Page 28 of Bossed By The Boggart

An enormous grin splits my face at this. “You fantasize about me?”

Wyn blushes. “Maybe.”

“Naughty girl. Do you want your boss to touch you until you come?”

She whimpers, and I lose my fucking mind. It doesn’t matter where we are or that HR would have a damn heart attack if they knew.

All that matters is that Wyn wants me as much as I want her.

“Can I touch you, deoring?”

“Yes, please, I’m begging you.”

“Mmm, I like it when you beg.”

I sink to my knees until I’m eye level with Wyn’s chest. Quickly popping the buttons of her navy blouse, I reveal a turquoise, lace bra.

Never in my wildest fantasies did I expect Wyn Archer to wear such seductive undergarments. She’s so prim and proper on the outside, but only a fool judges a book by its cover.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” I breathe into the deep V of her cleavage.

She shudders and inhales, the action pushing my face even further into the fragrant valley of her breasts, and I can’t help but flick my tongue out for a taste.

Wyn moans when I nip at the tender flesh that swells just above the lace of her bra, and I shove the fabric aside to reveal a dusky pink nipple.

My mouth waters, but I glance up at the woman who’s brought me to my knees. “May I?”

With a mute nod, she consents, and I waste no time licking the tip until it’s hard and glistening from my saliva—then I do the same to the other.

I keep my ears perked in case anyone does decide to use the stairs. It’s difficult with my attention wholly focused on the perfection of the woman before me, but I won’t allow anyone to view us.

Not because I’m the boss and she’s my employee, but because Wyn is mine—and no one can see her like this but me.

After a small eternity of feasting on her breasts, I pause to stare into her glazed eyes. Her dark brown gaze is slightly unfocused, and she has a dazzling, dreamy expression painting her face.

“May I touch…more?”

“More?”

“Down here.”

I gesture to the juncture of her thighs, unsure of her comfort level.

“Mmm, yes, please.”

Wyn practically pants the words, and a spurt of precum shoots from my tarse at the raw need suffused in her voice.

“What do you like—how can I make you feel good?”

“It takes me a while to come, but I like to stroke my clit—that’s what I prefer to call my cock—while muffing.”

“We’re not in a rush, deoring. My goal isn’t to just make you come—it’s to make you see stars. Now, what is muffing? I’m unfamiliar with this term.”

“So I’m not sure about Boggart anatomy, but for me, I have two canals that each of my balls descends from. If I push upward, I can finger one of my inguinal cunts while rubbing my clit.”

“Fascinating. The human body is a wonder to me—and yours is my obsession. Will you show me how to do it?”

“Here?!”

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