Mr. CEO: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 160)

by Flora Ferrari

  He grabs my shoulders in his firm hands and pulls me into his lap. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be handled as though I weigh nothing, and now I know. He guides me onto his lap and something just lets loose inside of me, my shyness receding into the background for a few minutes…even if it doesn’t disappear entirely.

  He opens his mouth and I feel the rough warmth of his lips. His tongue finds mine, guiding me, nerve endings buzzing and captivating my face as though a mask of irresistible heat has been placed over me.

  He palms my breasts, pushing them together. A sudden note of uncertainty runs through me…surely he’s not going to like what he finds. But he growls deeply and leans back, staring at my breasts in my shirt, exploring them and massaging them.

  “Fuck,” he growls. I feel his manhood through his pants, a solid metal rod pushing into my skirt. “I need to feel those without your shirt in the way. I need to suck your nipples, Scarlett, and watch them turn pink. I need to feel your body shiver as I slide my cock inside of your wet hole. Do you understand? Tell me you need it.”

  “I need it,” I moan, my sex tingling with star-like radiation, a thousand kissing points thrumming up and down my lips. He grinds against me, pushing up so that his manhood finds the private area in my pantyhose, grazing gorgeously against my panties. “But—but—”

  “What?” he growls, sliding his hand up my thigh toward my sex. I lean back slightly, giving him a better angle to reach my needy clit. “You don’t have to be shy with me, Scarlett. You’re going to take my seed. My child is going to grow in your belly. If this was as little as three hundred years ago, there would be nothing strange about me claiming you, like I am claiming you. You’re mine. So don’t be scared to tell me anything.”

  “I want to do this,” I whisper. “But I’m just so nervous, Santiago. That’s the truth.”

  “Why?” he says, pausing his hand on my thigh.

  He looks at me plainly, in a way nobody ever has before. All my life, I’ve been waiting for somebody to understand me, or at least to take the time to try and understand me. As he looks at me, I feel like I’ve finally found it.

  And now I’m going to have to ruin it all.

  “I’m not what you think I am,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Santiago, I’m so sorry. But I’m a virgin.”

  He leans back, staring at me with his characteristic unreadable expression. I feel his hand loosening on my leg, as though now that he knows the truth, he wants nothing else to do with me.

  Part of me regrets telling him already. But he’s right. I value the truth above everything else.

  I guess it’s ironic, then, that I didn’t know this was too good to be true.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Santiago

  Scarlett slides off my lap and retreats to the other side of the couch. The emotions that ricochets between her features is complete embarrassment and shame, as though she thinks her being a virgin is going to make me want to leave. But I can’t speak, not right away, to tell her otherwise.

  “A virgin…” The words come out slowly. My voice is trembling.

  “Y-yes,” she stutters, which she did before, earlier today. Earlier today. The phrase seems absurd. I feel like I’ve known this woman my entire life. “I know it’s not what you hoped for. I guess I should have told you before we started kissing, but I just got carried away.”

  I stare at her flushed red lips, and that redness just makes me think of another, of the crimson prize I’ll win when I plunge my fleshy sword between her thighs. I want to feel it, the precise moment when the engorged head of my manhood pushes firmly against her blood-giving point of release, the symbol of Scarlett offering herself to me.

  She folds her arms, causing her breasts to shift around. This woman has countless ways to tempt me.

  “So I guess you’ll be going now,” she murmurs.

  “Going?” I snarl.

  “Well.” She interlaces her fingers, squeezing and pressing, anxiety fidgeting through her. “I guess you came here for some sort of booty-call, right? And now you know I’m not a virgin—”

  I leap across the couch like a jaguar emerging from its hiding spot, wrapping my arms around her and dragging her inexorably into my lap. I clamp my hand down on her thigh, feeling her skin prickle even through the pantyhose. I drive my hand up toward her sex.

  “You think that makes me want you less?” I roar, kissing her in a fight of passion.

  Our teeth click, the wanting is so strong on both sides. I break it off, nibbling her neck, sensing the tremors that move through her.

  “Knowing that I’m going to be the first to claim you – the only one to ever touch you – just drives me crazier, Scarlett. The first moment I saw you, I knew I wanted my seed to find a home in your belly the first time I take you. Now, you’re going to get pregnant on your first time, period.”

  “I want that,” she whispers. “But what if I don’t?”

  “You will,” I assure her. “I can feel how badly your body wants to bear my child.”

  “Are you serious?” she sasses, smiling. “You really think you know my body that well, huh?”

  “I think I know your body better than you,” I tell her. “For example, you’ve never orgasmed before.”

  She gaps at me, but the corners of her lips twist up into a smile. “How the heck did you know that?”

  I grind my hand with more force against her leg, feeling the answering shivers in her movements. “Because I can feel you, Scarlett. I can feel how badly you want this.”

  “But only with you,” she sighs, gripping onto my shoulders. “I don’t just want sex in general. I’m not a slut.”

  “A slut?” I laugh grimly, inching ever closer to the sacred hole I would kill a thousand men just to taste. “You don’t need to use words like that with me. When it’s just us, Scarlett, you can be anything you want … when we’re alone. I’m claiming you, but I also want to help you develop. I want to be your rock.”

  “I want that,” she gasps, wiggling all needy against my hand. “You don’t have any idea how badly.”

  I finally stop my hand at her sex, pushing so that I can feel her lips pushing through her clothes, the thick folds that will be the best for pushing a baby out…but not before I’ve plunged something in, over and over, watching as her thick white cream mixes with my precome.

  “Jesus, you’re making me crazy and I haven’t even seen you without your clothes off yet. I keep thinking about taking it from you.”

  “My virginity?”

  “Yes. You’ve been keeping it for me all these years without even knowing it.”

  “I’m glad,” she whispers. “Oh, oh, do you think you can keep touching me like that?”

  I grin like the unleashed wolf I am. “So polite,” I growl. “But I can do better than that.”

  “What do you mean—Ah! Oh!”

  I jump from the couch and lay her on her back, tearing a hole in her pantyhose to expose the pink fabric of her underwear. She moans, nodding, biting her lip as she stares at me with wide eyes.

  “I’m going to taste your untouched pussy,” I growl. “It’s a preview, Scarlett, of the pleasure you’ll feel when I push myself inside of you and shatter your innocence all over me. Tell me you want it.”

  “I do want it, badly,” she cries, opening her legs for me. “I want to feel you so freaking badly. But…”

  “But what?” I’m on my knees, my hands braced on the accommodating flesh of her shapely thighs. Her panties are winking pinkly at me through the hole in her pantyhose. “Tell me, Scarlett. Remember…no lies.”

  “I might be too…you know…well, I’m not exactly the skinniest girl in the world.”

  For a moment, I’m not even sure what she means. Then it hits me.

  Is it possible that she thinks her curves, her plus-size voluptuousness, are bad things? Does she really think that not starving herself and letting her body fill its natural proportions will turn me off?

  “Scarlett
,” I tell her. “You’re perfect just the way you are. Your curves tell me you’ll know how to care for our child, that you’ll take care of yourself during pregnancy. Your breasts, your big beautiful breasts…they’re perfect for so many things. Fucking with my throbbing cock, feeding our first child, driving a man wild with a well-placed coffee stain…”

  “Hey,” she sasses. “That was an accident. But do you really mean it?”

  “Of course I do,” I growl. “The truth, remember?”

  “Okay. Then, I have a truth I’d like to say.”

  “What?”

  She bats her eyes, all cute embarrassment, and then whispers, “I want you to taste me, Santiago.”

  I drag her toward me so that her panties are pressed up right against my mouth. Clutching them in my teeth, I tear them with one violent snap of my head, pulling them away from her sex.

  And then, for a stunned few moments, I just stare as a sense of awe and wonder trickles through my body. Her pussy is glistening and pink, the hole winking at me. Her lips are large…all the better for me to play with.

  “I’ve never seen a more appetizing meal in my whole damn life,” I tell her. “And I only dine at the finest restaurants.”

  I bring my mouth to her and open it as wide as I can, tasting as much of her as possible. She arches her back and lets out a musical moan, pulsating against my mouth. I push harder against her tanginess, guiding my tongue to the hardened nub of her clit, tight with her long-withheld anticipation.

  I can feel her body priming itself for me, her womb thrumming as it gets her eggs ready to take my seed, to take what’s mine…and create something that’s ours.

  “Oh, God…how are you doing…that…”

  I want to slip my tongue inside of her so I can taste her for real, but I’m saving that for my cock, when I’ll sheath myself to my balls and feel every soaking wet inch of her insides clutching onto me for dear life.

  She moves her hand down, clutching the back of my head. But then she snatches it away. “I’m sorry…”

  I get it. She thinks she’s being presumptuous. With a savage, throaty laugh, I grab her hand and press it to the back of my head. “Push me hard,” I tell her. “I want to feel every ounce of your creamy juices all over my lips.”

  I attack her clit with my tongue and lips, sucking and licking so fast she starts to buck and moan and cry out in ecstasy.

  Then, for a moment, everything stops. I can feel the tiny muscles in her legs and throughout her body trembling, gathering their energy.

  “I’m—going—to—”

  She turns her head and bites into the cushion, her fingernails clawing onto the back of my leg as her orgasm unleashes a torrent of squirting pleasure onto my tongue. I take all of her, opening my mouth wide and swallowing, getting my body used to the feeling of her body. It will make my instincts keener to impregnate her, knowing how sweet and luscious her insides are.

  She finally lets go of the cushion. “Jesus,” she whispers. “Oh, fricking hell, Santiago, that was…”

  I sit back. “Just the beginning,” I finish for her.

  “I can’t believe how…how heavenly that felt,” she whispers, sitting up. She giggles. “Is that kinda silly?”

  “No.” I sit down next to her, wrapping her in my arms, pulling her close. “It’s fitting, since you’re an angel.”

  “I feel sort of guilty, though, for not helping you.”

  I turn to her. “Don’t worry,” I growl. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she whispers.

  “I’m going to give you the greatest night of your entire life.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Scarlett

  After my first day at the office, which basically just involves writing the copy nobody else wants to deal with, I head out to the lobby to head home. I feel a surge of uncertainty when I think about last night, about the way my body opened up to new sensations and feelings I’ve never even hinted at before.

  All day today, I was waiting for Santiago to make an appearance. But he never showed. And I guess it’s silly, because he’s Mr. CEO and I’m just a lowly copywriter, to expect him to come and visit me personally.

  But a dark thought takes hold in my mind. What if last night was a trick, the same way I was tricked before? The aftershocks of that horrible event have always clung to me like a wet towel…only this towel is wet with gasoline, not water, and one day I’m terrified somebody’s going to set it on fire again.

  When I’m about to leave the building, a man in a suit approaches me, peering at me through thick sunglasses. It takes me a moment to recognize that it’s the same man from before. I recognize his curly black hair and the golden, inscribed wedding ring on his hand.

  “Ma’am,” he says. “Mr. Sasso would like you to join him this evening, if it’s convenient.”

  If it’s convenient? As if I’m going to say no. I’ve been dreaming of reuniting with him ever since he left my apartment last night.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, as we walk into the parking lot.

  “To your new apartment,” the man says, striding over to a limousine and holding the door open for me. “Mr. Sasso said you might find it unusual, so he took the liberty of recording this short message.”

  He takes a phone from his suit jacket pocket and clicks play on a video. I watch as Santiago leans his impressive forearms on the desk in his office, staring at the camera with those eyes that were made to undress me. “Scarlett, I’m tired of you living in that rundown shithole. You deserve better. So go with my man, here, and take your place in an apartment fit for the princess you are.”

  I climb into the car, sitting back as the limousine glides through the city. Insecurity drapes over me like a blanket, clinging. I wish I could just throw it away and believe, with all my heart, that this is really happening. But I’ve still got those vestiges of uncertainty bouncing around my head.

  When I walk into the lobby, though, with its tall marble pillars and sleek exclusive elevator, I feel some of that scorching away. I can’t help but gasp when I walk into the penthouse apartment, strolling into the kitchen and staring in wonder at the tall metal fridge, the kitchen island which is, no joke, almost as big as my old living room.

  “Is this really mine?” I gasp aloud.

  “It’s only what you deserve.”

  I turn at Santiago’s growling voice. He stalks into the kitchen like a predator emerging from the undergrowth. His salt and pepper hair is swept back and his sleeves are rolled up, those taut forearms causing swirls of desire to sweep through me.

  “You better get dressed,” he commands. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “Late for what?” I ask.

  He moves closer, stopping when he’s bare inches from me. Every part of him trembles like a volcano about to erupt. When I glance down, I see that the solid outline of his manhood is pulsing suggestively like a twitching sword ready to leap from its sheath. He must be so hard, the blood pumping furiously through his fleshy length, his seed aching to be inside of me. My womb quivers and sends surging electricity through me, begging me to take his seed, take it now…

  Before it’s too late. Before he tells me this is all a twisted game.

  “For dinner,” he says, taking a step back. “I’m going to wine and dine you like a lady, Scarlett. And then afterward, it’ll be time for the sweetest dessert either of us has ever tasted.”

  He takes me by the hand, his fingers sending further jolts of steaming want around my body, and leads me to the bedroom. Then he steps back at the door, nodding inside.

  “Your clothes are on the bed,” he growls. “But if I go in there with you, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

  I hurry inside to find a sparking red dress laid out on the bed, with red heels and flats at the side. There is also a pearl necklace and red lingerie with frilly trim. Santiago has left a note on the panties, written in his neat, almost poetic script. You can choose your shoes, my queen, whatever is most comfortable. Everyt
hing else, though, is compulsory.

  I bite my lip, staring down at the clothes, wondering if he realizes how they’ll look on me. I know he said he likes my figure, but this dress is not the sort of thing I usually wear. But my desire to please him swells inside of me, and I quickly slip into the clothes. After tussling my hair in that way he likes, I emerge from the bedroom, wondering if he’s going to laugh or suggest a change of outfit.

  But when he sees me, he clenches his teeth and balls his hands into tight fists. His eyes roam over the way the dress clings to my body, in all those places I’d usually be self-conscious about. But, standing under Santiago’s gaze, I can’t help but feel so womanly. It’s like I’m his war-prize. Like he’s just gotten back from a battle and now he’s going to claim me.

  Oh, how I want to be claimed by my Mr. CEO.

  “We better leave, soon,” he barks. “Right fucking now.”

  “Why?” I giggle, a surge of confidence infusing me. I turn slightly, lifting the dress seductively up my thigh. I feel silly and yet it’s worth it, to see the way lust grips his jaws like a vice. “Scared you won’t be able to help yourself, huh?”

  He nods seriously. “That’s an understatement.”

  Suddenly, he moves forward, a lion approaching his lioness. He grips my thigh and pushes me up against the wall. His hand is firm, so achingly close to my sex I feel the wetness blooming like a bursting ball of soaked fire.

  “Seeing you like this,” he snarls. “It makes me want to build you a fucking empire. It makes me want to make more billions, to conquer the whole world for you. If this was a different time, Scarlett, I’d become a warlord to secure your kingdom. You’re gorgeous thick legs, Jesus Christ, they drive me insane.”

  “Thick legs,” I whisper. “I’m pretty sure most people like thin legs.”

  “Most people are fools,” he snarls, squeezing hard, palming his hand up my thigh. He pauses near my sex. “There’s so much for me to explore. Your curvaceous thighs are like uncharted territories for me. I want to explore every single inch, with my teeth, with my hands…with my cock. I want to paint your thighs in my precome, teasing the offspring in my seed with the closeness to your sex, and then, and only then…”