The Boss's Son Box Set

by Sierra Rose

  “You’re terrible! That ego! No, I just get hungry because it’s—”

  “Mid-afternoon?”

  “It’s lunchtime at home.”

  “Sure, right. It was my incredible prowess that depleted all your reserves of energy. I’d suggest carb-loading like athletes do before a major event. We don’t want you fainting from ecstasy later.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” she said.

  “Oh, you know I’m not being conceited. It’s only the plain truth of the matter.”

  “I hate to admit it, especially with your massive ego, but you are, in fact, exactly that amazing in bed.”

  “I must be if you mistook that balcony chair for a bed.”

  “I wasn’t concerned with the surface we happened to be using.”

  “Further proof of my superiority.”

  “Indeed,” she acknowledged with a smile. “I do declare you to be quite as good on a chair outdoors as you are in a more comfortable and conducive location. That’s quite a stellar recommendation and I suggest you add it to the list of accomplishments on your resume immediately.”

  “I don’t have a resume. I have a corporation,” he said.

  “How nice for you!” she teased. “I still have a resume so you must forgive my peasant mindset, thinking of such details. Speaking of details, it’s your birthday. I have to get you a present! What would you like? A piñata? A nice plate of clams that won’t make you ill?”

  “Hmm...let me think. There must be a nice lingerie store somewhere in Madrid. There’s nothing I would rather have for my birthday than you. Wrapped up in a pretty package or wrapped in nothing whatsoever.”

  “So for your birthday, I get to go shopping and buy pretty lingerie?”

  “Absolutely. Only I’m buying.”

  “Blasphemy. You can’t pay for your own gift.”

  “Certainly I can. I intend to take you to a shop a bit more....luxurious than what you’re accustomed to and I wouldn’t want our fun inhibited by your reaction when you see the price tags. Trust me, this is a treat for me and it’ll be much more enjoyable for us both if you haven’t any concern over the cost of the articles we choose.”

  “Hey, I’ve bought a matching bra and pantie set from Victoria’s Secret, I’ll have you know. Those things are not cheap,” she said.

  “I’m sure they aren’t, relatively speaking. I have an eye toward something from Agent Provacateur and their prices list a bit north of those.”

  “If you insist,” she said grudgingly. “But first I want to eat something.”

  “Call room service if you like. I’m going to have a true siesta just now, to recharge my batteries so I’ll be perfectly virile for your enjoyment later.”

  “I didn’t realize that virile studs like yourself required a nap. I thought that was more for old men,” she teased him and he flexed a bicep for her to admire.

  “Is this the body of an elderly gent?” he challenged playfully.

  “No, certainly it isn’t,” she assured him.

  “Even my dad has—” He stopped, shaking his head. “He had. Shit. I forgot for a few minutes there.” Jack rubbed a hand across his eyes as if to clear his vision after a long sleep.

  Britt went to him and hugged him, tears welling in her eyes with sympathy for him. How dreadful it must be to lose track of your grief for the space of a few minutes only to have the recollection of such a terrible loss crash in on you like a fresh tragedy! She imagined he must feel guilty, ashamed of being so happy that he was able to forget for a moment as if he had relaxed his vigil, had dishonored his father’s memory by not keeping watch in his bereavement and thinking on it without ceasing. She kissed his cheek and held onto him all the more tightly.

  “Don’t feel bad about this. He wanted you to be happy, Jack. He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up if you were able to focus on something else just for a minute.”

  “I know. But it feels like a betrayal, like I’m forgetting, like I’m letting him go.”

  “You won’t ever forget, but you have to let go a little bit at a time. All you’re doing is torturing yourself otherwise. Don’t let go of the memory and how important he’ll always be to you, I don’t mean that. What I mean is, let yourself live your life without feeling bad for doing that.”

  “So you are wise in the ways of the heart as well as fantastic in bed,” he said.

  “Yes. It’s not conceit if it’s true, I’ve been told by an expert,” she said with a gentle laugh. “I love you and I will help you.”

  “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  “I’m here. Anything you need,” she said, nestling her head against his shoulder and standing there, letting him hold her until he felt equal to standing on his own.

  “I knew he was sick. I knew he was supposed to slow down but I just took for granted that he’d get better like he always did. He was this larger than life figure and I thought he was invincible, I guess. I just—I know I’ve told you all this before, I just keep going over it in my head, wondering, like, how did his death throw me for such a loop when I must’ve realized he was eventually going to and that he had these health problems and...why was it such a shock?”

  “Because you knew it intellectually, like we all do about being mortal and how it could happen any time, we could just step off the curb at the wrong instant and boom. Game over. But we can’t live life worrying about that so we sort of put that out of our minds and assume that we have tomorrow guaranteed when we really never have that promise. We have to believe everything will be okay just to function at all and then when it isn’t okay, when something tragic happens, we’re just left reeling by it. I get it. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now but you should never ever blame yourself for not being prepared. I mean, what does that even mean? Like we’re supposed to be ready all the time to lose someone we love?” she said, sniffing and wiping at her tears. “I know, I know I’ll never be ready to lose you!”

  “You never will. You have me. We also get the best thing of all, which is whatever time we have, we can spend it together.”

  Britt burrowed in his arms as he held her, a tear running down her face. When she finally calmed down, wiping her puffy eyes, she shook her head.

  “How come you wound up comforting me? I was supposed to be supporting you,” she said.

  “Because that’s how we work, kid. We’re here for each other. Are you ready to agree to the roof garden yet? It is my birthday.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I don’t want to waste another minute. I want to move in together when we get back home.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” she said decisively.

  Jack gave a whoop and spun her around joyously.

  “First, lingerie shopping. Then tomorrow we’ll fly home and shop for a place together. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she said. “Although how come it’s your birthday and I seem to get all the presents?”

  “Because that’s how I like it. I have everything I need. I like to spoil you a little when you’ll let me,” he said, kissing her soundly on the lips for emphasis.

  “Hold me,” she said.

  “I’m never going to let you go.”

  Suddenly she wasn’t hungry any more than he was sleepy. It was just imperative that they be in one another’s arms right then, after such an emotional moment together. Together, they walked hand-in-hand to the bed and lay down face to face and held each other. Britt stroked his face, memorizing the line of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, awed by the fact that he was looking at her that way. He kissed her forehead and pulled her into his chest and held her. After a while, she felt her breathing sync up with his as she listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Feeling completely enmeshed with him, she drifted off to sleep for that proper siesta he’d spoken of earlier.

  When they woke up, almost at the same moment, Jack kissed her.

  “Now let’s go get my birthday present. I want to pick out something with yo
u and then unwrap you,” he said excitedly.

  They rode to the Madrid outpost of Agent Provacateur as Jack had specified. Within minutes, Britt was shaking her head, blushing at the tasseled pasties and garter belts on the mannequins and something called a playsuit that seemed to be nothing more than vicious bits of diagonal string arranged around one’s bare breasts and backside. She was ready to slink out of there, but Jack held fast to her hand, probably because he was wise enough to know she’d try to bolt. Further into the shop there were reassuringly sumptuous racks of silk robes and pajamas and nice normal pretty things that didn’t make her panic about her cellulite or sheer embarrassment in general.

  Jack suggested a few things, a very straightforward saleslady selected a few more, judging no doubt that Britt was trying gamely to participate but had no desire to put tassels on her nipples for any reason. Into the fitting room they went and Jack sat by patiently as the saleswoman helped Britt try on several different combinations. They seemed to come from a collection dubbed once in a lifetime lingerie and Britt, glimpsing the price tag of a lace corset that cost 1600 euros, could well understand why once in a lifetime was the only time anyone could pay such an exorbitant cost. But when she tried on that same golden lace corset, she came to understand the structure and detail of such a garment. It cinched in her waist. It lifted her breasts to the most pleasing cleavage she’d ever achieved. It didn’t pinch. It didn’t itch. It was as comfortable as it was becoming. She kept glancing at herself in the mirror, a foolish grin on her face. She felt like a pin up! She even put on the thigh high stockings without argument and found that when she faced the mirror, her reflection showed a better, more beautiful, more seductive version of herself staring mysteriously back at her.

  Jack, sitting behind her on a cushioned bench, caught her eye in the mirror and winked. She nodded and he instructed the saleswoman to ring up the purchase. He stepped toward Britt and she turned away from the mirror in time for him to capture her in his arms and kiss her fully, voluptuously, his hands warm on her stomach and side through the lace. She broke away and shooed him out so she could remove the articles and get dressed. Still, they sped back to their hotel in record time to try out Jack’s birthday gift.

  Britt slipped into the bathroom with her shopping bag and wriggled into the corset and stockings. She silently thanked the saleswoman for cinching the laces to fit her so she could just hook up the front of the corset easily and get the perfect fit. She stood before the mirror, marveling at how flattering the soft gold hue of the lace was against her skin, how saucy the tiny red bows on the garters seemed. She bit her lip and then reached into her makeup bag. She rimmed her eyes with black liner, painted her lips with scarlet lipstick. She met her own gaze with a smolder, stepped in to her stilettos and then went out to meet him.

  Jack lounged on the bed, his clothes in a pile on the floor, and she paused to wonder if the expensive lingerie she wore could possibly aspire to be as attractive as Jack’s bare body. She felt her flesh respond to the mere sight of him, her breath quickening, her heart speeding up. She walked toward him, conscious of her curves, the length of her legs, and she placed her stilettos just so, moving fluidly, slowly, as part of the seduction. She stopped directly in front of him and looked down into his face.

  “Do you like your present?” she practically purred.

  “Very much. Yes,” he said a little breathlessly.

  “Would you like to unwrap me?”

  Jack answered her with his hands. He turned her around slowly, admiring her body, and the French lace that adorned it. He slid his hands lightly down her sides, across her back and over her bottom. He caught the satin ribbon in his hands and she felt the tug as he untied the bow and worked her laces apart, opening the corset so his hands could touch her bare flesh. Shivering at the first brush of his fingertips along her back, she helped him remove the corset. She unhooked the garters and pushed the corset down, leaving her in soft gold silk stockings and high pointed stilettos. She turned to face him and he sat with her breasts at his eye level, his hands coming up to encompass them, to stroke them. He set his mouth on her stomach and she ran her hands through his hair expectantly. His hands cupped her bare bottom and slid down the sheer silken fabric of her stockings.

  He drew her up until she knelt on the bed, her knees on either side of him. He reached between her legs, stroking in the most tantalizing way until she was panting. Then he rolled her onto the bed. Turning her on her hands and knees, he knelt behind her and took her. Her pants became moans as Jack stroked in and out of her at an increasingly frantic pace. He held her hips and pumped into her while she dropped her face into the pillow and screamed, a keening sound long and sudden as she came. Shuddering, her arms too shaky to support her, Britt was powerless even to catch her breath as he kept pounding into her, sending streaks of shocking pleasure up her body in waves until he reached his completion.

  Together they rolled onto the bed and he pulled her back against him, his body curving around hers. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

  “Thank you for my birthday gift,” he said mischievously.

  “You’re more than welcome,” Britt replied, even her voice shaky from her release.

  She pressed her lips to his, her eyes dropping shut, and he kissed her so softly, so tenderly that she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

  Chapter 16

  Reluctantly, they flew back to the States, their romantic getaway at an end. From the private airfield, they took a car to Britt’s apartment.

  “Do me a favor and pack a bag so you can stay over with me. I can’t actually drop you off because I’d miss you too much.”

  “I’m going to work tomorrow. It’s not like we aren’t ever going to be apart,” she teased.

  “Only when absolutely necessary. I’m willing to let you have your space, like when you use the bathroom.”

  She laughed. “I love your sense of humor.”

  “And I love the way you laugh.”

  “What did I do to deserve you?”

  “I could ask myself the same question.”

  “Wanna come up?”

  “I’ll wait down here. I have some calls to make.”

  Britt rolled her eyes at him comically and went up to her apartment. She picked out some clothes for work and got her laptop and charger. Looking around, she checked to make sure the milk in the refrigerator wasn’t expired and realized she had everything else she needed with her. She had a razor, her makeup, a flat iron, her contacts and saline solution. It would be pretty easy, she thought suddenly, to stay over at Jack’s until they found a place together. If she could coax him to clear out a drawer for her stuff, it would be dangerously simple. Biting her lip, she decided to pour out the milk because she might not be back before it turned.

  She grabbed her mail downstairs and slid back into the car beside Jack. He finished his call and they went to his apartment. She ordered a ridiculous quantity of tacos and found that he had requested that his housekeeper stock the refrigerator with cream cheese and salsa for her special recipe. In the master bedroom, she found not a single vacant drawer for her use, but a beautiful antique wardrobe, whitewashed and carved with flowers along the top molding, ready for her things.

  “Did you have the housekeeper bring that in, too?” she asked.

  “No, I ordered it a while back and they finally delivered it.”

  “Oh. So you didn’t pick it out for me. It’s just a piece you ordered for—”

  “For you. That was its purpose all along. I found it at an estate sale...when Dave and his wife aren’t fighting, they like to go antiquing and I tagged along. And then I asked them to clean it up for us a little bit, refinish it, that kind of thing. I thought you might like it.”

  “I love it,” she said. “I really, really love it. Thank you.”

  She set about unpacking her stuff and arranging it just so in the wardrobe, giddy as any kid at sleepaway camp for the first time. She was officially more excited about the a
rmoire than she had ever been over the idea of moving in with Kevin. The fact that Jack had made room for her in his life, in his home, with intention and thoughtfulness, was so meaningful to her. Her heart seemed full to bursting with love for him.

  She made the cream cheese dip and they had their tacos and chips by candlelight.

  “For romantic ambiance,” he insisted when she protested that takeout tacos were not candle-worthy.

  Over their simple meal, Jack took her hand.

  “Thank you for staying over tonight. I know you thought I was joking, but I really don’t want to be apart from you. I messaged my realtor today and asked her to get us an updated list of properties that might interest us. Want to go house hunting this weekend?”

  “Apartment hunting,” she corrected.

  “Yes. So, will you?”

  “Sounds like fun to me. When I was shopping for properties to—to share with Kevin, it was rough finding anything in the city proper under two million and even that was making compromises regarding location and amenities. I figured we were going to have a mortgage payment around five thousand a month. I can cover about...”

  “Stop thinking like an accountant for a second, Britt. We’re not going to be splitting a mortgage. We’re buying outright. And you don’t have to compromise anything. You wanted a roof garden, so that means we need an outdoor space. Any other requirements? Do you like the character of pre-war buildings? Modern design? Favorite neighborhoods?”

  “Slow down, Jack! I’m not expecting you to buy us an apartment. I’m perfectly able to pay my part of the mortgage and expenses.”

  “That’s wonderfully self-sufficient of you but you have the misfortune of moving in with a rich guy who then inherited yet more money and wants to pay for stuff. This is exciting for me, finding out that money is good for something other than vacation or just sitting there in the bank earning interest. It can buy us a home to start our life together.”

  “I love that you want to do that for us and it’s very sweet.”