Page 86 of The Boss Situation

“Good. It’s best if you keep it that way.”

“I will get you back. And it will be so much worse,” she snaps.

“I honestly can’t wait,” I tell her.

“That was the first and last opportunity you’ll ever get with me, Banks. I won’t make that mistake again.” She seethes, opening the door.

“Can’t wait to make you eat a shit sandwich full of your words,” I mutter, my voice gravelly as I watch her from the doorway.

I cross my arms over my chest. She flips me off as she walks away with trembling legs, wet shorts, and nipples so hard that they could cut glass. Anger radiates off her, and I can tell she’s turned on.

Unfortunately, I’m not immune; my cock throbs painfully in my pants. I’m tempted to go to her, lift her into my arms, and carry her back to my bedroom. I’d fuck her until she couldn’t walk, imprinting my cock so deep inside her that she’d know she belonged to me from that moment on. No one else. Even if we hate each other.

Billie enters her loft and slams the door.

I chuckle, loving how well I’ve learned her.

I escape inside, feeling like a stranger here.

My cock is a goddamn ticking time bomb, throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat of its own. It’s so hard that it’s practically begging for mercy, but I’m not in the mood to give it any relief—not yet. I fumble with my pants, fingers trembling like a fucking teenager as I unbutton and unzip. The second my dick springs free, it’s like it’s got a mind of its own, standing at full attention, pre-cum already pooling at the tip, like it’s ready to explode.

I’m a mess, and it’s all because of her.

Billie. That bratty, spoiled little queen who’s been driving meinsane for years. Ever since we met, she’s been the thorn in my side, the itch I can’t scratch, the fire I can’t put out.

And tonight? Tonight, she was here. In my apartment. Those icy-blue eyes that see right through me, those full lips that could ruin me if she ever decided to use them properly. We had drunk too much, and she let me touch her. Fuck, she wanted me. I almost kept going. I almost gave her what she desperately wanted. Afterward, I’d have fucked her senseless.

Now I’m here, alone, with nothing but the memory of her, along with the scent on my fingers and the taste of her on my tongue.

I bring my hand up to my nose and inhale deeply. She smells like sin and salt, like something sweet and dangerous that I know I shouldn’t want but can’t resist. God, she tasted even better—like trouble that could destroy me if I let it. I want her to ruin me, to take me apart piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the sound of her name on my lips.

I storm into my bedroom, stripping off my clothes like they’re on fire. The sheets are cool against my skin as I slide between them, but they do nothing to calm the heat burning through me. My hand finds my cock again, and I don’t waste any time. I wrap my fingers around it, squeezing just hard enough to make my breath hitch, and start stroking. Slow at first, just to tease myself, because I know I’m not gonna let this end anytime soon. Not yet.

I close my eyes, and there she is. Billie.

Fucking Billie.

Her black hair falls around her gorgeous face as she looks up at me from between my legs, those blue eyes locked on mine, like she’s daring me to stop her. Her tongue flicks out, catching the pre-cum on the tip of my cock, and I swear I can feel it—hot and wet and so fucking perfect.

“Fuck,” I growl, my grip tightening as I imagine her swallowing me down, taking me so deep that I can feel the back of her throat.

My hips buck up into my hand as I stroke harder, faster, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. I can almost hear hermoaning, those soft little noises she makes when she’s losing control, and it’s enough to make my balls tighten.

But I’m not gonna let myself come.

Not yet.

Not until I’ve imagined every detail of what I’d do to her if I had her here right now.

I start with her mouth. Those lips wrap around me, sucking until I’m dizzy. Then I flip her over, spread her legs, and bury my face between them until she screaming my name. She tastes like heaven—I know it; I can feel it. She’s so fucking wet for me, her pussy clenching around my tongue as I lick and suck and tease her until she begs me to fuck her.

And I would.

Oh, I fucking would.

I push inside her, inch by inch, until she’s full of me, until she’s gasping and clawing at my back like she can’t get close enough. I fuck her until she’s a whimpering mess, coming so hard that she forgets her own name.

And then I do it again. And again. And again.

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