Page 14 of Bossed By the Orc

Penelope

When Dristan said the word please, he really said the word please. His eyes softened and his posture relaxed in a way that I’d never seen from him before. My pussy decided that was the perfect moment to make her needs known and I almost whimpered with the urge to attempt to fit his massive cock inside me.

Struggling to focus, I nibbled on my lower lip. Dristan might be my boss, but it was difficult for me to separate the personal and professional sides of my life with him. Especially when it felt like he was bulldozing all of my personal boundaries.

“Thank you for that,” I told him, wanting to reward him for breaking out the underutilized manners on my behalf. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you right after you hired me.”

Once the words were out of my mouth, my eyes widened with realization of what I’d said. I watched his pupils dilate, the dark depths taking over the yellow until the brilliant color was just a thin rim.

He stepped closer to me—only one step that had me backing toward my desk—that I’d be leaving behind.

Please fuck me on it.

I mentally slapped myself, but panic filled my chest. If he touched me, I was done for. I would throw myself into his arms.

I wasn’t sure if something hormonal was happening to me but the lust that I felt around this male wasn’t normal. I needed to do more research about orcs and their effect on human females.

He was leaning even closer now and I tipped my head back, my lips parting for a taste of his. I’d never kissed an orc before and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. His tusks would bracket my face, I could already tell, but was it taboo to dig my fingers into that long, lustrous hair? To nibble my way down his body until I dropped to my knees in front of him?

I was living in the fantasy, my breath panting out of me, when he nabbed something from the desk beside me and pulled away, looking down at it instead of me. Flustered, I tried to figure out what had just happened. He’d picked up a book instead of kissing me?

After I was all but throwing myself at him? What. An. Ass. A caustic barb was on the tip of my tongue when he lifted the thing in his hands for me to see.

Oh fuck.

It was the orc romance book that I’d gotten from the library. Frozen, I watched him wave it in front of me, a devious smirk playing across his lips.

“Some light reading?” he asked, and I wished the ground could open up and swallow me whole.

I snatched the book from his hands, aiming for an aloof look when I told him, “Please don’t touch my things.”

“It’ll be difficult to help you move then.” He didn’t step away from me, standing too close and taking up too much space in my miniscule room.

I turned away from him, squeezing past his broad shoulders, ignoring his luscious, masculine scent. “You can carry things. I’ll pack.”

He turned with me, that stupid smirk still on his annoyingly gorgeous face. “Do you need boxes?”

I shook my head, putting the two suitcases I’d stuffed into my closet on my bed, filling them quickly and efficiently. There wasn’t much room, so I hadn’t brought a lot of things with me when I left home—except my sewing machine.

Dristan had his hands in his pockets as he watched me and I couldn’t help but notice the brimming satisfaction in his gaze as he did. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I couldn’t imagine it was anything good. I was going to have to learn to ignore those looks—ignore him—or else I wouldn’t survive living with him for very long.

I would either murder him in his sleep or I’d find him and ride him for hours until we both passed out. Either of those outcomes didn’t bode well for my sanity.

“Do you have anything out there?” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “I can grab anything you need.”

I shook my head, affection for his attempt to help trying to eat past the barrier of my annoyance with him. “Just some food.”

“My pantry’s more than stocked, I can assure you,” he muttered with annoyance. He quirked an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes.

“Then I can leave my things here for Kelly.”

“I don’t like Dave,” Dristan spat and it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

“Neither do I,” I drew the words out trying to see if he’d say anything else. When he didn’t, I shrugged, stuffing the last of my belongings into my bags and my sewing machine into a box.

When they were both full and zipped, I closed them and rolled one over to him. He took both, tucking the box with my sewing machine under his arm and ignoring my protests, taking them outside before turning to me.

“Double check that you got everything.”

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