Page 70 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

“I’m at home. My real home. I’ll send my car. Come here?”

“OK.”

“Thank you.” That’s all he says before he hangs up. A few seconds later, he texts the instructions for where to meet his driver.

Ronan: I mean it. Thank you. I’m sorry I’m such a stubborn bull sometimes

I don’t have a good reply, so instead I grab my purse and head downstairs to find Harvey waiting. He must have been close by.

The drive to Ronan’s real home is short. I guess that’s why he asked me to pick this area of town when I made the booking. When I ring the bell, he buzzes me up and opens the door. He’s bare chested, wearing only a thin pair of sweats. It’s a look that’s fast becoming my favorite look for Ronan Kernos. As much as I like the polished billionaire businessman, I love the ruffled, vulnerable-looking minotaur who’s starting to let me scratch beneath the surface a little.

And let’s face it, I’m half in love with those pecs and those abs. They sure don’t hurt.

As soon as I enter, he steps into my personal space, an intense expression on his handsome face. He gathers me into his arms and buries his nose into my neck. I was craning to look around his brawny shoulders and get my first glimpse of his apartment, but his lips against my skin make me forget everything else.

I gasp when his lips trace up my neck, finding that spot behind my ear that makes me weak at the knees. “Ronan!”

He groans against my skin. “Let me make you need this as much as I do right now. I fucking need to lose myself in you.”

Heat instantly surges through my body.

“OK.” My voice is breathless even before he kisses me.

Ronan practically tears the front of my dress open, exposing my cleavage.

Once we lock lips, I barely get to come up for air. The pleasure of his lips and tongue on mine is too addictive. His hands roam my body, restlessly tug at the dress, and fondle my ass through the thin layer of fabric. He backs me up until I’m pressed up against a wall. I have the vaguest concept of the layout of his apartment, catching a glimpse of an enormous double-sided fireplace and a huge flat screen. Then I have to clutch for his shoulders when he slides a hand up my thigh and rubs possessively at my pussy through my panties.

Oh god! How does he always know just how to touch me? It’s like he knows more about my body than I do. Next moment, he’s sliding the underwear aside to push a finger through my folds. I groan. I’d like to lift my leg and give him access, but there’s nothing to put my foot on. I want him to keep touching me just like this. Just like this because it feels so good.

He circles my clit with his knuckle and I moan with pleasure. The feeling trickles down my spine and pools in my center. Knees trembling, I long to be on my back under him, looking up at his intense expression.

Instead, he lifts my arms and pins them against the wall above me, holding me with a single hand while his other continues circling, teasing.

All the time I’m getting closer. Winding tighter against his fingers.

Then he stops. “I want to hear you beg for it, Justine. Tell me what a needy little slut you are.”

I shake my head, my horror showing on my face. “I can’t say that!”

He spears a finger inside me. It’s thick. Slightly calloused despite his desk job. My pussy clenches, seeking more.

Instead, he holds still.

“Ronan!”

“You want me to make you come, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me you’re my good little slut and maybe I will.”

He delves deeper, lifting me onto my toes, but never giving me the movement and friction that I crave.

“It’s not a dirty word, Justine. It’s beautiful. When you’re like this you’re beautiful and I want you to feel it.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Please, Ronan. Not that.”

He frowns and pauses.

---