Page 73 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

I love the sound of her desire. It makes me want to feel her naked skin against mine, bury my cock inside her heat, and pump into her again and again until we’re both lost in our desire. There are too many clothes in the way of what I want right now, so I reach for the tails of my shirt. She joins in, frantically tugging my shirt over my head.

As soon as my chest is bare, she runs a hand over my body, her eyes meeting mine, sending a wave of need boiling inside me.

“Come.”

With that single word, she pulls me toward the couch, waiting in the center of the room. Setting her down on the couch, my hands skim across her breasts, down her abdomen, pulling down her dress the rest of the way to reveal her thighs and the wet panties.

“Ready for me?” My fingers slip under her panties into a wet patch of heat. She hisses as I push inside. “Yes, you are.”

She groans and pushes her hips toward me. “Ethan . . . I want to feel you inside me.”

I undo my pants with speed and push them down my hips, climbing over her. This raw and primal need I have for Holly is wild and uncontrollable and I have never felt this way with anyone until now, and I know I will never feel it with anyone else.

Yanking down her panties and tossing them to the floor, I circle an arm around her waist to lift it for me as I slide into her. A low growl escapes my lips as I push in deep. Holly breathes in strangled sounds, gasping, her fingers gripping the couch’s arm as I move as fast and hard as I can.

She whimpers and moans, begging for more. The sound of our skin slapping punctuates our heavy breaths. I keep up the pace, thrusting in and out of her, looking into the pools of her eyes that melt my walls of control. Here and now, I can see that only the two of us exist in this vortex. I want her to remember this moment forever. To picture this moment whenever she closes her eyes, to touch herself whenever I cross her mind, remembering what I make her feel. One hand grabs her breast, cupping it and pinching her nipple.

“Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes falling closed, then open again.

I lift one of her knees with the other hand, opening her up wider for deeper thrusts. Her heat grips me so hard that my head falls onto her shoulder and I groan into her neck. “You break me, Holly. In ways that no one else can.”

She responds with a moan, pushing her hips to me, grinding hard as my orgasm rushes closer. It feels like I’m being consumed—every one of my cells on fire for this feeling I’m addicted to. Pushing in faster and faster, I aim for the climax I can already see in her eyes.

She lets out a loud moan, and I cover her mouth with mine to muffle the cry of her orgasm. Her body tensing and tightening around me sends me over the edge. I move faster, harder, sending her breasts jiggling as my climax rips through me. A couple more deep, hard thrusts and I spill into her and collapse in her arms.

“You belong to me, too, Ethan.”

She circles an arm around me, and we lay there quietly for a moment, trying to catch our breaths.

23

HOLLY

There’sa certain kind of magic in being swept off your feet by a handsome hockey star. The kind that’s straight out of a rom-com with no script; and the leading lady? Well, that’s me—sitting in a helicopter, trying not to scream my lungs out.

The wind is whipping through the open cabin as we’re hurtling through the sky like two action movie stars, my current mission being a battle of keeping my hair from turning into a windstorm of tangles.

I'm sitting here, staring out the window, trying not to think about how fast my heart is racing. Ethan has that brooding, silent look again—refusing to tell the girl he’s whisking off in afreaking helicopterwhere they’re headed.

Apparently, surprises are his jam. Who would’ve guessed?

He’s sitting there all cool and collected while I’m clutching my seatbelt like it’s my emotional support dog.

“Are you sure you won’t tell me where we’re going?” My voice is barely audible over the roar of the blades slicing through the sky.

Ethan’s mouth twitches into that trademark smirk, the one that should come with a warning label. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Not helpful. At all. Patience may be a virtue, but it’s definitely not my strongest one right now.

There’s a flutter of anticipation buzzing beneath my skin, a constant hum ofwhat on earth is happening. The view below is all blue skies and endless ocean, stretching out like a scene from a dream.

When the helicopter finally dips, descending toward what looks like a floating paradise, I recall the sight welcoming me from several nights of scrolling through vacation ads and watching numerous clips of travel influencers—Ibiza. My heart skips a beat, and then another, as recognition sinks in.

Yes, it is Ibiza.

IBIZA.

This isn’t just any random weekend getaway. This is the place that’s been sitting on my bucket list, staring at me like some far-off fantasy. The island’s sun-soaked beaches stretch out below, golden sand glistening in the afternoon light, the Mediterranean Sea sparkling like a giant sapphire dropped from the heavens. It’s the kind of postcard-perfect beauty that feels like it belongs in someone else’s life. And yet, here it is—right in front of me.

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