Page 17 of Tangling with the Boss

Leo

Hazel is trembling. Her muscles shudder under my palm as I stroke her back, and her thighs twitch as she spreads her legs wider. Steady breaths float up from the sun lounger—she’s counting inhales and exhales—and I’d stop, I’d call this whole thing off, panicking that she’s stressed, if she weren’t so desperately slick and needy. The evidence glints in the starlight.

Shewantsthis.

My perfect little assistant wants me as badly as I want her. Those hips tilt up for me, urging me to take her already, and when my shaft nudges against her entrance, she lets out a strangled moan.

“You’re sure?”

Because I’d never hurt her. I’m going to love this woman until the day I die, and there’s no rush; we don’t need to do this tonight. I could dress Hazel again, take her inside, bundle her into a hot shower and order takeout to stop her stomach from rumbling. That works for me too. It would still be the best night of my life.

But: “Please,” Hazel begs, ass wiggling from side to side, coaxing me on. Taunting me. “Please, Leo. I need you.”

Ah, hell.

When I grab her peachy ass with one hand, when I press the first inch inside her, Hazel is tighter and hotter than I ever dreamed.She’s a slick little furnace, strangling my shaft even as her body sucks it deeper, and thenoisesshe makes, scrabbling at the sun lounger, testing my hold on her hair…

Jesus Christ.

Those breathy little moans will haunt me to my deathbed.

“M-more,” Hazel says, fingertips digging into the lounger so hard they turn bloodless. “More, Leo.”

Flexing my grip on her ponytail, I grit my teeth and press forward again.

Draw back slightly, then nudge inside.

Out, in.

Back, deeper.

She’ssotight.

And I’d worry about that, worry that Hazel doesn’t really want this, except she’s moaning and whimpering like a champ, squirming on my cock, and she’s so slick that I glide forward easily enough. Another reason for her tightness presents itself in my brain, the logical conclusion, and my newly awakened heart stutters in my chest.

“Have you done this before, sweetheart?”

I’m half hope, half dread. It would be such a gift, and such a responsibility.

“N-no,” Hazel says, throwing her hips back to take another inch of me inside. “But I know I want this. Please.”

Her trust spreads through me, sparkling like sunshine.

And—as if I could fucking stop. A helicopter could appear above this rooftop, a whole SWAT team could parachute down, guns drawn and blazing, and I’d be helpless to do anything except keep thrusting, pulling her hair, squeezing her ass. Working my assistant into a quivering puddle.

Only Hazel could stop me now, and she’s too busy groaning with pleasure, rocking back on my length. Pulling firmly on her ponytail, I arch her back even further, drawing her like a bow. Drops of water from the pool gleam on her back, tinted silver in the darkness.

“You’re perfect.” The words grit out of me, and I find a rhythm now, thrusting into my assistant from behind. The sun lounger creaks beneath us, and the wind whips across the rooftop, but there’s no one to witness this but the stars. “You’re so fucking perfect, Hazel. Look at you, taking my cock. You were built for this. Built for me.”

Hazel spasms around my length, getting impossibly slicker.

“Leo,” she sighs. “Leo.”

Teeth gritted, blood boiling, I reach around and rub her clit. Hazel bucks and moans, so wild and free, and I plant a foot on the rooftop to keep from toppling off the damn sun lounger.

She won’t shake me that easily. Not until she comes for me, pretty and flushed, and shows me all the noises she can make.

It doesn’t take long. A few deep thrusts, hips angled to hit all the sensitive spots inside her, with a few firm circles of her clit. Just like that, Hazel throws back her head and cries out, loud and fractured, as her channel clamps down, fluttering around my cock.

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