Page 21 of Dear Grumpy Boss

Her body shudders around me.

She opens her eyes and they are wet too. Her tongue swipes out to lick her lips. “You…I want to please you. What should I do?”

I step back from her, the image of her like this, ravaged at my hands and mouth, now included in the database of her pics in my head. “You can take your resignation back.”

The bastard in me wants her acquiescence before I give her anymore. Or rather, it’s the self-preservation instinct in me. If I go any further, she’s going to own me before I have anything of her. Not that the first hasn’t already come to pass.

Her entire body stiffens. “That’s not how—”

Her phone and mine chirp loudly, one after the other, cutting her off.

“Thatishow this works,” I say. “If you want more of this, more of me, you stay.”

Picking up the sweatshirt from her feet, I throw it at her without looking back. It kills me to leave her like this, but I have to.

I hear her growl and that too goes to my balls. And I walk out of the penthouse, leaving behind the sexiest creature I’ve ever known. With the most painfully hard cock in the history of erections between my legs.

Eight

Sasha

My boss is a brute,a… bully, and a bit of a bastard.

I rifle through my brain for more bad words to call him as I walk the perimeter of the luxury ballroom, making sure everything is running smoothly.

What happened in the penthouse a couple of hours ago still feels surreal.

Every time I pass a glass wall, I stop and stare at myself. When I stole into the bathroom earlier to change into my “party dress,” I locked the door for a few minutes.

There are stubble marks on my breasts and my nipples feel extra sensitive. I don’t even have to close my eyes to imagine his mouth there, sucking and nibbling away as if I’m his favorite treat.

Shamelessly, I cupped my core with my tights on, just to feel the needy pulse there. Zayn has unlocked something within me—like flipping a switch to my sexuality—and all I want is to explore more with him. I want to do things to him that will make his knees quake like mine did.

My body—my achy, sensitive nipples and the sweet throbbing awareness between my legs—wants to agree to his conditions, however outrageous they are, and just…surrender.

God, the things he said and did to me…

He’s wanted me this whole time. I still can’t wrap my head around it. If I didn’t know that Zayn never lies, I’d call it another ploy to make me stay.

So, if he does want me, why not take what I’m freely offering tonight? This way, he can ruin me, as he put it, and he won’t even have to see me again. Except for some random holidays when Adam forces us together.

I hide behind a potted palm, next to floor-to-ceiling frosted-glass windows. Outside, rain is pounding away, matching my own tumult. Increasingly dire storm warnings have been issued in the last half hour. The last thing I want to do right now is to pretend like I’m having a great time.

But the annual company party’s my favorite project and Zayn gave me free rein for four years. While I don’t mingle or dance with any of the staff—only Nathan or their other friend Max, or Adam, if he’s in town, has ever asked me—tonight I feel extra removed from the festivities. The fact that I’d chosen the theme this year to be centered around Valentine’s Day mocks me.

Though I’m glad I booked the ballroom in the hotel with a skyway connected to our office building. At least the staff won’t get drenched in their fancy cocktail dresses.

People are filtering into the ballroom—everyone part of a pair, eyes widening at the magical tableau I’ve created this year.

The floors are polished marble and the layout is open, with a spacious dance floor at the center, surrounded by round tables with white tablecloths, each draped with lace overlays.

The grand chandelier, made of crystal and gold, hangs in the center of the room, casting a soft, romantic glow over the proceedings. Around the perimeter of the ballroom, cascadingfairy lights are draped like delicate strands of stars, giving off a soft, enchanting ambiance

Each table has a tall glass vase filled with a mix of deep-red roses, white lilies, and long-stemmed, blush-pink tulips. Around the base of the vase are scattered rose petals and tiny fairy lights that glow softly in the dim light, along with place cards and gift envelopes that I personally put together for the entire staff.

The DJ’s playing popular love ballads from the last two decades, each song twisting me up a little more. Servers are circulating with trays of hors d'oeuvres that I had the most delightful time tasting before ordering—miniature crab cakes, bruschetta with fresh tomato and basil, and delicate smoked salmon canapés.

But the last thing I feel like right now is eating or revealing myself to anyone. What Zayn did to me…I feel it in every inch of my body and wouldn’t be surprised if it glows like a neon tattoo on my forehead.

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