be written with a two-inch cock, but get real, not every cock is huge. If they were all above average size, girth, and length, you'd certainly see more women walking funny on your way to work in the morning.

This leads me on to my next bit for contemplation: Why do men have to announce that they're going to fuck the girl so hard?

Does this make him more of a man? There are more speeds than just slow and hard, did you know that? Yes, we know that a good, hard fuck can get rid of the worst of headaches, but slow and sensual is good, as is a fun quickie while you're getting dressed. Jazz it up a little. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, is all well and good, but not in every chapter!

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"I said no, Mac! No means no!" I shouted. Damn, it was like talking to a three-year-old.

He was still headbutting the door, trying to get to the floozy next door. I'd never know a dog of her kind to make such a racket. I remember her owners telling me what breed she was, but I hadn't been paying attention. All I knew was that she was tiny, a ball of fluff, and was a mouthy piece of work.

Talking of work. Bossman hated me. Well, I think hate was a strong word to use, but he definitely disliked me. I tried to tell him on the phone that I hadn't told Jessica that he was gay, but he spouted off 'semantics' and 'insinuations' were just as bad.

"MAC! Lay off the damn bloody door!" I shouted.

Would I ever get five minutes fucking peace?!

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So, we all know Bossman is good looking, right? We've established that he works out, he's easy on the eyes, and his package is big enough to see swinging side-to-side when he jogs. Can I now get over this and move along? Or can someone please explain that concept to my brain?

I woke up during, yes during, a mini orgasm at three o'clock this morning and haven't been able to switch off since.

I've been trying to think of ways I could get out of work today and am coming up with nothing. How on earth am I going to face him after what I'd dreamt about? There's no way I can. Oh, God, what I felt—in the dream—with his fingers . . .

If I see him in person anytime soon, I'll fall apart at the seams and then get him to fuck me over his desk.

I'm being deadly serious.

An idea strikes me. I am, in theory, a boss. Maybe not his boss, but a boss, which means that I can do my own thing, right? Including work from home!

That was it, I decided right then that I'd work from home until these stupid thoughts of Bossman left me.

"Bella, fancy some breakfast?" Mom's voice drifted through the front door, and before I knew it, Mac darted out of the kitchen, his leash wrapping around my legs and pulling me down to the floor ass first.

Before I could wrap my head around what had happened, pain rushed through my body, and I looked up to see my parents and brother staring down at me. Then they laughed.

"Why aren't you at school?" I asked my brother with a glare. Good, distract yourself from the pain. God, the pain! My ass was throbbing, and not in a good way.

He shrugged and mumbled something about a teacher training day then walked over to the fridge.

"You can't just laugh at me then raid my kitchen for food. That's what home is for, go find food there!" I cried out while Dad lifted me from the floor. My poor ass, it was stuck between numb and on fire with pain. It needed to make up its damned mind.

Mom got me to sit down at the kitchen table after she grabbed a cushion from the living room, but I wasn't sure if I should be sitting or not. Will my butt break more if I sit on it? I was crying through the pain which wasn't like me. Pain I can handle, I really could, but I can't deal with aches. Headache, toothache, or earache were my no-go areas. This was basic pain, I could handle it. So why am I crying?

"It hurts so bad, mommy, really bad," I wailed. And the throbbing. Oh, my God. So bad. So very, very bad!

"Do you think we need to get her to the hospital? She's looking funny and a bit green?" My brother, the stupid idiot, said as he sat next to me.

I wanted to hit him, but if I moved, it'd hurt more.

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The next four hours were a total blur of excruciating pain, strange nurses who had a fascination with my clip-in hair extensions, and me crying while demanding painkillers like sweets. I don't know how or when I got to the hospital, but I remember them x-raying my ass—and telling the male nurse to quit looking at it.

The doctor was lucky I could barely move because when he prodded my butt. 'Does this hurt?' 'How about here?'. It all fucking hurt! I wanted to kick him where the sun don't shine, if you get my meaning. I don't like my backside prodded at the best of times!

Then I was home, sitting on a blow-up ring with ice in the middle of it. I'd managed to fracture my coccyx bone, and the bastard of a doctor told me to avoid strenuous activities with my bum. Tell me, what on earth could be classified as 'strenuous' when it comes to my ass?!

"I managed to get a video of you angering the staff at the hospital. When you're not stoned, I'll show it to you," my brother whispered.

I went to hit him, but there were two of him and couldn't decide which one to go for. "I'm not stoned," I growled, but Dad's laughter drowned it out.

"Honey, you're three sheets to the wind. Your Mom is fixing you some lunch, and then I think it's time you went to bed."

I didn't remember much after that.

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The day went, and night came, but I didn't move from my bed. I could hardly walk in a straight line, and it wasn't just down to my ass, but also the pain meds they had me on. They were some freaky shit. I felt as though I wasn't in my own body, but floating next to it. Freaky shit indeed.

I also had to lay still because Mac was in the doghouse with me. He knew he'd done wrong because he had that guilty look on his face, the one I couldn't stand to see. So, he ended up next to me on the bed again.

Even worse than how the meds were making me feel, though, was the phone call I got this morning. There I was, lying in bed, praying once again that the room would stop spinning when my phone went off. Thinking it was Mom, I answered it without looking at the damn screen.

"Hello," I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut. Nope, couldn't face the room just yet.

"Princess, are you okay? You weren't in yesterday, and you're late today, are you ill?" Bossman asked.

I had a quick-witted reply on the tip of my tongue, but two things stopped me. One, I didn't have the energy to be snarky and two, he sounded too damned worried.

"I broke my bum!" I wailed out, fresh tears starting once again. I was feeling vulnerable and more like a little girl than ever before. "And I need the toilet!" I continued, wishing that my mouth would shut the hell up. "I need to pee, and I broke my bum, Bossman! I'm going to pee myself, and people will find me in bed stinking like an old lady."

"Bella, what's wrong?" he asked. I'd never heard him sound so desperately lost. So, of course, cue more tears. I was howling. I couldn't stop myself. Everything came out. I was tired, in pain, high as a kite, and horny as hell. I just couldn't deal with it all!

"My dog tripped me, and I broke my bum, and now I'm stuck in bed, and I need to pee, and I'm hungry, and I can't move!" I cried harder. I felt so stupid, but I was in pain.

"I'll be there in ten minutes, Princess." The line went dead.

So here I am, eight minutes later, praying I look half decent and that I don't pee the bed before he turns up. In my honest—and drugged-out—opinion, I don't really want him to come here. I didn't need him to see me in this state because it would give him ammo to use against me in the future. But he was closer than my parents, and I really needed the toilet.

Mac growled from his spot on the floor, next to my bed, and I knew Bossman had turned up. Now I just needed to keep the bloody dog under control before Bossman ends up being his next victim.

"Princess?" I heard him call out. Bossman, not Mac.

I shouted back then berated Mac who wasn't growling anymore but wagging his tail instead. "Great guard dog you are," I mumbled.

"Holy fuck, that's a dog!" Bossman squeaked-shrieked the moment he opened my door, and I laughed. It hurt, but it was well worth the pain. I'd never seen him so petrified.

"No shit! And here I thought I'd owned a unicorn all this time," I replied then winced when I tried to sit up a little on my hip. Strange position, I know, but I couldn't lay on my back, and going to my front squished my bladder.

"Hardy-har-har, Princess. How about we get you to the toilet, so you can relieve some of that humor down the bowl?" He chuckled, and I glared at him.

I hadn't thought about this. He'd need to pick me up, touch me, and take me to the toilet. Why didn't my brain tell me this fifteen minutes ago?!

Suck it up, girly, or you'll piss yourself in front of him.

"Fine, but no looking, and don't touch anything you don't have to," I muttered, not impressed that he was going to see me in nothing but a small top and my panties. Shit, which ones do I have on? Too late now, he'll see them regardless.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that if it's a pain in the ass, then you're doing it wrong?" he asked with another round of laughter as he pulled back the covers then gently picked me up under the legs and around my back.

Damn, does he have to smell so good? I probably smell like two-day-old rotting vegetables compared to him.

"Anyone ever tell you that you are a prick?" I grouched back, trying to hold in how much pain I was in.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Daily since you came into my life, Princess," he whispered against my neck sending shivers over my skin.

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I will try, for the rest of my life, to forget about what happened in that bathroom in the following minutes. He was very polite and left me to do what I needed in there, but he stood outside the door in case I needed him. Which meant he heard me pee.

Now, when I have to go to a public restroom, I don't give two hoots who hears me, because I don't know them from Adam and I'll never have to see them again. Bossman on the other hand . . .

I'll have to work with him daily knowing that he's heard me pee. In any other situation, I could've turned on the tap so he wouldn't hear, but the sink was too far away from where I was sat. It was bad enough that he found it funny I sat on the toilet with my panties still up around my thighs, but to hear me pee! Oh, God.

I hoped he would be a grown-up about it.

But no.

"You sounded like an elephant when they pee," he said the moment he lifted me from the toilet to take me back into my room.

"You really are a prick, you know that? I'm in agony, and you're making jokes about my bladder. Do you know how upsetting that is?" I ranted then wonder when my next pills are due, because this pain is getting a little too much now, and I'm taking it out on him.

"You know my answer already, Princess, so let's skip this segment of our conversation. What I'm going to do is put you back into bed, find you something to eat, and then you're going to take some more tablets and go back to sleep. I just hope I can survive your monster of a dog on my own. He's fucking huge."

"Yeah, I went to get a toy poodle and came home with a St. Bernard," I murmured while he laid me down in the bed. "If you let him out, keep him on the rope, but don't trip over it. And whatever you do, keep an eye on him, he's trying to get to my neighbor's bitch, who is in heat," I continued feeling my eyes droop.

When I woke up, Bossman was standing next to my bed with a tray of food and coffee.

"I don't know how the meds and coffee will work together, but we can give it a go if you're game."

I grinned at his greeting. "Coffee sounds divine. I've been drinking water since yesterday and am starting to hate it," I replied then tried to sit up, which didn't work.

"The more you sit or lay still, the more it will hurt, Princess. I'm not saying that you have to do cartwheels or squats, but moving will help more than not." He placed the tray on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Squats would explain what the doctor was talking about when he said no ass exercises then," I tried to joke with a smile, but the pain was really kicking in.

"Yeah, I can't see those being a good idea at this point. Here, eat up, and then I'll let you have the meds. I don't want you to have them with nothing in your stomach." As he talked, he helped me sit up a little better, then placed the tray in my lap.

He'd cooked me a nice-looking soup, vegetable, I think, with some thick slices of buttered bread on the side.

"Thanks."

When the food was gone, and the pills were swallowed, he helped me get comfortable in bed once again. I snuggled down, thankful for the new ice pack on my butt. All hopes of not being humiliated left when he cautioned about wrapping the ice pack in a towel, to avoid freezer burn on my skin, and pulled back the covers to make sure it was seated in the right place.

"Why are you being so nice and caring?" I asked. Even to my own ears, it sounded like I was drunk as a skunk on prom night.

"Well, Princess, I kinda like you. You make my life less boring," he confessed with a soft laugh and stroked the hair from my forehead.

"Go me."

And this is the turning point of their relationship. Up next is Edward and he gets to spend some quality time with Mr and Mrs Swan... Bwahahahahahaha

Tomorrow's teaser:

"You made me come with your fingers. I didn't want to face you after that—"

Her slurred speech didn't hinder what I'd heard, and I nearly slid right off the bed. When the fuck did I do that?! I hadn't touched her like that! I think I'd fucking remember.

"Uh, when, Princess?"