Page 33 of Dear Grumpy Boss

“That was…” Mouse says, and a half sob, half laugh shakes her shoulders. “Mind-blowing.” She pushes her head up and presses a kiss to my head. “Are you okay, Zayn? Was that…good for you?”

I’m still tucked up inside her snug sheath, and that question makes my dick harden and push against the walls.

“I guess that answers my question,” she says with a giggle I rarely hear anymore.

I blow a puff of air over her nipple and it stands to attention. “You have the sexiest tits I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, my voice still hoarse from how loudly I came.

“Thanks. I grew them all by myself,” she says, sounding drunk.

I look up at her from my neat little perch between them and grin. If it’s not her lush curves, it’s her sass that owns me. Her fingers play with my sweaty hair. The other hand traverses my back as if she’s searching for something. A wary expression enters her eyes.

“Mouse? What is it?”

Her throat moves up and down on a swallow. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

I pull out of her without thought for her battered pussy.

She grimaces and tries to hide it. Not well, though.

Heartless bastard that I am, I’m arrested by the sight of my cum leaking out of her. My dick lengthens, eager to do more damage.

Just like me, her gaze is caught on the sight too. A soft, satisfied mewl falls from her mouth and sears itself into my dick, my brain and my heart. It’s entirely possible that my little mouse is as possessive as I am.

I bend my torso over her and press a kiss at the top of her pubic bone. Sex and sweat and musk, she’s such a delicious cocktail of scents that I want it bottled for just me. No other man.

“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” I say, giving her my hand.

She shies her gaze from me and shrugs, reminding me of my abruptness. Locking my fingers around her ankles, I pull her down to the edge of the bed. I take her surprised mouth in a rough kiss that makes my cock throb afresh. “We’re breakingfor a quick shower and snacks and hydration, Mouse. Then I’m going to fall asleep with my cock inside your pussy and my lips wrapped around your tits.”

Thirteen

Sasha

The lights comeon with a vengeance just as Zayn is toweling me down.

For a second, I’m so badly disoriented that I nearly sway at the sight of my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes are wide, my mouth looks smudged, and my flesh is all shades of pink and honey gold from the thorough rubdown he’s given me.

I look different.

I look fucked to within an inch of my life.

I look…beautiful in that raw and real way that Zayn described me this afternoon.

Was it just this morning that I tendered my resignation? That I thought my life with my grumpy boss was over?

I feel like a different Sasha. Not just beautiful, but bold and decisive and sexy. Like a romance novel heroine, I reached for what I wanted and God, the bounty I received in return…

And no, I’m not going to dwell on the ending of this story. Not when Zayn’s passion and possession are primal reminders inked into my flesh. There are several dark smudges on my skin—around my breasts and on my hips and near my inner thighs—all thanks to him. Over the arch of my neck, there’s a darker bruise from his teeth.

My nipples look puffy and when I shift restlessly for just a second, discombobulated by this version of me, I feel the soreness between my thighs.

No, not soreness, so much as an ache. An emptiness. There’s Zayn-shaped emptiness in my pussy and my heart, everywhere. As if he unmade and then remade me, to be even more in love with him.

Remembering where I am, I look back and down over my shoulder. After a quick shower—a feast for my already sensitized senses in the dark—he is on his knees behind me, rubbing body oil into my legs.

Jet-black hair stuck to his scalp, his face is even more angular than usual. And for some reason, he looks as wrecked as I feel. Even though I haven’t left marks on his flesh. I want to.

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