I wasn’t sure which was worse: the thought that she might be embarrassed for anyone to know she was involved with me, or the fact that she was still worried about what the others would think.
I thought it would be better to be different. Open. It would make it easier to explain, later, when she did become pregnant. But secrecy was what she wanted, and since she was giving up so much in order to help me with this…
It definitely wasn’t easy.
Every time I saw her, all buttoned up in her prim little suits with her gorgeous dark hair tied down into that tight bun, I pictured her how she had been the other night. Naked and bent over my desk, her hair either spilling over her shoulders or clenched in my fist as I had fucked her.
I ran a hand over my hardening dick, then shook my head and tried to push the images from my mind.
I’d just fucked her that one time, and I felt almost like an addict or something.
Needing her in a way that I had never needed a woman before.
It was that knowledge, and that alone, that gave me the control I needed. The day we’d decided on came, though calling it a day wasn’t exactly accurate. Emma already had the key to my personal office door, and I knew she had made a point of arriving far earlier than usual in order to stow a small overnight bag there when no one was around.
She would be spending the next three nights at my condo. That was what we had both decided, to make sure that we got the timing right.
At least, that was the reason that we spoke out loud.
I knew that just one more night with her wouldn’t be enough. Not only that, I was almost hoping that she wouldn’t conceive this time around.
So that I would have an excuse to fuck her again next month.
And maybe the next…
I ordered dinner delivery at the end of the work day, as if I intended to continue doing business well into the night. Of course, no one would question it when I told Emma to stay with me after hours.
Now that she had made me aware of the opinions of the others in the office, it was easy to see what I had been missing earlier. Namely, what they all thought about my working relationship with her. When they thought I wasn’t able to hear them, they whispered about the ‘poor, put-upon mouse’ who was completely under my thumb. Who had no backbone or spirit whatsoever.
What a bunch of bitter shrews.
After everyone was gone, Emma stepped into my office, as we had planned. She was jittery, fidgeting and biting her lip constantly as she waited for me to pack my briefcase. “Come here,” I said softly.
She did without hesitation yet gasped as if surprised when I pulled her into my arms. “Sir, what—”
I gave her an arch look. “Sir?”
“Andrew,” she corrected herself breathlessly, and fuck if I wasn’t tempted to take her here and now. Just like the last time.
But I was going to stick to the plan. “I wanted to make sure you’re not having second thoughts.”
“I-I’m not.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
She lifted her chin. “Then remind me why I’m doing this.”
With a groan, I swooped down and covered her lips with mine. Fuck, it had been too long since I’d tasted her sweetness. Since I’d felt the shy but heated way that her tongue tangled with mine.
I felt more than heard her moan, and her slender arms lifted to circle around my neck. I slid my hand under her suit jacket, down to the back of her skirt, cupping her through the fabric as I rocked against her.
Damn, I wanted her so much.
It had to be hormones. Or pheromones. Whatever it was called.
Mating instinct. Something too primitive to ever be fully controlled by civilization.
Then I heard a low gurgle and broke the kiss.
Emma looked down and giggled. “Was that your stomach or mine?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure.” There was another rumble and again, it was impossible to tell who it had come from. “I think it’s mine. I didn’t take time for lunch today.”
“I know.” She smiled and for the first time, I noticed the tiny dimple in her left cheek. “I had to work through lunch too, because of you.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“I should be more careful of you. I don’t want you skipping meals.”
Some of the light dimmed from her expression. “Yeah. That probably isn’t a good idea, considering what we’re trying to do.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that she was angry at me. About this. But then her face lit up again. “What is for dinner anyway? It sure smells good.”
“You’ll find out once we get to my place.” Though how I would keep from pouncing on her gorgeous body the moment we were though the door, I had no idea. Because as hungry as I was, she still smelled better to me than the food. “Let’s get out of here.”
Fortunately, my condo was a very short drive away from the office. I carried both Emma’s overnight bag as well as the food delivery as we headed inside. It was as much to keep my hands full, so that I would be unable to touch her, as it was to try to help.
But we were both hungry enough that we agreed that the food could not wait. I had ordered several items from a local seafood restaurant. Mostly pasta and fried shrimp. “No oysters?” Emma teased.
“Do you really think we need them?” I paused between bites of my food to grab her slender hand and lift it to my lips.
She shook her head and the soft moan she made sent a jolt of need straight to my cock.
I didn’t want to release her now that I’d touched her, and lightly nibbled on the back of her hand.
She swallowed hard. “Uhm, Andrew? I’m not part of the dinner.”
“Oh, I fully intend to feast on you later, sweetheart.” I still remembered the taste of her on my tongue, of the way that she had climaxed so readily for my mouth. I definitely wanted a repeat performance of that.
She pulled her hand away. Though she was blushing, she also raised her chin slightly. “As long as that means I get to feast on you in return.”
Her eyes widened, as if the bold words had surprised her as they had me. I stared at her mouth, slightly shiny with the rich cream sauce that had been on the pasta, and imagined those pretty lips wrapped around my cock as I gave her an entirely different kind of cream.
“Keep looking at me like that,” I said softly. Shifting slightly to try to take some of the pressure off my cock, where it was pressed against the confines of my trousers and boxers. “And you won’t have time to finish your dinner before I attack you.”
“Attack me?” Damn, if she didn’t sound breathless again. “That isn’t exactly what I would call it. And anyway, I’m not afraid of you.”
No. No, she wasn’t. She had already proven that the other night, when I’d bound her wrists with my tie and had my wicked way with her. I was eager to see what other surprises I might find in her, as well as to know just how far she would submit…
I did have just enough control to let her finish her meal and to put away the leftovers for later.
Then I grabbed Emma and tossed her over my shoulder, her surprised giggles and the way she squirmed just as intoxicating as everything else about her. I smacked her ass with the flat of my palm.
Once, just because I could.
A second time, because I liked the way her soft, rounded flesh had felt under my hand.
I didn’t need a reason for the third
Her giggles melted into moans and her squirming became a more purposeful movement of her hips.
We were in my bathroom and I was tempted to set her on the counter, push up her skirt, and thrust into her. I had been hard for her for so long. Yet a part of me still wanted to savor her too.
This was one time when we didn’t need to rush.
I set her down on the counter anyway and stepped back. Turned on the water in the shower.
Emma tilted her head to one side, her lips playing up in
a slight smile as her eyes gleamed. “Are you trying to say that I stink, Andrew?”
I laughed. “No.” I had already discarded my tie during the drive to my apartment and now began unbuttoning my shirt. “But this gives me a good excuse to touch you. Everywhere.”
“You don’t need an excuse for that.” Her cheeks turned that lovely shade of pink and she bit her lip. Ducking her head, she stared down at her hands as she began to work on the buttons of her blouse.
This wasn’t the first time she had appeared to be embarrassed by the fact that she wanted me.
I couldn’t understand it.
Or did I?
In a way, this thing between us… didn’t feel like it was something that could completely be controlled. Confined to what we had chosen to define it as.
Maybe she was feeling as out-of-control as I was.
I slide one hand under her chin and lifted her head. Leaned in to kiss her, knowing that was the best way for us to forget everything else for a moment.
Knowing that words and thoughts and worries would no longer matter, as soon as our lips touched…
Our tongues tangled and danced. I reached for her blouse, which was mostly undone, and pushed it off her slender shoulders. Needing to feel as much of her soft skin, as quickly as possible.
Broke the kiss so I could look at her.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling in a particularly delicious way. Their curves barely held in place by a lacy bra. The fabric of which was so thin, it did little to conceal the color of her skin.
Or the way that her nipples were hard.
Definitely different from the practical garment she’d been wearing the last time. Was she wearing this for me?
“I like this,” I said softly, running my finger between her breasts. To my surprise, there was a clasp at the front, and I released it easily. With barely a tug, it came apart. Giving me the access I craved. “Especially this part.”
Without waiting for an answer—and not wanting her to have a chance to be embarrassed again—I dipped my head and immediately took her into my mouth. Ran my tongue around the tight tip of her nipple, then sucked on her.
Emma cried out and her hands were in my hair.
Holding. Just holding.
My hands were much busier. Working on my belt and zipper, shoving my pants and boxers down to the floor. I swirled my tongue around her nipple again before I released her, then reached for her skirt.
And found another surprise. Her panties appeared to be made of the same lace as her bra. Barely more than a scrap of material.
A thong.
I growled and tore it from her. The delicate fabric easily giving way. I dropped to one knee, taking a taste of her juices. I could not deny myself the one slide of my tongue over her pussy, even though I had other plans.
Steam filled the room, covering everything in a heavy haze. The water in the shower definitely was hot enough now.
I picked Emma up once again, this time cradling her against my chest as I carried her into the enclosed space.
Shuddered when the hot water hit my body from several angles, and she squealed.
“Too hot?” I asked.
She shook her head.
I let her body slide down mine as I set her on her feet. Reluctantly separating from her for just a moment, I grabbed the bar of soap from its holder and lathered up my hands.
Then I began to slide them over her. Using the suds as a way to glide more smoothly over her skin, the act of washing nothing but a flimsy excuse to thoroughly run my hands over every part of her body.
Her breasts. Her waist and hips. Her pretty little ass.
I reached for the soap a second time, adding more suds before I moved one of my hands between her legs. I already knew that she had been wet for me. That I didn’t really need the extra lubrication here.
She gasped, the enticing sound just barely audible over the rushing water and grabbed my wrist. Drawing my hand away from her pussy. “Wait.”
I raised a brow. “I thought you wanted me to touch you.”
“I do.” Her lips trembled into an uncertain smile. “But not yet.”
“Oh?”
“I want to touch you first. I didn’t get to do that the last time” She stepped around me, grabbing the bar of soap and lathering up her hands. “And it seems only right that I really get to know the body of the man who’s going to get me pregnant.”
Chapter Seven (Emma)
Andrew fell silent and I bit my lip, wondering if I’d said too much.
Again.
But it was the truth. I did want to get to know him, as much as he would let me. I had made sure to mention his body, so that he would assume I meant it in the purely physical sense, yet something about his expression made me think he suspected there was more.
Did he not want me to know him? That seemed almost silly after I had been working for him all these years, but then again, that was the public side.
The private side, I was finding, was completely different.
For one thing, I’d rarely heard him laugh at work. I could count on hand—maybe even just a few fingers—the number of times that he’d even smiled.
And I liked making him happy.
Maybe I liked it a little too much.
I dropped my gaze from his. My hair was mostly plastered against my head thanks to the water and steam of the shower and I couldn’t hide behind it now. Instead, I simply kept my head down, focusing on what was directly in front of me.
His chest.
Bubbles formed beneath my fingers as I lightly ran them over his skin. There was something almost innocent about doing this for him.
Of course, all I needed to do was look a bit down further, and all sense of innocence disappeared.
Even over the noise of the running water pouring down from the multiple shower heads, I thought I heard his sharp intake of breath. I felt it and saw it, in the way the defined muscles of his flat stomach contracted. The subtle movements quickening and becoming more obvious, as I traced the thin line of hair that marked the trail to his cock.
It stood thick and hard, curving slightly toward his stomach. I ran my soapy fingers in circles around that area. Concentrating on his hips and even his upper thighs.
Not because I was afraid of it. Or of him.
No.
Because the way he panted, the way that his shaft throbbed and swelled in response to every sweeping touch I made, sent surges of desire racing through my body.
It was a heady sensation.
Exploring him like this felt almost like an indulgence.
Making me feel like I was his lover rather than just the means to an end.
I paused to gather more lather from the soap bar onto my hands, then slid my fingers around the base of his thick shaft. Andrew let out a low groan and thrust his hips forward.
My pussy grew wetter, the inside of me now as drenched as the outside. He was so large, I really needed both hands in order to get a good grip, and my breathing grew shorter and quicker as I remembered what it was like to have all of that hard cock inside me.
Stretching me in a way I had never been before.
I stroked him up and down, coating his cock in the lather from my hands. Squeezing him on every upstroke.
Then I let him go.
Held my hands in the nearest stream and rinsed the last of the soap from them. Andrew was standing directly in the path of one of them anyway, so he was rinsing at the same time that I was.
I cupped my hands together, gathering water to speed up the process.
Removed every last bit of soap that I could see. From his thighs. From his hips.
From his cock.
Then I closed both hands around the base of his cock again, holding him in place as I adjusted my position. My stomach fluttered more than a little as I opened my mouth.
I licked him first, exploring him as much with my tongue as I had done with my hands. Lea
rning the way the veins ran down the sides, feeling the different textures and tastes.
All of him.
Then I focused on the rounded head, on the little slit where a drop of his pre-come sat, almost as if in defiance of the water that was splashing down all around him. I flicked my tongue over that spot, taking my first taste.
It wasn’t enough, of course. There seemed to be nothing that I experienced with him that was so easily sated.
A part of me wanted to blame hormones.
Though I’d never really paid much attention to my cycles before, I had done enough research online since Andrew had made his proposition, to know that my body should be undergoing changes at this time, following a natural and biological need to procreate.
That included an increase of desire.
I did not think it could be wholly attributed to that. I had already acknowledged in myself the feelings and the physical attraction that I’d had for my boss. I think a part of me had hoped that by giving in—by no longer having to hold back for this short time—I would finally get over him.
So that I could move on, just as I knew that Andrew would, as soon as I did get pregnant.
I would not physically be able to do the same, of course. Not while carrying his child. But that would be only the flimsiest of excuses.
Because I knew now that getting over him wouldn’t be so easy.
I wasn’t entirely certain that I would be able to go back to working for him, as normal, once this phase of our… relationship was over.
I had already seen how difficult it had been to pretend that we were not intimate, as we’d waited for this night. I didn’t know how hard he found it, but I could easily say that I’d had trouble even looking at him when the others were around. Certain that what I felt and what I had experienced in his arms would be reflected in my expression.
This would be another thing that I would never be able to forget.
The feel of his thick cock sliding between my lips. The way it rested inside my mouth as I struggled not to scrape him with my teeth and the straining of my jaws due to the same, even as the heavy pulsing of his shaft could be felt on my tongue.
A little intimidating?
Yes.
But at the same time, it was incredibly arousing too.
A Baby for the Beastly Boss Page 4