Page 42 of Never Say Yes To Your Boss

“For the love of jelly, do not call me that.”

I tumble into him, and he catches me. His arms wrap around me and stop my descent into him, transforming it into something else as he pulls me close and tips my face up. His kiss is a crush, a relentless energy that flows through me and makes me feel alive. He kisses me until I can’t breathe. And when we stop, we’re both breathing like a herd of elephants after a stampede.

“Can you do that again?” I whisper raggedly, pleading and begging. “Can we do that again? Because that was really good. Can we do it again if I take my pants off, and you take yours off, and—”

Before I can say anymore, he claims my lips, his tongue hot and furious against them. I groan and let him in, my hands sweeping to the back of his neck and holding on. He’s trembling, but I know I’m shaking too.

I think it’s been a long time for both of us, the incident in the kitchen notwithstanding. I worked myself half to death, and I didn’t have time for a love life. I might have dabbled here and there, but there were nothing more than stolen moments at the peak of pure frustration and later my own fingers because I couldn’t actually be bothered with trying to fit dating into my schedule on top of everything else. And Darius? He’s been alone for a long time, too.

That’s not the only reason this feels so good and so right, though. It’s part of it, but not nearly all the pull. I wanted to come in here tonight. I’ve wanted to come in here for days. I’ve wanted this so desperately since the kitchen. To taste him again, make him feel good, and come under his skilled hands and mouth.

Darius’ hand traces a pattern down my tank top, and he stops at the bottom, hesitating. “Is this okay?”

I wriggle into his touch, aching for more. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are practically shredding through the fabric. He’s not wearing a shirt, and holy god, he smells delicious. He feels delicious. I’m almost at eye level with his nipples, which is optimal for making me feel like I’m already two seconds away from a climax that’s stimulated through visuals alone.

“Yes, it’s okay.”

He leans in, tugging my shirt off. It’s almost there, at my chin, when he balances wrong, and it pretty much rips off because he’s pulling away, or falling away, or something. I can’t see because my damn shirt is blocking my view of what’s going on, but I reach for him and catch only air. The shirt finally gives, wrenching off my face hard enough to make my nose and chin burn, and I see Darius wobbling on the edge of the bed. He tries to right himself and get his arm back under him, but it gives way—the shoulder that he says has no power in it. It doesn’t support him, and he tumbles down. I grab for him, and his hand closes around mine, which results in me plummeting off the bed to land right on top of him. He spreads his legs in a move that is pure reflex, and I land there, safely between them. I don’t knee him in the junk a second time, thank god, but I do look up at him, my laughter already bubbling out.

“Are you okay?” He’s purely concerned and furious with himself. As I slither my way up his chiseled torso, his hands wrap around my arms, and I have zero complaints about that contact. I’m not wearing a shirt either now, so it’s skin-to-skin contact, and skin-to-skin with Darius feels incredible.

The air goes electric as I look down into his dark eyes. They’re painted gold under the lamplight, but even still, his pupils are quite huge. They’re lovely eyes. The most lovely set I’ve ever seen. Even when they’re clouded with uncertainty.

“I’m good.” I wriggle against him, straddling him as his hands land on my hips. “In fact, I think it’s a great time to do the rug burn challenge.”

“What the hell is that?”

“I just made it up. There are so many other silly challenges, but this one would be good. I know it. It’s basically a challenge where we see who can get a bigger rug burn by fucking each other into the rug.”

“Aaahh!” he gasps, his voice all garbled.

I flush. Yeah, that was probably too much. I run my hand down his abs, which have been carved out by the hands of god, I swear, and trail my finger over the waistband of his sweats. I can feel how hard he is, how thick and long, and I’m straddling him, but not in the right spot. I have to scoot lower for that, and I make sure I don’t hurt him by accidentally bending things wrong. I scoot way back, hovering over his knees. Then, I tug at his sweats until they’re low enough that I can take him out.

I’ve unfortunately heard the term BDE before, which is extremely crude and not at all attractive to my way of thinking, but seeing Darius’, um, member, I finally get it. And it’s not at all unattractive on Darius. A little bit intimidating, maybe. Okay, fine, a lot intimidating because I didn’t expect to barely be able to wrap my hand around the base of him. Or that he’d be like…long enough to destroy me. Big is an understatement, and there’s most certainly a charged energy in the room.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, trying and failing to catch my breath and salvage a small amount of composure and dignity. “Uh, this is rather, um, shocking.”

“Jesus, Ev, your eyes are so huge right now. And not in a good way. I’m sorry. I was going to warn you. You can just put it back if you want. It’s all good.”

“It’s not all good! Put it back? What are you talking about? I don’t want to put it back!”

“Oh, I think I read the situation wrong. You just looked horrified when you saw it.”

I press my lips together because laughter right now would probably be misunderstood, and Darius’ happy stick would probably be offended. “I’m not horrified. A little surprised, maybe, but in a good way. What can I do to make you feel good?”

“Oh god, please don’t ask me that,” Darius groans.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m way too close already. You’re half naked, and you’re beautiful. You’re straddling me and holding my dick in your hand, and it’s heaven already.”

“Are you okay if I’m on top?” I’m trying to ask him if this is okay because this is what he needs since his shoulder gave way on the bed there. Is he okay? I don’t want to come out and ask him directly because I feel like I’ll embarrass him.

“More than okay. Is it okay for you?”

“If you promise not to wreck me with this beast,” I reply saucily.

His cock likes being called a beast, I guess, because it throbs in my hand and freaking expands, which I didn’t know was a thing. Well, apparently, it’s a thing. A very hot thing. And I’m on fire between my legs. Hot and aching and soaked and ready for this.

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