Page 29 of Dear Grumpy Boss

Electricity buzzes up and down my spine and I groan a guttural sound. He repeats the motion a few times and I chase his mouth with my pussy. His tongue licks down and then he thrusts the tip into my slit.

Incoherent sounds escape me as he fucks me with his tongue. But it’s the overflowing feelings in my heart that elevate this into something else. The sight of this man…my first crush, my grumpy boss, the only man I ever wanted, with his head between my thighs, it’s better than any romance novel I’ve ever read.

My orgasm is a shimmering mirage inching closer and closer. I’m crying fat tears now, desperate to finish, chasing the tail of a star.

He pulls back, his elbows digging into my fleshy thighs. Only when I register the stretch do I realize how indecently I’m splayed out. How his eyes gleam with a near manic desire. His lips are damp with my arousal and the champagne. “Shall I stop, Mouse?”

“Don’t you dare stop, Zayn! I did it all for you, okay. Today, and for four years and even before…” I swallow the words. “All I ever wanted was to please you. To gain your approval and attention.”

“That’s all I need to hear, baby girl.” He grins that rakish smile and dives back in.

I barely get used to the assault of his lips on my clit when he thrusts a finger into me. My spine straightens as if someone wedged a fork in there. It pinches a little but I’ll be damned if I say anything. There’s no place for my twisted nerves to land because his mouth is brutal on my clit.

Another finger thrusts in and he curses. “Fuck, Mouse. So wet and tight and slick…all for me. You’re going to milk me so tight and so good, aren’t you?”

I nod, his words twisting the coiled spring in my belly tighter and tighter.

He adds one more finger and the pinch is a raw, burning stretch now. How are we ever going to fit that monster cock of his into me?

I gasp in a breath but those clever fingers of his are probing some deep, delicious spot I’ve only read about.

“You have such a pretty pussy, Mouse. And it’s mine, isn’t it?”

“All yours, Zayn. All of me…is yours. Only yours,” I cry.

He halts the sucking of my clit and looks up. Possessive need blows the black of his eyes. Then he tugs the thick bundle between his teeth and I’m flying away.

The cork from the champagne bottle has nothing on how high and how far I fly. My thighs clamp his head and I’m shaking and crying and coming. And coming, because the man is relentless. He keeps licking at me as if I’m his last meal.

One orgasm rolls into another one, wrecking me, remaking me, my body nothing but a thousand fragments of pleasure.

Eleven

Sasha

I lie on the bed,my body humming with aftershocks. The sheets are damp and cool against my skin. A cocktail of scents—my own sweat and arousal, damp earth and oak moss from the man lying behind me—fills my nostrils.

Without realizing it, I breathe in a lungful, afraid that I might never again know this particular combination. Every inhale draws more of him into my senses. I’m not sure if I want the lights back on or not. Although I do want to know what’s going on inside his complex mind.

The darkness is deeper than before as the candles gutter, though the flickering glow of the fireplace casts shadows of our lying bodies on the far wall. I like us like this, tangled up in each other, sated. Not him, though. He didn’t even get started. That sense of failure takes the edge off of my nearly violent orgasms.

For a moment, I wonder if he will abandon me, if it’s all he’s going to offer me tonight.

And yet, he’s quiet behind me, drawing lazy patterns on my bare skin. His touch is almost reverent, as if he’s memorizing every inch of me. It gives me the courage to face him, to let this unfold as it should’ve from the beginning.

With me grabbing what I want with both hands and my entire soul.

I turn my head and our gazes hold. His is filled with satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes my heart clench.

One abraded hand pushes me to lie on my back. Taut muscles—that I’ve yet to touch—clench as he props himself up on his elbow.

“You okay?” he asks softly, tracing a finger under my eye.

“I must look a sight, “I say, forcing a laugh.

Zayn shifts closer, his hand moving to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips in a feathery caress. “I like you like this. Even better than the polished you from earlier.”

“How?”

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