The Boss Vol. 4 (The Boss #4)

by Cari Quinn

  Grace’s eyes narrowed, the blue receding. “Yeah? If she’s so fucking awesome, then why isn’t she here?”

  Maybe it was how long I took to answer, or perhaps she’d finally allowed the pieces to snap together in her mind. She flushed and reached up to grip her throat. “It’s not me,” she muttered. “I’m not cunning. Not even close. And I don’t believe for a second that you haven’t had any other women here but me.”

  I moved closer. Not touching, but almost. “Don’t you?” I asked quietly.

  “Why?” she demanded. “Why would you invite me here if there hasn’t been anyone else? Do you think I’m going to shatter? The poor little former rich girl, now homeless and left begging—”

  “You aren’t begging yet.” I gripped her chin and tugged her face up to mine, drawing her up on her tiptoes. “But you will.”

  I expected her to push me away again. That was our dance. She pushed me away, I came back. I shoved her away, she moved in. We circled each other like boxers in a ring, but her weapon wasn’t her fists. It was her vulnerable sea-tinged eyes, and the freckles that resembled cinnamon sprinkled on snow on her shoulders, and the way her fingers curled around my wrist where I cupped her chin as if she needed something to hold onto.

  Tonight, she would hold onto me. And maybe for once, I’d hold back.

  She brought her lips to mine, and it wasn’t a kiss so much as a commanding. If I intended to make her beg, she didn’t intend to beg alone. Her mouth rubbed over mine, wet and soft, her vanilla flavored gloss clinging to my lips even as she retreated. I licked at her taste before I fisted a hand in her hair and dragged her right back, feasting on her like the delicacy she was. She was fire and fun and warmth and life. I’d had none of those things for so long that I was starving. I couldn’t get enough. My teeth sawed into her lip and she made a sound, but it damn sure wasn’t distress. She was already moaning, swaying against me, into me, as I chased the pleasure that swelled between us like a flame igniting in the dark. Burning away all the shadows. Hers, mine.

  Together, we became something else entirely.

  Her breasts pressed into my chest and I reached down to grab a handful of her ass. Her flesh filled my hand perfectly. I was halfway to depositing her on the counter when I remembered we’d already played this scene once before. Not again. She deserved more than a fuck on a bathroom sink, whether that was at work or in my house. I might not be able to offer her more than sex, but I could damn well make that good for her. More than just a rub-and-grind.

  “In the tub,” I rasped against her mouth, nearly groaning as her tongue flicked against the seam of my lips. She wasn’t shy about asking for entrance, and I could deny her nothing.

  If she realized that, I’d be sunk.

  “You want in my bubbles?” she teased me between kisses, her hands roaming like mine were. She finished undoing the buttons of my shirt and slipped her hands under the fabric, unleashing the groan I’d swallowed. She had calluses and scars on her hands from her glass work, and the feeling of them scraping against my flesh were painfully arousing. My cock jerked in my trousers and she noticed, darting a glance at the bulge below my waist. She smirked. “Guess you want in more than bubbles, huh?”

  “I want in anywhere you’ll have me.” It just so happened my hand was still on her ass. And maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that I squeezed, hard, my fingers easing close to the tight pucker between her cheeks.

  Her pupils flared, her expression so wary that I had to laugh.

  “Get in the tub, Ms. Copeland.”

  Chapter Three

  Grace slipped under the surface of the water, submerging herself under a mass of ocean-scented bubbles. I knew exactly where the bottle of bubble bath had come from. Some well-meaning person had given it to me as a housewarming present, claiming I needed to relax. Apparently bubble baths were what I was supposed to be doing to achieve that state.

  Or else I could just cup my hard-on through my pants and watch Grace slide lower until only her nose, lively summer sky-colored eyes and precariously balanced bun of golden curls remained above the froth.

  When I went to undo the snap of my pants, she tilted her head, sending another curl flying away from the rest. Though it dipped between her eyes, she paid it no mind. Her focus was all on my hand, slipping the zipper lower. I removed my shoes and socks, then shucked my pants and boxers. I would’ve done the same with my shirt, but she shook her head.

  “Leave it on.”

  I rose an eyebrow. Did she have some kind of suit fetish or something?

  My questions in that arena only grew as she pushed herself out of the water. Bubbles and droplets cascaded off her flushed breasts and her tight pink nipples. My mouth watered, and I would’ve agreed to anything she asked.

  Which was handy, since she had quite the request.

  “Where’s your tie?” she murmured, and I knew it wasn’t an idle question.

  “Other room.”

  “Go get it.”

  I lifted a brow. “You think I take your orders, Ms. Copeland?”

  “You do if you expect me to take yours.” To sweeten the pot, she rose up on her knees and scooped up a couple of handfuls of water, splashing them over her cleavage. Her tits bounced with the movement and she lifted up just enough for me to see a hint of neatly trimmed pale blond curls between her thighs.

  I was moving toward the bedroom before she could speak again. Her soft laughter followed me out, another kind of gift.

  I wasn’t the sort of man who could be commanded—by anyone but her. The reins she held were no less powerful for being invisible.

  She slipped under the bubbles again as I came back in with the tie. I wanted to wind it around her wrists and anchor it to the faucet, to leave her completely at my mercy while I gave her half a dozen orgasms. I wouldn’t stop until she was limp and sated and the night a blur in her mind.

  But this was her thing. She clearly had something in mind, and if fulfilling it gave her pleasure, I’d make it happen. Anything to diminish the memory of her fear as those intruders had invaded her sacred space.

  Isn’t that what you did too? Unintentionally, but still?

  “I want to watch,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the jets she must’ve hit during my tie retrieval. She gestured at the mirrored tiles that surrounded us, splattering bubbles across my already too hot and tight skin. “I want to see everything.”

  “That was the plan.”

  “No.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I want to watch you.”

  Slowly, I drew the tie between my hands. A picture was forming behind my eyes, and the mere idea had my brutally hard cock bobbing against my stomach. “And this?”

  “You like…pressure, right?” She lowered her lashes, then swept them up so I was trapped in a swirl of heated blue-green. Damn siren. She was already sliding to the side of the tub. “I’ll tie the knot.” She tugged on the tie and I let go.

  She slipped the silky material around my erection and ran it up down a few times, jerkily at first then smoother until I was rolling forward on the balls of my feet. It took everything I possessed not to grab a handful of her hair and drag her mouth to my length, to push past those glossy pink lips. But she’d made a request, and I was helpless to resist.

  I also wanted to see how far she’d go. Exactly how much she could take.

  Maybe even how much I could.

  She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and pulled the ends of the tie tighter, picking up speed as she went. I sucked in a breath and linked my hands behind my neck. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been yanking her closer and shoving my way inside. I was viciously aroused, the head of my dick nearing a deep red bordering purple, a drop of pre-cum hovering at the tip. It lingered there, so near to her mouth that I was practically a twitch away from orgasm. But she didn’t ease my torment. The balm of her mouth wasn’t what she had in mind.

  Instead, she tied the tie in a loose knot at the base of my cock, shutting off
the blood flow and making me growl.

  “Nothing fancy today.” She sounded breathless. “Just an easy way to keep you from coming.” Her lashes lifted and fell a couple of times in quick succession as she eyed my hard-on. “You were too close, and I want a show.”

  “You want me to masturbate for you,” I gritted out.

  She nodded and slid back under the bubbles. Then she lifted one foot and braced it on the edge of the tub. “I’ll return the favor.”

  “But I can’t fucking see. All the goddamn bubbles.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Carson. Such language.” She trailed a hand over one of her breasts, traveling lower to pinch one rosy pink nipple so it poked through the water. “You have an imagination, don’t you?” Her other hand disappeared under the water and I bit back a groan. “Use it.”

  I stroked myself because I had no choice. That restrictive band was staving off my climax as she’d planned, but it was also ratcheting up the pressure to the point of insanity. My balls felt full tight and every jerk of my hand slicked my own wetness over my thick shaft. I hissed as she cupped her breast, bringing it out of the water just enough for me to salivate at the sight of her taut nipple, peeking through her fingers while she squeezed. The water sloshed gently between her thighs from her hand’s movements and the rush of the jets. Every now and then I’d glimpse a slice of skin or a flash of her thin bracelet, letting me know she was keeping her end of the bargain. Not that it even mattered. I was in such agony from just the sight of her touching her breast and my impending orgasm that imagining her with her fingers inside her pussy was almost too much. Sensory overload.

  “I’m close,” I warned.

  Some part of me was already starting to retreat. This was a kind of vulnerability I hadn’t expected. I couldn’t fully see her bringing herself pleasure, and I was trussed up, on display. At her mercy. My hands weren’t bound, and I definitely had full range of motion, but being so close to release when she hadn’t had one—and when she could watch me so carefully, like a scientist with a lab rat—made me want to rip off the tie and plunge into the slick heat between her legs. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind. I didn’t do this kind of thing for anyone. I was in control at all times.

  Except I wasn’t. Not with her. And now she’d proven it.

  Then she flexed the foot still propped on the edge of the tub and lifted up again, sloshing through the bubbles until I saw her fingers disappearing into the recesses of her body. Her lashes fluttered and her lips parted, offering me a look at her pink tongue caught between her teeth. I recognized the expressions she made when she was close to climaxing, and she was almost there. A deep pink hue darkened her cleavage and the apples of her cheeks, and her hand was working hard. I wanted to lap up the wetness she’d made. To taste it.

  But if I couldn’t, she could.

  “Put your finger in your mouth,” I grated, my voice a rumble that competed with the jets. Her eyes popped open, sleepy and bright with impending orgasm, and she withdrew her fingers, trailing them up her torso to her mouth. Playing the moment to the hilt, she slipped two inside and sucked. And the shaky hold I’d had on my own release shattered.

  My hand pumped, so fast that groans tumbled from my throat. One after the other, tangling together. I sounded like a wounded animal as I jacked myself to completion. Even the constriction of the tie was no match. With my other hand, I tugged the knot free just as the dam burst. Hot ropes of liquid shot over my flexing fingers. I couldn’t contain it all and didn’t even try. I just grabbed hold of the edge of the counter and tried to hold on while my body erupted.

  As soon as I finished, I reached for Grace, hauling her out of the tub. “Mine,” I growled, shoving her hand away from her pussy. “I make you come. No one else. Not even you.”

  She started to argue and I clamped my mouth down on hers to cut her off. I hoisted her legs around my waist and turned us toward the bedroom, not caring one bit that she was dripping all over the floor. That kind of thing only mattered when I didn’t have a warm, willing woman in my arms, writhing against me as our mouths fought for dominance. The damp ends of her hair tickled my shoulders and her mouth was a fever on mine. Her nails scraped at the tops of my arms, scoring through my shirt, and the hot press of her breasts was mind-erasing, I’d never known such want.

  Grace. All Grace.

  I strode across the large master suite and dumped her on the precisely made bed. The sheets rucked up around her hips as she scrambled for purchase. I grabbed a pillow and lightly pinched her hip. “On your stomach.”

  That same wariness I’d seen earlier entered her gaze and she scooted backward, her legs falling open. “Blake--“

  “I took your orders. Now you’ll take mine.” My voice was a harsh rasp. “That was the deal.”

  “Only a fool would make deals with you,” she muttered, rolling over.

  I slipped the pillow under her belly, which pushed her gorgeous ass upward. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t take the time to admire the sight. I had tasks to accomplish. “Don’t move.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  This time I didn’t smile at her insouciance. I was too on the edge, once again. And payback was going to be a bitch.

  I went into the bathroom to retrieve my discarded tie and came back in to find Grace wiggling as she tried to get comfortable with the pillow beneath her, I didn’t want her comfortable. I wanted her coming so hard that nothing registered in her thoughts but me, just me, the man who owned her pleasure.

  Saying nothing, I strode to the headboard and looped the tie around one of the spindles. Then I tugged on her hands, ignoring her gasp as I loosely wrapped the tie around her wrists and pulled, stretching her closer to the head of the bed, lengthening her sexy body before me, putting her on display as I had been.

  “This wasn’t part of the bargain.”

  “Call me sir again.” It wasn’t a request, and she didn’t treat it as such.

  Her lashes swept down then lifted, her blue-green eyes as clear as the harbor on a summer day. “Sir.”

  “Are you uncomfortable in any way?”

  “Yes.” She wetted her lips and rolled her hips. “I need...”

  “Tell me.”

  “I need to come.”

  Relief surged through me at her admission. She didn’t want free from her bonds, at least not enough to ask for it.

  I didn’t waste any more time. I moved behind her and pried apart her legs, pressing my face to the swollen, fragrant cleft between them. She smelled of the ocean and soap and want, the scent so heady I didn’t do anything but inhale. And when I exhaled, I made sure to bend close enough that my breath wafted over her damp flesh. She shifted her hips restlessly and twisted her wrists, already chafing at her restricted movement.

  Then I took a long, slow lick and she went utterly still.

  Her taste exploded in my mouth. Tangy and sweet, and somehow secret. I immediately went back for more, scooping my tongue through her abundant wetness for the sole purpose of making more. She shivered and dug her knees into the mattress, raising her hips so I could take more. I circled my finger over her clit and she bucked, pushing her pussy at my face. Pulling out the words I couldn’t hold back another second.

  “Is this what you did to yourself? Touch yourself like this? Slow. So slow.” I fought every impulse that demanded I rush. “Maybe use your thumb on your clit and slide a finger in here...” I teased her entrance with the tip of my finger, darting in and out until she jerked at the tie around her wrist in her haste to press her advantage. I kept my pace easy even as her flesh grew more slippery and so swollen. “But you couldn’t do this.” I slicked my tongue around the finger I slipped in and out, reveling in her fractured moans. She was so close. As much as I wanted to swallow her release, I craved to feel it around my cock. Spilling out around me, making a mess of us both.

  “Please, Sir. Please.”

  Against her cleft, I smiled. That was enough to make my cock jerk between my body and the
bed, my previous orgasm all but forgotten. I yearned for her pussy almost as much as I needed her to come.

  She rubbed against the pillow in frustration as I shifted back, keeping that single finger just barely inside her. I turned it, sliding in and out in shallow strokes that made her pant and arch her back.

  “I know that’s not enough, is it, baby? Not enough to get you off.”

  “No. God, no. Harder, deeper. More.”

  “So greedy.” I nipped at the swell of her ass and she startled with a whimper. “Sorry, Grace, but I had to work for it. So do you.” I pressed a fraction deeper, flexing my palm against her soaked pussy, and she let out a gasp. “My finger’s right here. So’s the pillow. Take what you want.”

  She arrowed her hips down at the pillow, grinding hard. Her jerky movements sucked my finger deeper and she released a grateful sigh. Without shame, she circled and rocked, working for the climax that was tightening her walls around my finger. So close. She was already rippling inside. So wet on my finger that I relented and gave her another, sliding them deep as she tugged on the tie and bowed her back. One pass over her G-spot and she broke apart with a cry, her ass shaking from the force of her spasms. I curled my fingers, extending the moment until I could take no more.

  I rose and retrieved a condom from the nightstand, then snapped it on and knelt between her splayed legs. She was still trembling, clearly spent.

  Or so she thought.

  I drove deep, sending her up on her knees. She moaned and for a second, I worried I’d hurt her. Then she turned her head and shot me a glance through her loosened curls. “Is that all you got?”

  Goddamn this woman.

  I pulled back and plunged again, forcing her ass in the air. She yanked on the headboard and the bed springs squeaked as I repeated the move, slow and deep. And hard. So hard that every thrust pulled a cry from her throat. I could feel her building again, her pussy tightening around me with every drag of flesh on flesh.