Page 12 of Think Outside the Boss

“I don’t think I’m strait-laced anymore.”

“Well, you’re not wearing anything lacy anymore.” He stands at the foot of the bed and pulls me along with him, until I’m lying right by the edge. I watch as he grabs a condom from his back pocket.

“Another rule,” he says, biting through the packet. “Condoms on, always.”

I swallow at the sight of his length, looking painfully hard. He rolls the condom on in a sure movement. A flash of nerves pass through me. He’s big and it’s been a while.

Large hands stroke my inner thighs apart. “I think…”

“What, gorgeous?” His thumb brushes over my clit and I shiver.

“We’ll have to go slow, I think.”

He cups my head in his hands and kisses me deeply, his tongue soft, stroking perfection against mine. My legs relax on their own, the heavy weight of his erection against my thigh. “Slow it is,” he tells me. “Trust me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

The endearment is so much better than strait-laced, soaking through my defenses. “I do.”

“Good.” He grips himself, stroking up and down along the seam between my legs. We both watch as he pushes in, a breath escaping through his clenched teeth. The sweet burn of his intrusion is real. I hiss out a gasp, turning my head to the side.

“Look at me,” he tells me, gripping my legs so they’re flat against his chest.

I do, biting my lip against the feeling of inch after inch filling me up. He goes slow, until the burn of his length morphs into a different kind of fire.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, buried to the hilt. He closes his eyes. “Fuck, you feel good.”

I open my mouth to respond, but my words turn into a gasp as he starts to move. One thrust. Two thrusts. I fist the comforter and try to hold on as he rolls his hips in deep movements.

I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked this deeply before.

“Do you know how good you feel inside me?” I ask him, reaching up to cup one of my breasts in a hand. His hooded eyes trace the movement, a growl falling from his lips as I flick my own nipple.

Give him the best sex of his life, Freddie, I remind myself. Everything about this man demands that others around him rise to his level, and I’m no different.

His hips slam into mine, and I know the training wheels are off now. “Yes,” I moan, arching my back. “Please… give it to me.”

His breath hisses out and then I’m half-lifted off the bed, his hands supporting my hips. I gasp at the intensity of the new angle. He’s so deep, so deep, and I tell him that.

His answering chuckle is dark with pleasure and pride. “So you’ll feel me,” he groans. “So you’ll remember me.”

The idea that I wouldn’t is ridiculous, that this won’t become a glorified memory in my mind. He looks down at me with eyes hooded with pleasure, my ankles on either side of his face.

He’s glorious.

“I can feel every inch of you inside me,” I murmur. “Fuck me just like this, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He speeds up, the muscles in his neck straining. He likes dirty talk, then. He does something with his hips, changes the angle… and oh God. It hits a spot inside of me I didn’t know I had, pleasure rising like a storm through me once again. This is a man who knows his way around a woman’s body.

I’m going to come again.

Closing my eyes, I devolve into a gasping, moaning mess. “Please,” I beg him. “I need you, I need this… I’m so close.”

His hips speed up until he’s hammering into me, the speed too much, the pressure too much. His thumb grazes over my clit and I explode around him.

I’m vaguely aware of moaning, but his voice cuts through all of it.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart, just like that. Just like that.” A growl of pleasure from him and I open my eyes, having to see this. His handsome, masculine features are relaxed in pleasure, hips slamming into me with desperate thrusts. It might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

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