Page 8 of The Jealous Boss

Deciding to finish making dinner later, I rush upstairs, still rubbing my clit. For one reckless moment, I almost remove my jeans on the stairs—that’s just how horny thinking about Drew being my daddy makes me.

Somehow, though, I manage to wait until I get to the privacy of my room, but it’s a close call. Falling back onto my bed, I pray that Drew decides to go on a long run.

ChapterThree

Drew

Heart pounding,I put on another burst of speed, desperate to outrun my racing thoughts. But two words still repeat on a loop in my mind.

Two words I won’t escape, no matter how fast I run.

Two words that have pushed me over the edge.

Eden Exotics.

Eden Exotics? Seriously?Only a high-end luxury vibrator is worthy of that delicious cunt. Anna deserves only the finest things in life. She checks all the fucking boxes.

And not just mine—most men would consider her a catch. Because she is. She’s effortlessly gorgeous. The kind of natural beauty that doesn’t need cosmetics or photo-editing apps.

I’ve watched men nearly break their necks for a second look at her flawless curves. And those who have dared approach her? Well, I’ve made sure they’ll never make that mistake again.

But Anna isn’t just desirable. She’s kind and quirky and generous and has been a better mother to Elijah than Sarah.She’s also smart as hell. Her talents are frankly wasted being a nanny.

Soon, she’ll graduate with top honors. She’ll have her pick of any doctorate program. And she’s achieved this while acting as a surrogate mother to my son. Asking her to extend her contract would be selfish beyond belief. I can’t.

But I also can’t let her leave. I can’t lose her.

And yet if I don’t do something, Iwilllose her.

Because too soon, Anna won’t be my nanny. She won’t be driving my cars, won’t live in my house under the watch of my cameras. I won’t know her class schedule at her next university. I won’t have access to her phone records, her credit card statements, her location data.I won’t have access to her at all.

Drenched in sweat, I slow to a jog. Taking out my phone, I open the tracking app. Good. Anna’s car is where it belongs—in my garage.

I check the router next. Her phone connected to the Wi-Fi thirty minutes ago. I feel a surge of satisfaction at the realization that I only just barely beat her home.

There’s no chance that she found the package. My safe room is secure. My other brother, Adam, owns a security firm and acted as a consultant when I renovated this house. So the package is safe, but still, I’m curious what she’s been up to while I’ve been gone.

Peeling off my damp shirt, I slow my pace further, giving up any pretense of running as I open the app for the security system. Impatient, I cycle through the camera views.

A partially chopped onion rests on a cutting board in the kitchen, but the room is empty. The living room, dining room, and home theater are deserted as well. But when I toggle over to my favorite camera, I hit the jackpot.

My cock swells. Anna on her bed, on her back, legs spread, eyes closed, wearing nothing but a T-shirt. A golden strand of hair clings to her flushed face, and she bites her plump lower lip as her hand moves between her legs.

This isn’t a scene I should be viewing in public, but I can’t look away. I stand on the beach, transfixed. God, she’s gorgeous. Total perfection.

Her back arches, full breasts straining against her T-shirt, which rides up, revealing the soft swell of her stomach. I lick my lips. She must taste so sweet right now. Ineedto have that lovely pussy pressed against my face. She’s clearly close. Look how fucking wet she is—Christ. Her hand glistens with her juices.

The monster rattles its cage, pissed that Anna might have her first orgasm without me. Because that’s the thing. I’ve watched Anna touch herself oh so very many times, and she always stops just short of completion.

At first, I thought it was a deliberate choice, some kind of masochistic self-denial caused by her religious upbringing. But it’s obvious that my beautiful girlwantsto orgasm. She just for some inexplicable reason… can’t. While I dislike seeing her so frustrated, I do like the idea of her saving that particular first for me—even if she doesn’t realize that’s what she’s doing.

The truth hits me like a ton of bricks—the real reason Anna’s purchase shook me so badly. Fuck. I’m usually so self-aware. How the hell did I miss it? Because, God, it’s soobvious. Yes, the toy is cheap and she deserves better. But there’s a more primal reason for my anger.

Jealousy.

It was one thing to be jealous when I thought there was a chance—however slim—that she’d purchased lingerie to wear for another man. But Anna’s purchase is clearly intended for solo use.

Fuck. Has my obsession with my nanny spun so far out of control that I’m jealous of a goddamn sex toy?

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