Her CEO: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 180)

by Flora Ferrari

  For the job, which I still haven’t got a name for, for the company but most of all, for me.

  “I’d normally show you around now,” I tell her, looking at my watch, noting her bright eyes sadden a little as she thinks I’m about to brush her off as well. “…but it's lunch. Past lunch.”

  Three O’clock? It’s almost dinner.

  At the sound of the very word, her stomach lets out a loud rumble and I chuckle to myself.

  “That might answer my next question. Did you have lunch today?”

  She reddens, shaking her head.

  “Then it’s settled,” I tell her, standing up, pleased when her eyes leave mine, going straight down to my crotch again.

  There’s something about a girl who knows what she wants that a man really likes to see.

  “Hungry?” I ask her wistfully, knowing she needs food as much as everything else I have on offer.

  Her head pumps absently and I fight my own battle not to stare at her as much as she does me.

  Her chest is stiff again, her thick nipples like fingers, begging me to stroke them, to suck them…

  All this is making you hungry. Just go eat already.

  “I know just the place,” I tell her, and guiding her by the small of her back to the elevator again, I can’t resist leaning in and taking in the scent of her hair.

  Angelo’s is booked solid for months, but there’s always a table for me there.

  I move the waiter out of the way, seating Alyson myself.

  The menus are huge but I offer to order for us both, which Alyson agrees to readily.

  “I’ve heard of this place,” she says, her eyes still wide as they look around. “I thought it was booked for months,” she muses.

  “It is,” I tell her, wanting to mention my suite in the hotel above us, but deciding against that.

  “This whole day is like a dream,” she murmurs, and I pretend not to hear her as I fix my napkin across my lap, vowing to myself that this is how she’ll be treated every day from now on.

  No more dreaming for my queen.

  She looks worried when I order for us both.

  “Do you have any allergies?” I ask her, figuring she might.

  “No! It’s just…” She flushes again, looking at the menu, the absence of any prices.

  “It’s on me,” I assure her, wanting to reach out and touch her hand, to take it in mine… wishing I’d kissed her now. The butterflies of that memory making me nervous.

  Me. Nervous. Ha!

  But I am. A constant ripple in my belly, every movement she makes tugs at it, making me want her even more.

  While we wait for our food, I watch her eyes register the other diners, the dishes of food as they pass by our table.

  “This place really isn’t you, is it?” I ask her, feeling suddenly foolish for even bringing her here.

  She gives me a smile. “It’s nice.”

  “But not what you’d choose as a lunch option?” I observe, reminding myself there was a time when a sandwich or a hot dog from the street vendor was something to look forward to.

  “We can get something else,” I say, knowing the chef will gladly make me anything, even a sandwich. But she says she’s fine.

  Stop trying so hard, relax.

  Her face grows a little determined and she asks me more about the job. A sensible girl, as well as gorgeous. I’d be concerned if she didn’t ask a lot of questions.

  I guess I have to give her a job title ‘Queen of my world’ is a little odd for office stationery.

  “For now, you’ll be my personal assistant,” I declare, letting my eyes run to her cleavage and jumping as the wine cart waiter clears his throat.

  “Just mineral water for me,” she says, and I know for sure I’m with the right girl.

  “How old are you?” I ask her next, frowning then wincing. I don’t want to look or sound like a desperate old man, but at my age, my money, it’s almost expected I take someone half my age.

  “I’m twenty-two in December,” she says bashfully and I feel relief when the entrée arrives.

  “Parents?” I ask next, “I mean, do you live at home?”

  She shakes her head automatically.

  “Just me. Always has been,” she says, puckering for her straw as she sucks down her mineral water, and I know in an instant that she’s all alone in this world.

  Something I’ll let her tell me about when she’s ready. And something I have an instant remedy for.

  The food’s fancy, but there’s plenty of it. It’s how I like to eat and I’m relieved too once Alyson’s relaxed enough to enjoy her pasta, then lobster but declines a dessert, which I do too but only because she does.

  There’s more color in her cheeks and I can tell she needed to eat, her whole mood seems better and I know now how much I enjoy watching her eat as well as just being with her.

  “Better?” I ask her, followed by some scrutiny. “When did you last eat?”

  She flushes red and looks down at her lap, fidgeting with her napkin.

  “I only meant...” I start to say, but it’s clear she needs a job for more than one reason.

  Like the choice of restaurant, I forget sometimes, often that most people have money worries.

  “It’s okay,” she says, smiling now. “I can’t lie to you, I’m broke. I’m watching the neighbor’s apartment while they’re overseas, eating from their…”

  Her face suddenly goes pale and her mouth drops to form an ‘O’ shape.

  “What is it?” I ask her, panic rising in me, mixed with the pain of the thought of her living like that.

  “My neighbor!” she exclaims. “Uh, sorry, they have a bed being delivered today. I have to go!”

  I blink and shake my head from side to side, not believing it when she stands to leave.

  “I have to go, I promised to be home for the delivery, it’s up twelve flights, ugh! I’m so sorry.”

  “Wait!” I growl, my hand up and I hear the hush of the restaurant behind me as everyone turns to look.

  She’s frozen to the spot, but I can see she has someplace to be, probably never figured on getting the job and lunch within the same hour.

  “Alyson,” I say softly, motioning her back to her seat, “I can take you wherever you need to be, you don’t have to rush. Don’t have to run away.”

  “In twenty minutes?” she asks, screwing her face up with anxiety.

  She gives me her address, which isn’t that far.

  “I’ll take you there myself.” Jutting my chin for the waiter and telling him to have the valet bring my car around front.

  “Very good, Mr. Chambers,” he says, and with a brisk bow he’s off, the deep throaty growl of my custom sports car not too far behind a few minutes later.

  “Shall we?” I ask standing up and offering her my arm, which she takes.

  I feel like I’m floating on air with her on my arm as we leave the restaurant, the valet holding the car door open for me, but I walk round to make sure Alyson gets in first and is buckled in.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Alyson

  I totally forgot about the delivery, who orders a bed and then goes overseas?

  People with a job.

  Maybe I can buy some nice things now, maybe even get ahead on my rent… maybe even pay the damned rent.

  I can’t believe I’ve got the job, then lunch with the CEO and now he’s taking me home to make sure I get the delivery for my neighbor?

  I admit, I’m secretly hoping it’s more complex than that.

  Like maybe continuing on from that near kiss back in his office?

  I try not to, but I let out a little sigh, just thinking about the day so far, about how handsome Eric is and what a great driver he is too.

  I can’t fault the man. It’s almost like he has super powers he’s so perfect, so damned good looking.

  I still don’t get what he’d see in me, why he’d want me for anything.

  But there’s not a trace of anything bad
in him, I can tell that much.

  I try directing him, but he seems to know the city better than I do and we’re at my apartment building in time to see a delivery truck about to pull out, which he cuts in front of, making them swear and honk loudly.

  “I hope this is your bed,” he says with a grin, leaping out and holding up both hands, hailing the drivers and explaining the situation.

  There’s some mumbling and grumbling, but I see the flash of green and in no time the two delivery guys are falling over themselves to get the job done.

  “They almost missed us,” Eric says, helping me out of the car and pretending not to notice my look.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him, but he’s already past it, already somewhere else in his mind.

  Looking the building up and down, then eyeing the street he frowns.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I lie.

  It’s actually worse, after dark.

  Taking the tiny elevator up to my floor, I can tell Eric isn’t used to seeing how other people live.

  “It’s uncanny,” he says, almost reading my thoughts.

  “When you were a little girl, I used to live right down the street. Building’s gone now, but the old neighborhood, it hasn’t changed a bit.”

  It makes me feel a little less embarrassed about the place, but it’s a far cry from his world, the restaurant. His car. That suit.

  I feel like a peasant by comparison. As if for the first time I’m noticing the shabby building, the smelly elevators, the stained walls and carpeting.

  “Any more deliveries while your neighbor’s overseas?” he asks, which I think is a strange question, shaking my head.

  “Good,” he declares. And I furrow my brow in my own question, but Eric just smiles and gives me a sly wink.

  “Who orders a bed and then goes on holiday?” he asks me and we both laugh, me for more reasons than one.

  The inside of my neighbor’s apartment is much nicer than the outside. Homely and clean, but mine, opposite I’d rather not think about.

  I’ll just die if.

  “Which one’s yours?” Eric asks, looking at the door opposite, trying not to grin as I look away, and hoping he’ll change the subject.

  Fortunately, he picks up on my embarrassment and contents himself to help me clear a way for the delivery men in my neighbor’s place, moving some furniture and giving it his full attention.

  By the time we have a clear path and the old bed stacked up against the wall, the sound of the delivery men huffing interrupts us as once again, I feel nothing but attraction when being so close to Eric alone and his eyes on me, his low sounds and sultry glances tell me he feels the same.

  Eric lets the men take the bed as far as the bedroom, telling them we can take it from here. They shrug and eye the second, original bed.

  “This going?” One of the men asks and I nod, making him smile, then frown as he realizes its twelve flights down as well as up carrying another bed.

  They both shrug and get to work, Eric’s money poking out the top of their overall pockets, looking like they made a tidy profit for moving two beds.

  Eric himself makes sure he sees them out, closing then bolting the door behind them.

  Anyone else doing that and I’d be concerned, maybe even a little scared, but because it’s Eric, I feel a sudden thrill ripple through me.

  I’m standing in the bedroom, shivering now as I hear his steps coming toward me, my own heart like a drum in my chest and the familiar slickness forming between my legs at the thought of him kissing me again.

  “I hope you’re still holding that thought,” he says in a deep voice, striding over to me. My eyes tell him that I am and a small whimper escapes my lips.

  I’m holding more than the thought of him kissing me, and in seconds I’m holding onto him as he wraps me in his arms, my own arms thrust around his neck as his mouth presses hard over mine making us both moan deeply with satisfaction and relief.

  I’m no kisser, or so I thought, but the touch of his mouth on mine is the key to unlocking all my pent up desire for him along with a lifetime of repressed passions.

  We don’t need to use words anymore, our bodies are finally communicating the best way they know how. My hands quickly move from his neck to explore the rest of his rock hard body as he begins to grip mine in places that make me shudder as I struggle to stay upright in his arms.

  Using his foot while he holds me, Eric tilts the new mattress from against the wall to lay flat on the floor and we both collapse on it. I’m half-laughing, half-breathless from his kiss but all I want is to feel his body against mine. My hands start to claw at his clothes and his have my skirt riding up in seconds as we both silently agree that this is what we both want.

  What he’s wanted since laying eyes on me, and me wanting him since I saw his picture in the news years ago.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eric

  It’s a bold move, but I’m not known for skirting around the edges or holding back on anything.

  One look and I know she wants me. I also know I have to stake my claim. A girl like this, walking around in the world solo? It’s only a matter of time before she’s snapped up and this man knows what’s his when he sees it.

  “You’re mine, Alyson. I want you to be mine, say it,” I demand as we tumble onto the bed, my hands all over her, unable to get enough.

  “Oh, I’m yours,” she says, her eyes going wide as her hands find the thick bulge in my pants, making us both gasp and drawing a low growl of satisfaction from me.

  She hesitates, out of reflex as I unbutton her top but my hands tracing her thick nipples through her bra relax her, her head falling back as she shudders again under my touch.

  “I want you Eric… I do… but…” I don’t let her finish. My mouth over hers telling her the only ‘but’ I want is hers, in both my hands with her pussy buried in my face.

  “Mine,” I growl, letting my hand ride up between her legs, grinding my jaw as I feel her wet heat for the first time through her panties, making her whisper my name hoarsely, nodding her head and licking her lips.

  “Yours,” she whimpers, pleading as she opens her legs wide for me and I find the zipper to her skirt, freeing her from it in seconds, looking with excited satisfaction at the perfection of her thick, smooth body.

  Both her hands on the back of my head, pulling me down tell me what she wants, but I’m already halfway there, ready to give her what she so desperately needs.

  Her own breathing is so hard, so fast I think there might be something wrong until I pull her sodden panties to one side, pressing my whole mouth over her swollen mound in one movement, making her moan loudly and then breathe deeper as she bucks her hips forward.

  I lift her up by her ass cheeks, kneading them with both my hands as I devour her sweet essence, which is pouring from her, making me growl hungrily, eager for more.

  Tearing the thin fabric of her panties free gives me full access to her and I feel her hands gripping my hair tighter as her breathing becomes more focused, working in tune with the movement of my tongue over her stiff little clit, which I also hold delicately between my teeth for a time, making her call my name and grunt like an animal.

  My own hardness starts to twitch and I can feel precome trickling freely from my engorged head, pressing hard against my own pants, which I work to free in between servicing her sweet hole. Once I feel my thick stiffness bobbing in front of me, I realize it’s my own grunts and growls I’ve been hearing.

  “Eric,” she gasps, and I lift my hands to join hers, which she grabs tightly, our palms pressed together as her fingers grip mine.

  She’s so close, and I want to make sure I give her maximum pleasure as well as support so keeping one hand in hers, I use my other to press her behind again, making sure I have maximum contact.

  “E-Eric,” she stammers again, hyperventilating as I feel her body stiffen and her back arch under the pressure of my hand.

  “I’m�
�� I’m a… a… ahhh”

  A small squeak escapes her as she tries to finish what she’s saying, but her climax consumes her, flooding my mouth and face with wave after wave of her sweet, hot orgasm which I lap up greedily, vowing to myself to honor her like this every day from now on, no matter what.

  I grip her by the hips, savoring her essence as she shudders and pulses, riding the waves of what I feel is her first real orgasm ever.

  “I’m a virgin,” she gasps, and I feel her go limp as she collapses backwards, fully spent.

  I growl approvingly, and moving up her body, I kiss every inch of her, opening her top up fully and nuzzling my face between her ample breasts before kissing her tenderly, savoring the taste of both parts of her I like best so far and letting her taste the magic of her own climax.

  The pressure of my hot, fat cock against the inside of her thigh is enough to make us both groan with pleasure, but I only want one thing for now, to know that she’s satisfied and that she knows she’ll be mine from now on.

  “I said, I’m a virgin,” she huffs again, gasping in between breaths as she struggles to stay lucid.

  “I heard you,” I whisper into her ear.

  “It’s wonderful. It means you really are all mine. Now and forever, nobody else’s, just mine.”

  She opens her eyes, sitting up a little, covering her chest with her hands as if she’s embarrassed.

  “You don’t mind?” she asks innocently.

  I shake my head, smiling.

  Beaming.

  “How could I mind? It’s just one thing that makes you all the more perfect,” I tell her.

  “We don’t have to. Not right now, not if you don’t want to,” I continue, noticing the relief in her eyes as she fully melts into my weight on top of her again.

  “It’s just so new… so… wow! Is it always like that?” she asks, still trembling and having little jerks and spasms of post orgasmic pleasure ripple through her.

  “It is with us,” I tell her, and I mean it.

  If pleasuring her with my mouth is this amazing, I can’t wait to claim her properly.

  And I will.

  But not here. My queen needs her castle, not a stable when she’s crowned.