Page 11 of My Bossy Valentine

She moans, hips rolling against my fingers.

“Grip the desk.” When she doesn't move, I nip her breast. “Avery. Grip the desk.” Her hands go over her head to find the edge and hold tight. “That's it. Good girl.” She trembles at thepraise. I smile, feeling feral. She likes that? Fucking perfect. I slide my fingers through her folds again, putting pressure there, and circle her clit with my thumb.

Seeing her stretched out, body at my command, shifts something in my chest. I need this. I needher.Always.

I drop to my knees and grip the sides of her panties, pulling them off. Baring the rest of her to me. She arches her back, thighs trembling. Inviting me to sample more.

I nuzzle the delicate skin at the inside of each thigh.

“Don't stop,” she whispers.

As if I could. I drag my tongue through her folds and almost come from the taste of her. I'm instantly addicted. Gripping her thighs tighter, I lick and kiss her, sucking her clit,feastingon her, until she cries out with the strength of her orgasm. “Give it all to me. Good girl.”

Avery shudders with a second, mini orgasm, collapsing back against my desk.

I stand, admiring her wrecked, naked body with her long black hair splayed on the surface, the blue streaks glinting in the light.

Tugging my belt free, I yank open my pants and fist myself. The pleasure is almost painful. One stroke, two. That's all it takes before I'm spilling into my hand, gasping for air.

I crossed a line today. Just not the one I thought. I made my assistant come on my desk.

She made me into a different man. One willing to take a risk I swore I never would.

Chapter Seven

Avery

Nothing could have preparedme for the intensity of Spencer's touch. I've kissed boys before, even let one touch me some in high school. Staring at the ceiling in the office, trying to catch my breath, I'm achingly aware that those dalliances were nothing more than clumsy fumbling. A man who knows how to bring a woman pleasure before taking his own is an entirely different experience.

Spencer wipes his hands with a tissue and tucks his cock away.

He leans over me and cups my cheek, stroking his thumb across my skin. “Beautiful,” he whispers, and presses a kiss to my forehead.

I feel beautiful. I feel like I could fly.

He tugs my bra straps up, the hands me my panties. “Let me get something to clean you up.” He unlocks the door and pokes his head out, then slips into the bathroom.

I take the time to adjust my bra and pull my dress back on.

He returns with a damp washcloth, and I'm touched by his thoughtfulness. Only, there's something in his eyes. The warmth from a moment ago is gone, replaced with... almost a hollowness. My chest freezes. Does he regret this? Before I'm even off his desk?

My hands shake as I rush to clean up and slide my panties back on.

“Here,” he says, holding his hand out for the washcloth.

I hand it to him, suddenly so afraid of what comes next. Anson said a man likes a direct question. Do I have the courage to ask? I must. I have to know. “Spencer, wait.” He stops in the doorway, gripping the washcloth until his knuckles turn white. Is he as uncertain as I am? The possibility buoys my resolve. “Tell me you don't regret what happened just now.”

“I don't. Not for a moment.”

The knot that formed in my chest slowly unfurls. “Then why? I mean, I feel you pulling away. Did I do something wrong?”

“Jesus, no.” He drops the washcloth and strides back to me, cupping my face in both his large hands. “Not you, Avery.” His eyes slide closed for a second, then he presses his forehead to mine.

Our breaths mingle. I can feel my heartbeat fluttering in my ears like a trapped butterfly.

“You make me feel things... I swore I'd never let someone get this close again. I built the thickest walls I could to assure it. Then you came with your sunshine and your muffins and blue hair. Your daily fuck-me fantasy clothes that drive me insane with need.”

A laugh escapes my lips. I've never heard my wardrobe described like that.

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