Page 45 of Bossing My Holiday
He runs his finger up and down my slit, the thin, expensive satin doing nothing to hide my wetness that I’m positive is soaking through.
“I want you, Waverly. I realize it’s complicated, and we’ll get to that—we will, I promise—but right now, I want you so badly I can hardly function. Let me taste you. Let me make you come. Then let me inside you. Let me feel all of you. Please.”
He’s a bastard with that please. What is it about him that makes it so I can’t say no?
I give him a jerky nod because I want him too. I’m just afraid of what wanting him will cost me when this holiday is over. He tugs on the side, and without a lot of pressure, my freaking thong snaps. My chin drops, and I stare down at him in incredulous shock.
“Jerk! Those are some of my new ones.”
He smirks as he lifts and spreads my thighs open wide. “I’ll buy you new ones. All kinds of sexy new ones that I’ll tear off you one by one. It’ll be my favorite game ever. What sexy panties is Waverly wearing today that I can destroy?”
I shake my head and then gasp as he does that tongue thing with my clit.
“My parents may sleep late, but my grand-mère does not. Put a pillow over your face because I plan to make you scream.”
Wow, I am so outmatched with him.
But because I’d die a thousand deaths if his parents heard how I sound when their son goes down on me, I grab his pillow, which smells like him, and stuff it over my face. And it’s a good thing I do because two fingers slide inside of me as his lips suck my clit between them.
I moan, holding the pillow tight with one hand and using my other to grasp the thick strands of his hair. My brain won’t shut up. It’s short-circuiting, stuck on a vicious, unhelpful repeat.My boss is eating me out. My boss is eating me out. Holy shit, my boss is eating me outsogood.
“Ah! Tristan!” I cry into the pillow when he starts fucking me with his fingers while licking and sucking and flicking my clit with his tongue. I’m splayed open for him, and he’s takingfull advantage, devouring every inch of my pussy like it’s a Christmas feast.
I can feel my orgasm starting to build, my toes curling and my thighs trembling. I can’t see what he’s doing, and part of me knows that’s the better, smarter course for this, but the voyeuristic, dirty side of me wants to watch him as he goes down on me. I want to see his eyes and how he tastes me and fucks me with his fingers.
But the moment I begin to think about that, I come. And the moment he feels it, he growls into me, which only manages to bring me higher. I wrap the pillow around my face and moan while I writhe and grind up into his face. It goes on, and he continues to lick and taste me, removing some of the pressure so he doesn’t have to stop.
“Let Brax hear you come, sweetheart.”
Fuck! That makes me clench around his fingers, and he chuckles. My body starts to sag, and he gives me one final lick before he pries the pillow away from my face.
“Who knew your evil mouth was capable of something that pleasurable?” I muse, half-dazed.
He grins and kisses me, forcing me to taste myself on him.
“You’re on the pill, right?” he asks, alternating deep plunging kisses and light nips and pecks.
“Why?” I sigh into him, scraping my nails on his scalp, drunk on my post-orgasmic high and the magic of his kisses.
“I don’t have condoms. I saw your pack when your purse spilled. Do you take them?”
Ah. He pulls back, his eyes intense on mine.
“I’ve never…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve never had sex without a condom. Even when I was married, we didn’t. Are you okay if we do that now? I want to feel you… like that.”
He can barely get his words out, and I’ve never seen this side of him. Trembling and unsure, almost overwhelmed.
“Yes, I take them.” I give him a nod, letting him know it’sokay. A shaky breath passes his lungs, and his mouth comes back down on mine as he shifts and wiggles to take off his boxer briefs. This is happening. I’m going to have to have sex with Tristan, and it’s not even hateful, angry sex. I don’t know what this is, and I don’t know where his head is with it. If it’s just sex or just once or just while we’re here. Or if it’s more.
Immediately, I let that last thought go.
It's not more. This is Tristan Ouest we’re talking about. Emotionally unavailable, married to his job, Satan incarnate, Tristan Ouest.
My thighs shift around his hips, and with his forearms on either side of my face and his eyes on mine, he slides all the way inside me with one hard thrust. My eyes roll back in my head, and my breath comes out in a gust.
Oh my hell, that’s good.
As if reading my thoughts, he rasps against my neck, breathing hard, “You feel incredible. Better than anything.” He pulls out and pumps back in, a low groan rattling the air between us as he does. “Fuck yeah, that’s good. No way this is only going to be once. I hope you weren’t thinking this was a one-and-done because I can tell you now, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself now, and I know it’s the same for Brax, and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.”
