Page 15 of Kissing the Boss
My hands tremble slightly as I reach for the hem of my sweater. I pull it up slowly, watching his eyes follow the movement, darkening as each inch of skin is revealed. When I finally tug it over my head, his sharp intake of breath makes me feel powerful, desired.
I sit before him in just my skirt and a lacy blue bra that suddenly seems far more daring than when I put it on this morning.
"Fucking beautiful," he murmurs, hands returning to my waist. His fingers feel scorching against my bare skin. "Like something from a dream."
"Not a dream," I assure him, reaching for the hem of his undershirt. "Very real."
He helps me pull it off, and then there's nothing between my hands and the warm expanse of his chest.
"War wound?" I ask, tracing it gently.
"Motorcycle accident. Nineteen." His voice catches as my fingers trail lower, following the line of hair that disappears beneath his jeans. "Cassandra..."
"I've thought about this," I admit, running my nails lightly up his sides, delighting in his shiver. "What you'd look like. How you'd feel."
"And?" His hands slide up my back, finding the clasp of my bra.
"Better than I imagined."
The bra loosens, straps sliding down my arms. Jonathan's hands follow their path, easing the garment away until my breasts are bare to his hungry gaze. The cool air of the garage makes my nipples tighten further, or perhaps it's the heat in his eyes as he looks at me.
I arch toward him, needing his hands on me.
He doesn't make me wait. His palms cup the weight of my breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks in a way that sends sparks of pleasure straight to my core. When he bends to take one nipple in his mouth, I cry out, fingers threading through his hair to hold him there.
His tongue circles the hardened bud, teeth grazing lightly before he sucks, hard enough to make me gasp. The contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air when he switches to my other breast has me squirming on the desk, seeking friction where I need it most.
As if reading my mind, one of his hands slides up my thigh, pushing my skirt higher. His fingers trace the edge of my underwear, teasing, not quite where I want them.
"Jonathan," I plead, spreading my thighs wider in invitation. "Touch me."
"Patience," he murmurs against my breast, but his hand inches higher, finally pressing against the damp fabric between my legs. "Oh, you're soaked."
I whimper as his finger traces me through the thin material, adding just enough pressure to drive me wild but not enough to satisfy. "Please. Don't tease."
He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine as his finger hooks in the waistband of my panties. "Tell me what you want, Cassandra. Exactly what you want."
"Your fingers," I gasp as he tugs the fabric aside. "Your mouth. Everything. I want everything."
His smile is dark, almost predatory. "Everything it is."
He sinks to his knees before me, hands sliding my underwear down my legs with agonizing slowness. My skirt is bunched around my waist, leaving me exposed to his gaze. I should feel embarrassed, but the naked hunger in his eyes makes me feel only desired, powerful.
"Wanted to taste you from the first moment," he confesses, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, working his way higher with deliberate patience. "Dreamed about it."
The first touch of his tongue makes me jerk, a cry escaping my lips. He holds my thighs open, giving himself access as he explores me with devastating thoroughness. Slow, broad strokes alternate with focused attention to the bundle of nerves that has me panting, trembling.
"Jonathan," I moan, one hand gripping the edge of the desk for support, the other tangled in his hair. "Oh god, yes."
He growls against me, the vibration adding a new dimension to the pleasure. When he slides two thick fingers inside me I nearly come undone.
The pressure builds, coiling tight in my core as he drives me higher. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, while his tongue circles my clit with relentless precision.
"I'm close," I gasp, thighs trembling around his head. "So close."
He sucks hard on my sensitive bud, fingers curling inside me, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes over me in waves, intense andall-consuming. I cry out his name, back arching off the desk as pleasure pulses through every inch of me.
Before I can fully recover, Jonathan is standing, fumbling with his belt. His eyes never leave mine as he pushes his jeans and boxers down his hips, freeing himself.
