Page 102 of Dear Grumpy Boss

The fabric pooled at my feet, and Weston angled forward, kissing the top of my slit. I widened my stance, letting him in. His tongue breached my lips, teasing my clit. The barest touch and I had to hold on to his shoulders so I wouldn’t fall.

I really had missed him.

He lay back, bringing me with him to straddle his face. There was a moment of shyness, where I felt ungainly and overlarge, but Weston took me out of my head, gripping my thighs and pulling me to his mouth. The satisfied groan he released when my pussy met his lips erased my doubts.

He put me where I was because he wanted me there.

He mademewant to be there.

My fingers curled around the top of his headboard, needing to hold on as his skilled tongue swiped over my soaked flesh. Like everything Weston did, he lapped at me with slow, measured precision. If I were brave, I would have peeked at his face. I was dying to see his expression. But this position had made me vulnerable, and I wasn’t ready to add another layer to it, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on what he was doing to my body.

His moans of pleasure.

His soft, insistent strokes up and down my legs.

The flick of his tongue on my clit.

His determined, unending devotion to licking every inch of my pussy.

My orgasm collided with me in a sudden burst, lighting me aflame. I cried his name and writhed over him, still careful not to drop down too low. But he obliterated my care, yanking me firmly onto his mouth and chin.

Weston was an intense man, which he brought to the bedroom and multiplied infinitely. His attention to my pleasure, tome, made me feel lucky, sexy, sensual. Being his sole focus was incredible. One orgasm wasn’t enough for him. He sucked on my clit until I was shaking and my bones were weak.

He rolled me onto the mattress, fitting his hips between my thighs. His thick cock slid through the dripping mess he’d made of me. Opening my eyes, I found him staring down at me with tenderness. I reached up, slicing my fingers through his hair then scratching the scruff on his jaw.

His cock slid into me easily, my inner walls pliant and stretching to accommodate him. He hissed when he was fully inside me, but he never took his eyes off me.

“This good?” he breathed.

“Perfect, West.”

He shuddered, his eyes closing for a moment. “You undo me, Elise.”

The truth in his words resonated. I believed him because he did the same thing to me. There were a thousand reasons we shouldn’t have been together, but when we were, they were all dismantled and stashed away.

He slowly slid out, taking his time working his way back in. And he went on like that, showing me what this was going to be. Weston was in no rush now that he had me, and the truth was, I could have spent a hundred years making slow, deep love with him. The way he looked at me when he was all the way inside me…he took my breath away.

It was a heady thing, being the subject of his attention.

His hips rotated in a deep circle, hitting parts of me that were tender and sensitive. I gasped, clutching his flexing shoulders, and brought my knees up alongside his hips to let him in even farther.

“Do you feel like you’re mine now?” he murmured.

I nodded, breathless from his deliberate, unflagging rhythm.

“I want to hear your words, baby,” he demanded softly. “Say it.”

“You make me feel like I’m yours.”

“Are you mine?”

I nodded again. His brow pinched. I knew what he wanted.

“I am. I am yours.”

A satisfied smile, then his mouth slanted over mine. His kiss was just as languid as his slick thrusts into my body.

When he let go of my mouth, he inched his face back so our eyes could meet.

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