Page 7 of Reckless Boss

*IslandKINGis a match. His pictures don’t give me much, other than he has six pack and some grey sweatpants, but his bio attracts me. I swipe on him and wait to see if he will initiate a conversation or skip straight to a dick-pic like the last two did. This is the most entertainment I have had in an afternoon for ages — I can’t believe I never tried this before. All that rather meet someone in person nonsense, this is like grocery shopping for men.

He does not open with a photo of his junk or a request to see me naked, which is a good start. IslandKING is nice, and I can tell he is smart and probably too shy to talk to girls in real life. He tells me about his work, he is in tech and has his own company. That’s why he can’t use his real name here, he likes to run but not to gym. I respect that, as long as you take care of yourself it doesn’t matter how.

This guy has a sense of humor and has asked me about myself, when I answer he responds, genuinely interested. It’s like he knows me already. We chat for a while, then he says he has to log out to do some work.

I would like to chat again, Lucy, maybe tonight after I am done with work?

I leave him hanging for a while, and only reply later in the evening. It’s not ladylike to chase a man, you want them to come after you. When the house is quiet, and the only sounds are from the security patrolling the house and grounds, I log back in to chat with IslandKING again. There’s this forbidden excitement that goes with talking to a stranger. I like how it feels dangerous but safe all at once.

He never once asks to see pictures, nor does he take the conversation below the belt. It is as if he wants to get to know me, the person, and not just the hot girl with a pretty face. We exchange one or two voice notes, and his deep sexy, manly voice has my imagination going crazy. I wonder what his face looks like, but I am too shy to ask. He was honest about his need for privacy and staying anonymous.

I didn’t use my real name either, I’m not sure there is anyone that wouldn’t recognize my family name and run for the hills, afraid my father would kill them for just talking to me. When the hours pass, and it gets to that time of night when we are tired, silly and our inhibitions lower, we have a different sort of banter.

Do you have a beard? Or clean shaven?

I have a beard, are you clean shaven, Lucy?

I get tingles in my belly when he asks me naughtier questions, and I play along with where he is going.

I wax, it is much smoother ;)

Do you always tan topless? Or only when taking a profile picture?

No one likes tan lines, I tan nude… always.

It’s a little white lie, but I want to sound as sexy as he does. If a man like him was watching, I certainly would sunbathe naked.

I don’t like liars. Lucy, you don’t tan nude.

He must be playing with me, but he is not wrong. My father would have a shit fit if I was lying about being naked, it was just today that I wanted to stir up trouble. It upsets me that he called me a liar, and I make an excuse to end the chat, it is already after two in the morning.

I need my beauty sleep.

Sleep tight Lucy, I hope we can talk again tomorrow.

I hope so too, is what I am thinking when I crawl into the silk sheets on my king-sized bed. IslandKING has my attention, and he infiltrates my dreams. All night, I toss and turn — turned on just by his voice and the texts we exchanged. I imagine having him whisper something dirty in my ear with that husky, deep voice. The thought of that vibration shoots straight to my already wet pussy.

Tucking a throw pillow between my legs, I slide my hand down my satin sleep shorts and touch myself. My eyes close, imagining it is the stranger I have talked with all day bringing me to the very edge of orgasm. His indirect dirty talk was so hot, and in his picture I could see his large strong hands. I slowly slide a finger inside myself, my pussy contracts just at that intrusion. His finger would fill me up more, and I softly rub and put pressure on my clit grinding into the pillow. “Mmm,” I bite back a moan, not wanting anyone in the quiet house to hear me as I fuck my fingers to the mental image of a strange man. I make myself come, more than once, before I eventually relax and fall asleep to dream of the IslandKING.

CHAPTER 4

Salvatore

It was easy to hack the Zagaria security system. I have been in since I arrived here on the island, watching them. I have a special fascination for Lucia, the princess of the family She is a spoiled brat, but my good god is she stunning to look at. She needs a lesson in online security, and better passwords. You would think that someone like her would be more careful.

It took me minutes to access everything she does online, their camera system was like Childs play to get into. The whole Zagaria compound is on full display in my office, a running movie on the giant screens all around me. I keep watching only one character though — Lucia. She is a fascinating little thing, and she is a defiant shit. That will get her in trouble.

I stay up all night watching her sleep, the way she has nothing to occupy her time, my father always said the devil makes work for idle hands. Idle mind and hands, it seems the devil sits on Lucia’s shoulder more often than not.

I listen in to private conversations, and business deals, Benito the moron thinks he has struck a golden agreement with the Russians. Only they are playing the game with me, you cannot trust men like them, you can only pay them more than anyone else. Or offer them something no one else has — like an invisible island in the middle of the ocean.

Raul is screaming again, and it seems that no matter what I do he will not settle down. He is as angry as the ocean around us, wailing and screaming like the wind. I feed him, change him, bathe him — none of it comforts him enough that he will rest. My exhaustion is making me edgy, and I know if I don’t get some sleep soon, I am going to be dancing with complete insanity. Island fever, and lack of sleep, are a deadly concoction.

“Please just take him for a walk, away from me,” I hand the screaming infant to my bodyguard in desperation. “I need a minute.” Just a few seconds of quiet, I actually consider climbing into the closet and shutting it so I can decompress. Instead, I shut the door behind him and sit down at the desk, my eyes scanning the screens until I see Lucia.

She’s arguing with her brother, I have missed most of the fight, but I turn on the sound to hear her storm off yelling at him down the long hallway of their home. With the baby quiet I get lost in imagining what her life is like. Watching, as she changes clothes and goes outside to the pool terrace, I also notice how the men charged with guarding her look at her — it’s inappropriate.

Lucia is online, I can see the feed from her phone on my screen. She’s bored with her social media, and never engages with anyone. She makes the odd outfit selfie but she isn’t drawn to that influencer life. This is new, I watch her face on one screen and the activity on her phone on the other.

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