Page 30 of Like a Boss

Hugging my laptop to my chest, I meet the eyes of my predator. He doesn’t say a word, just continues dissecting me, tilting his head to the side. He looks remarkable in a light gray, three-piece suit. His whiskers are a little longer today, giving him a rougher-looking exterior—I like it.

“Is there anything further you require of me, sir?” I ask, unable to keep the tremble from my voice.

He leans against the wooden door, sill silent, still watching me with an unreadable stare.

I can feel the static, the electrical current, the moment he folds his arms over his chest. We’re high up, fifteen floors, and bounded by frosted glass. No one can help me up here. It’s just my Tiger and me.

“Yes.” The single word holds so much promise and chance. “Come here.” Those two words however are spiked with nothing but danger.

My feet act before my brain can scream at me for going against better judgment, but the moment I’m enveloped in his signature fragrance, I tell my good sense to hit the road.

He makes no secret that he’s looking at my breasts as his gaze drops to the front of my blouse. My chest begins rising and falling, my breathing choppy and winded. Pushing off the door, he strolls forward, stopping an inch away. His towering height dwarfs mine, but I won’t allow that to deter me. I lift my eyes, a silent challenge.

“Does it please you to know that your antics have left my cock hard all day?”

“W-what?” I stammer, almost gagging on my tongue.

But he doesn’t allow a moment to collect my thoughts. He latches on to my wrist and presses my hand against his semi-hard length. A stunned gasp catches in my throat—he’s been hard all day? Because of me?

Answering my silent question, he guides my fingers to rub over the growing predicament in his pants. He feels incredible and memories of what he felt like inside of me, has me rubbing harder, not needing further encouragement.

“Congratulations, Bluebird, you’ve won this round.” He gently removes his hand from mine, confident I will continue this show on my own, and I do.

Each movement has him growing harder and harder until he’s standing at full salute. Peering down timidly, my mouth waters and I’m mortified that I want a taste.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he hums, watching me as I envision dropping to my knees and blowing him in this fancy room.

I continue stroking him, quickening the pace, watching Tiger’s mouth part, his eyes locked with mine. With steady fingers, he reaches forward and begins unsnapping the buttons on my blouse. When I’m halfway undressed, he parts the material with a finger, growling the moment he sees my blue bra.

“This looks even better than I imagined it would. And I can assure you, I’ve been imagining.”

I try to stifle what his words are doing to me, but there’s no point. Just like he said the moment we first touched, he knows what my body wants. And right now, it wants him. No matter how hard I try to hate him or stop myself from wanting him, I end up wanting him all the more. My traitorous body wins out yet again.

His finger slides along the silk of my bra cup, sashaying up and down at a deliriously slow speed. When he continues the movement, skating onto my bare skin, my flesh breaks out in an inferno of need, and I cup his erection firmly.

He grunts and arches into my hold. “You impressed me today, Bluebird. That smart mouth of yours always does.”

“Thank you,” I falter, sighing when he slips his warm hand into my bra.

His experienced finger traces around my areola, which has my nipples turning into rock-hard peaks. He rolls my left nipple, cupping my full breast and massaging me with a firm, desperate need. “I didn’t appreciate these when I had the chance. Shame on me because they are fucking unbelievable. I better make up for lost time.”

Before I have time to voice my approval, he yanks down my bra cup, freeing my needy breast. Bending forward, he leisurely circles his wet tongue around my areola before drawing mynipple into his mouth. I cry out, my movement over his pants stilling, as all I can focus on is the way his mouth feels on me.

With one hand firmly affixed to my waist, he slithers the other down over my quivering stomach. He continues his journey until his hand ventures underneath my skirt, nestling between my legs. The dampness on the outside of my underwear highlights how ready I am. He doesn’t speak, as our actions speak louder than words.

He continues sucking my breast, tonguing the underside and pulling my nipple until I am begging, pleading, needing more. My breast pops free as he drags his mouth away. “What do you want?”

How does he expect me to speak? He’s everywhere, but it’s not enough.

I groan impatiently, not wanting to talk.

“Tell me or so help me, God, I will leave you to take care of yourself,” he warns, the threat sincere.

“I want to… come. Please.” My voice is hoarse, sounding unlike me.

My answer pleases him. “Yes, you do.”

He dives for my breast, flexing his fingertips around my waist and driving his finger up and down my entrance. The delicious contact is still over my underwear, but doing it this way feels wicked, almost like we’re not breaking all the rules.

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