Page 24 of Bossy Bred

And then she’s shattering, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. The feel of her tightening around me is nearly my undoing, but I manage to pull out just in time, my cock slipping free from her warmth as I come with a guttural roar.

Hot jets of cum spurt across her stomach, marking her as mine. I watch, transfixed, as my cum glistens on her skin.

Then I raise my eyes to hers. She’s watching me with a sweetly dazed expression, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of her orgasm.

“I’m so in love with you, Leta,” I whisper, dipping to press a tender kiss to her lips. “I never thought I’d say those words to anyone, but I’m so fucking happy I was wrong.”

She smiles affectionately at me, her eyes shining. “I’m so in love with you too.”

10

LETA

TWO MONTHS LATER

Ipace nervously in my tiny bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test on the counter. The box says it takes three minutes, but it feels like an eternity. I know my period is probably just late because I’ve been stressed about the fundraiser tonight, but I need to know for sure.

The timer on my phone chimes. I take a deep breath and pick up the test with shaking hands.

Negative.

Relief washes over me. My relationship with Jake might be going strong, but that doesn’t mean an unplanned pregnancy wouldn’t have the potential to ruin everything. There’s a reason he always pulls out.

So I’m relieved to see the negative test result. But as I stare at that single line, an unexpected twinge of disappointment also hits me. For a split second, I picture a little girl with Jake’s eyes and my smile. The image fades as quickly as it appeared, leaving me shocked at my own reaction.

Where did that come from? I shake my head, trying to clear the confusing thoughts. Now isn’t the time to unpack these feelings. I need to focus on tonight’s event.

I toss the pregnancy test in the trash and hurry to finish getting ready. The fundraiser for the tutoring center starts in less than two hours, and there’s still so much to do. As I apply my makeup, I push thoughts of babies and pregnancy tests to the back of my mind. Tonight is about securing funding to keep helping kids succeed. That’s what matters right now.

But as I rush out the door, that fleeting image of a dark-haired little girl lingers in the corner of my mind.

When I arrive at the community center, my heart is racing with nerves for another reason. This fundraising gala isn’t just another event—it’s a lifeline for the tutoring center. If we hit our target, it’ll cover my hefty loan payments and keep the center running smoothly for months to come. As much as I’ve appreciated Jake’s generous donations, it’s important to me to stop relying on them.

I burst through the doors, arms loaded with decorations and my mind a whirlwind of last-minute details. The room is already buzzing with volunteers hanging streamers and arranging silent auction items. We’ve got paintings from local artists, gift baskets from neighborhood shops, and even a weekend getaway package donated by a travel agency. It’s not exactly black-tie fancy, but it’s the best we could pull together on a shoestring budget.

“Hey, Leta! The caterers are asking where to set up,” calls out one of my tutors.

“Tell them—” I start to say, but the words fade in my throat as I spot a striking figure by the entrance.

Jake.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover. His tailored suit hugs his strapping frame in all the right places.

“Need a hand?” he asks, pushing off the wall and striding towards me.

I blink, caught between surprise and the urge to jump into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

He reaches out, taking some of the decorations from my overloaded arms. “Thought you could use an extra set of hands. Plus,” he says, leaning in close, his breath tickling my ear, “I couldn’t wait to see you in that dress.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I chose this emerald green dress hoping to impress potential donors, but suddenly all I can think about is the way Jake’s eyes are roaming over me.

“Are you sure you’re okay helping out?” I ask, knowing that an event like this might be too much for the social anxiety he experiences outside of work.

He nods, his gorgeous eyes softening. “I’m sure. This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

Hours later, I can’t stop smiling as Jake and I walk into my apartment. The fundraiser was a smashing success—we exceeded our goal by almost twenty percent. My heart feels like it might burst from happiness.

“I still can’t believe how well it went,” I gush, kicking off my heels. “And you were amazing out there. I know crowds aren’t your thing, but you really charmed everyone.”

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