Page 17 of The Wrong Boss

Cole dug through his pants pocket and pulled out a condom from his wallet. The mattress dipped as he kneeled onto it, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth.

“You still want this?” he asked, rolling the condom on his shaft. His gaze lingered between my legs before moving up my body and to my face.

As his palm slid from my knee to my hip, I nodded. “Yes.”

“You want my cock?”

I arched a brow. “What, you want me to say it?”

That devilish smile curled his lips, and I think I fell a little bit in love with him right then and there. “That’s exactly what I want. I want you”—his hand slipped between my legs and hepushed a finger inside me without hesitation—“to tell me just how badly you want me to fuck you right now.”

I rolled my eyes, even though his words excited me and my body tried to buck into the delicious intrusion of his touch. Somehow, the tension that had thrummed between us in the parking lot had turned into a game. He liked it when I talked back—and I liked it when he did what he wanted with me. It was a push and pull that stoked the heat between us to a fever pitch.

“You’re such a typical man,” I told him, trying to sound unbothered but not quite able to keep the trembling from my voice. He worked another finger inside me and curled them just so. His eyes were on me, watching for every movement of my body, every micro expression I tried to hide. I arched a brow. “You just want me to beg and stroke your ego.”

He hummed, looking almost bored while his hand worked between my legs and made tension curl deep in the pit of my stomach. “I just want you to tell me the truth, sweetheart.”

“Mm-hmm.”

A quick flash of a smile told me I’d understood the game, and he worked his fingers deeper inside me before retreating. This time, I wasn’t able to hold back the gasp, nor was I able to stop my back from arching as I tried to chase his touch.

“Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’m starting to regret ever meeting you, you know that?” I asked as my hips rolled against his hand. Pleasure shattered through me, heat and tightness clenching across my abdomen. I was so close. Breathless, I ground myself against his hand as he grunted his approval.

He pulled back so his touch was the barest brush of a fingertip against aching, wet flesh. “I think that’s a lie, Carrie. I think this moment right here is the best thing that could have happened to you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you’d think that.”

“Best thing that’s happened to me,” he noted, almost too quiet for me to hear. His fingers moved to my clit, circling just close enough to tease but not to satisfy. The frustration must have shown on my face, because Cole flashed me another smile. Before I knew what I was doing, I was grinning back at him.

Sex hadn’t been this fun in years. Truthfully, I’d forgotten that itcouldbe fun. I’d forgotten that I could feel comfortable with a man to the point where he could tease and taunt, and I could do it right back.

It didn’t matter that we’d just met. It wasn’t important that we’d already agreed that our relationship wouldn’t go beyond this moment. In this room, in the shadow of the fading sun streaming through the sheer curtains, with all my worldly possessions piled high near the far wall, all that mattered was the bright, intense connection of our bodies and beings—for however long it would last.

His fingers were still torturing me with their barely-there touches, but I wasn’t ready to give in. The tension between us felt too good to stop, so I said, “What are you going to do if I never tell you what you want to hear?”

Yelping as he tugged me down off the pillows, I gasped as my wrists were pinned above my head. The full weight of him bore down on me and pressed me into the mattress, our chests brushing as he brought his lips to mine. His cock was notchedbetween my thighs. He slid himself against me as he kissed me, deep and thorough.

I moaned as his hips ground against mine. His stubble abraded my lips and jaw as our kisses became desperate. Unable to tug my wrists away from his grip, I arched into his touch and squeezed his hips between my thighs.

His shaft slid against the outside of me, so far from where I wanted it.

“Tell me what you want, Carrie,” he crooned in my ear.

“You’re the most irritating man I’ve ever met,” I panted back. I glared at him as he pulled away, bucking against his hold as pleasure tightened the knot in the pit of my stomach. Clenching on emptiness, I refused to give in.

“That’s not it,” he said conversationally. “All you’ve got to do is say four little words. Repeat after me: I want your cock.”

“Fuck you very much,” I said instead, then moaned as he ground himself against me more deeply. And yes, I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel the stretch of him, wanted to wrap my legs around him and feel him shudder as he groaned my name.

But it felt too good to go toe-to-toe with him, to stoke the flames between us that much higher.

Shifting to trap both wrists in one palm, Cole reached between my legs and drove a finger inside me. I whimpered, wanting more but too stubborn to say it. His thumb worked my clit while he worked another finger inside, and tears gathered at the corners of my eyes.

It felt so good. Too good. It felt like the end of me, trapped here by a man who already felt like too big a part of my life.

My orgasm was a slow, undeniable flush. I gasped out his name and felt rather than heard the rumble of his answering praise.

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