Page 26 of Arrogant Boss

He kisses me back. Pulling away, he grins. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, and I’m not leaving until we fuck.” I smile as I slide my hand into his pants and grip his hard erection, tracing my fingers along the veins. My panties are so soaked.

“Lake.” He bites his lip, groaning, and he snaps his eyes shut then opens them.

“My name is Boots to you.”

I yank out his dick, place my mouth on the soft head, and lick. He pushes my hand away, removing his erection from my mouth, and he yanks me down to climb on top of me, using his arms to push himself up.

“How many drinks did you have?” he asks.

“A lot of liquor.” I pause. “I want you to eat my pussy first. Then I want you to come on my tits. And I want to try anal. I’ve never done it.” My tone is husky.

He chuckles. “You really are fucked up.”

“Please, fuck me, I want you inside of me when I come.”

He shakes his head. “You’re too drunk for me to fuck you.”

I grip his dick again, squeezing hard, and he shudders.

“I’m sober enough to be your dirty little slut tonight.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, but you’re making it hard.”

“Don’t. I’m giving you full permission to take advantage of me.”

He removes my hand and strokes my chin. “Go to sleep, and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“You know how to cook?”

He nods.

“Afterward, you’re going to dick me down?”

He kisses my cheek. “You can have all the dick you want, I promise.”

I feel vomit tickling the back of my throat and the urge to puke again grows by the second.

“Okay, get off me before I puke on your pretty face.”

Too late, my vomit comes out on his chest.

“Sorry,” I say, before I pass out.

I wake up and bacon and eggs permeate the air. It finally hits me where I’m at. Last night I came here in the hopes of sleeping with Atlas. I sit up, glance down, and I’m in my bra and panties, so I slept half naked in his bed. With a shrill of excitement rushing through my body, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and my feet hit the cold floor as I stand up. I spot a thick black robe hanging on the corner of the door, and I grab it, wiggling it on. The fabric is soft and fluffy on my bare skin, and the initials ingrained into is A.C. on the left side. I head to the bathroom, glance at myself in the mirror, and I look like a hot ass mess. My hair is a rat’s nest, and my makeup is smeared, so I gaze at the facial products he uses. There is no way I can use his products because it will dry up my skin. I don’t want him to kiss me with stank-ass breath, so I put toothpaste on my index finger, use it as a toothbrush, then I use his brush to comb through my tangles. I still look like the dead, but I look better than what I did.

Nervousness bubbles in my chest as I pad to the kitchen. I perch on the barstool, yawn, stretch my arms, rest them on the counter, then my eyes roam to the stainless-steel fridge with a computer screen displaying a to-do list. The counter tops are gray granite, and the kitchen island has a silver sink. I’ve never seen a kitchen so high-tech. My eyes roam to Atlas’s back as he hovers over the stove. He has no shirt on, and his pajama pants hang low on his hips.

His muscles are defined, and my mouth waters at the sight. My heart catches in my throat as my pulse accelerates. He gives me jitters like I’m on a caffeine binge.

He spins around, grins, and I smile back as we drink each other in. What is he thinking about? He nips his plump bottom lip, then licks it. His gaze drops down to the robe I’m wearing.

“You are wearing my robe, I’m probably not going to wash it ever again.”

I watch as his chest moves up and down as if he’s been on a short run.

I crinkle my nose. “Why?”

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