Page 24 of Tempted By the Bosshole

He leans over me, breathing against my neck. “That’s right. There’s my wet girl. Oh, I’ve missed this pussy…”

I want to resist the pleasure he’s giving me. But it’s damn near impossible to fight something my body hasn’t stopped craving since the first time he put his hands on me.

In seconds, pressure and need coil under his digits. I bite my lip to hold in a whimper.

Out the windows, I swear the whole city of Boston is watching him undo me with his methodical, unerring touch. I close my eyes, but without the skyline to focus on, I only feel Nathan more.

“Please…”

“Begging to come already?”

“No,” I pant.

“I don’t believe you. Your clit is swollen and hard.”

“It’s still sore from your abuse last weekend.” That’s not true, but maybe that will make him stop.

Do you really want him to?

“You aren’t accustomed to frequent orgasms. I’ll change that.” He peels my panties down my legs and taps on my ankles, one at a time. “Step out.”

Obediently, I do. He pockets my underwear. He intends to keep this pair, too? Like a trophy?

Anxiety ties me in knots. I’m afraid of getting caught yet afraid of displeasing him. Everything about him and this situation stirs and agitates me.

I turn to him. “Give those back.”

“I told you, when you’re with me, you don’t wear these. I know you read my text. I want you available for my cock at all times. I’m going to fuck you often and well. I’ll remind you this pussy is mine every chance I get.”

“You’re a bastard.” One whose sole goal is revenge; I need to remember that, not how incredible his touch feels.

“At least I’m not a cheating douchebag.”

He has a point, but… “No, you’re a bossy, possessive caveman.”

“I don’t deny that.”

“Give me back my underwear.”

He tsks. “We need to work on your listening skills. Not only do you no longer wear them, you don’t own them.”

To prove his point, he tosses my scrap of white cotton in his wastebasket and pours the remnants from last week’s coffee on top. They’re ruined.

Seeing red, I turn to face him. “Nath?—”

He covers my mouth with his palm. “Shh. You don’t want the rest of the office to come running. I’m not sharing these perfect tits with anyone.”

Then he swoops down and laves my nipples, his quiet groan vibrating through my body.

One touch and I surrender. Why? Where’s my self-respect and my will? Apparently, they’re between my legs, begging like the rest of me. It’s barely after eleven a.m., and Nathan is melting me into a puddle. Unless I go shopping on my lunch hour, I’ll be commando for the rest of the day.

After one final nip of his teeth on each tender tip, he turns me back to the desk and urges me flat. The hiss of his zipper fills the room otherwise occupied by distant office noises and the sounds of my shallow breaths.

“Spread your legs.” He nudges them apart with his foot.

The tearing of a wrapper fills my ears next. My heart thrashes hard when the thick head of his cock nudges my entrance while his massive hand pins my wrists to his desk. “By the way, five minutes ago, I announced our engagement. The whole office knows.”

My jaw drops. “What?”

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