Page 19 of Contracted and Claimed By The Boss

She lifted her gaze, staring into his eyes, or rather, at his eyelids, because his attention was focused squarely on her arm, as though if he didn’t cover every single millimetre of her skin, some great evil might befall them. Finally, he let go, as though burned, reaching for the lotion and adding some more to his hands, then took hold of her other wrist and began again. But as he reached her elbow and moved higher, his hand grew still.

‘I don’t want to get it on your shirt.’

She pulled her hand away, biting down on her lip, her heart racing as she lifted her hands into the air, a challenge in her eyes, daring him to follow through on his suggestion.

With a noise that was low and throaty, he took one step closer then put his hands on her waist, swallowing, staring at her, lost, drowning, grabbing the shirt in his fists and lifting it, oh, so slowly up her sides, higher to her arms and, finally, over her head.

He groaned properly then at the sight of her in a skimpy lace and silk bra.

‘You’re burned here too,’ he ground out, pressing a finger to her shoulder and, with one more look into her eyes, he dropped his head and pressed a kiss there, his lips searing her skin.

She trembled.

‘Am I?’ She bit into her lip. ‘Anywhere else?’

He moved behind her, his finger trailing a line across her back, between her shoulders, then his lips followed its path, pressing kiss after kiss to her skin until goosebumps covered her body. ‘Here.’ Then he kissed her other shoulder, but this time it wasn’t a quick, light kiss, but rather a caress, and rather than lifting his lips, he glided them higher, to the pulse point at the base of her neck, which he flicked with his tongue, his warm breath, his mouth, until she was so awash with pleasure it was almost impossible to stand.

‘Max.’ Her voice emerged as a tortured whisper, for surely this level of desire was a torture device?

His body pressed to her side and then he came to her front, his mouth parting from her body for the briefest moment before he claimed her mouth, kissing her, but not as he had at the water’s edge. This was slower, a kiss of exploration, a kiss that spoke of them having all the time in the world to explore this wild, overwhelming connection.

She swayed forward, needing their bodies to be closer, to be touching, and he reached around to unclasp her bra. It might have been years since he’d slept with a woman, but he was still easily able to unfasten the garment, then slide it from her arms, letting it drop to the ground at their feet.

‘Turn around,’ he invited gruffly.

She did as he said, her nipples taut against the night air. The next moment, his hands were on her back—not in order to apply lotion, but rather as if from a need to touch her inch by inch, massaging her, familiarising himself with her body. His hands came around to the front, to her breasts, cupping them, and he pressed his hard body to her back, his arousal evident at her bottom so she ground backwards on autopilot as his fingers circled then squeezed her nipples until she was riding a wave of pleasure that was hot and explosive.

And Max wasn’t done. One hand swirled circles over her flat stomach while the other continued to master her breasts, and his mouth kissed the back of her neck. His fingers slid into the waistband of her shorts, and then her lace thong, connecting with her feminine shape so Paige startled, the touch both unexpected and extremely welcome.

She said his name in shock though, because it had been a long time for Paige as well, and despite the way they’d been kissing and touching, she still hadn’t been—couldn’t have been—prepared for the overwhelming deluge of feelings.

‘It’s—I’m—’

He cursed beneath his breath. ‘You feel so good.’

She tilted her head back on a rush of sensation as his hand moved lower, his fingers parting her sex and finding her most sensitive cluster of nerves, teasing it, tormenting it, showing his dominant superiority over that part of her too, all the while her breasts tingled from his ministrations and his kisses lit fires in her veins.

‘Max,’ she groaned, grinding her hips, needing more, needing so much more.

He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, wobbling it between his teeth, then dropped his mouth to her shoulder once more, sucking the skin there as he moved his fingers faster, her moist warmth building until Paige was exploding against his hand, stars filling her eyes. She stood right where she was, feet planted to the floor, as her panting slowed and breathing returned to something more like normal, but Max wasn’t slowing down. He turned her in his arms, eyes hooded, almost unrecognisable for how huge his pupils were.

He pulled her by the hand, towards the armchair in the corner, which he sat down into and jerked her on top of him, so she felt his arousal between her legs and cried out because despite the pleasure she’d just experienced she needed this, all of this, all of him.

His name was a cry on her lips, a desperate entreaty for relief that she knew he would heed, that they both would. She rocked on her heels, moving her hips, simulating the sex she was desperate to enjoy with him, but there were far too many clothes between them, so she reached down and touched his jeans, undid the button, then the zip, her fingers shaking.

‘Wait,’ he commanded, finding her mouth and kissing her, his arousal so huge against her sex, his body so powerfully warm. She didn’t want to wait though. Impatience was like a river about to burst its banks. He dropped his mouth to her breasts, taking one nipple inside, swirling it with his tongue then pressing his teeth to it just hard enough for Paige to cry out, with the kind of pleasure she’d never known before. It was too much. She was floundering, unsure how to process these feelings.

Sex had never been like this before.

Sex had never been anything other than what was expected of someone like her.

She’d been taken advantage of by older men, made to feel that her livelihood depended on her compliance, on her participation in something that was supposed to be special and meaningful. Oh, it wasn’t as though she’d had many lovers, in fact she’d only slept with a couple of men, but she’d made out with more, been touched by even more, as though her body were a commodity that they were entitled to because of the industry in which she’d worked.

This was entirely different.

This was an equal-participation activity, both as maddened by the connection as each other and, even though nothing could come of this, it was meaningful to Paige because this was her decision. She was exercising her agency to enjoy him, to enjoy this. On one level, she knew it was wrong, but in all the ways that mattered most it was a watershed experience, a gift Paige was giving to herself, and no matter what came next, she’d always have had this moment of euphoria.

‘I want you,’ she said simply, blinking at him wildly as she pulled her head up, wrenching away from him so he could see the need in her face, could hear it in her words, could feel it. It felt so good to admit that! For the younger version of herself who’d never known real pleasure like this, she wanted to claim these delights and hold them to her chest. ‘Please,’ she added, with a wisp of a smile, hoping it hid the raw emotion he’d invoked with his talented ministrations.

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