Page 26 of Bossing My Holiday
I work on the zipper, and true to her word, it’s good and stuck. I wiggle it up and down, trying to set it free, but it appears some of the fabric is bunched in the zipper, causing it to snag and not move.
“Damn, what did you do?”
“I don’t know. Can you get it out?”
“I’m trying.”
I meet her eyes again and instantly picture how good she would look getting fucked from behind in triplicate. I’d step up onto the platform and slide—nope. Not going there. Ever.
“I have to touch you more to try to work it free. Okay?”
“I don’t care where you touch me. Just do it already.”
“I hate it when women say that to me.”
She laughs and sighs. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny, but you have to relax. You getting all worked up like this won’t help me get it out.”
“I hate it when men say that to me.”
I grin and cock an eyebrow at her, and she giggles lightly.
Some of the tension ebbs, but that doesn’t last once my hand slides to her upper ribs, doing my best to avoid the side of her breast as I use her body for leverage. But still, this zipper won’t budge. And with every move and shift, the front of the dress goes with it, the swell of her perfect tits taunting and teasing me, the hem of the dress rising, creeping up her thighs, and getting closer and closer to her pussy.
A pussy I can’t help but wonder if it’s wet. As wet as my dick is hard. I think about a million other things. I try to focus on anything else. But it’s impossible with her like this, with my hands on her and her body and hair so close I can smell them, and the erotic fantasy of the mirror surrounding us.
“Can’t you get it?”
“No,” I grit out. “How did you zip this up?”
“I don’t know?!” she shrieks. “I just want to get out of it.”
“Relax. Stop squirming. I’ll get you out.”
“You men and your stupid clothes. I hate you now as much as I hate him. It’s official. I didn’t so much on the plane, but now I do.”
“You won’t be saying that when I get the zipper undone.”
My hand slides around her ribs to hold her in place when she unexpectedly shifts, and suddenly I’m cupping her breast. And considering how turned on I already am, and that finally touching her like this feels like some sort of relief mixed with the best thing ever, a groan slips out. I don’t know how to stop it. It’s a reflex to touching a perfect breast.
My eyes flash up to hers in the mirror, and I curse under mybreath for groaning and for being in this position with her in the first place. She gasps, her eyes wide and unblinking. Blood pounds through my ears—and let’s face it, my dick—but she doesn’t push me away.
Why isn’t she pushing me away?
And more importantly, why am I not moving my hand away?
She’s still, no longer squirming as we stare in a deadlock with my hand on her breast. My thumb shifts ever so subtly, noting the skin it’s touching, and I ache with the need to slip my hand under the remaining fabric and cover her so I can feel all of her bare. Her cheeks are flushed, and her gray eyes are the color of the winter sky outside, but then she does the craziest thing.
She bites her lip, and instinct takes over rational thought. I knead it a little. And she still doesn’t stop me.
Stop me, Waverly, because I can’t stop myself.
A soft little noise escapes her lips that I swear is a moan. I fucking swear it is, and my other hand abandons the zipper and finds her hip. Without stopping myself, I spin her around and smash my lips to hers while adjusting my hand to keep it on her breast.
And fuck. Just… fuck. She’s as perfect as I knew she would be. And fuck, because I’m kissing Waverly in a dressing room and she’s to be my assistant and she’s pretending to be my best friend’s girl. But I can’t stop. It’s what I’ve been saying all along. I was operating on a short fuse before, but now it’s been lit, and there’s no stopping my explosive reaction to her.
The best part? She kisses me back. Her hands dive into the back of my hair, and she holds my head to hers as my tongue slips into her mouth. I squeeze and rub her breast while I grip her hip and tilt my head so I can take her deeper.
