"What?"
His eyes fix on mine. "I do things a certain way."
I swallow hard.
"I'm always in control."
"You mean… with, um…"
"When we're together, you're going to follow every one of my commands."
"Oh. I… um… I've never…"
"You're a virgin?"
"Yes." My cheeks flush. I swallow hard. "I don't date."
"Good. I want to be your first."
My chest flushes.
"But I have to warn you—"
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to wreck you for other men."
I open my mouth to speak, but words refuse to fall. He's so… I… uh.
"I'll say it a thousand times. I'm not paying for sex. I'm going to fuck you because you want me. If you don't, if you change your mind—"
"I do. I… I want to try it that way."
"Good. I want you tied to my bed." He pulls the strap of my dress aside slowly. "I want you at my mercy."
I want to be at his mercy. It's scary how much I want to be at his mercy.
I barely know him.
But I want him in control of my body.
It's scary how much I want him in control of my body.
I lean into his touch.
His lips brush my neck.
It's soft. Tender. Hot as hell.
I let my eyelids flutter together. I surrender to the sensations forming in my body.
Blake pulls my dress off my shoulders. He cups my breast, over my bra. Kisses a trail from my lips to my collarbone.
Objections form and dissolve on my tongue. I force myself to hold onto one of them. "We haven't agreed to anything."
"Is there anything else you want?"
"How long will this be? Is it indefinite?"
"Six months. A year, max." The strength drops from his voice. It's hurting. Something about this hurts him.
"Is there an out?"
"I'll only accept a full commitment."
A year with a man I barely know.
That's a huge gamble. But it's worth it for the end of that awful mortgage. For an education for Lizzy. And for me.
A million dollars.
That's enough to travel the world. To get a fine arts degree. To start my own comic studio.
That's… everything.
"Okay." I offer my hand.
He shakes. "I'll have my lawyer draft a contract. We'll sign tomorrow."
"Okay."
He stares deeply into my eyes. "This will move fast. You'll need to be ready by next week."
"I can do that."
"There will be cameras when we announce our engagement. You can wear what you want, but if you need help finding something, my assistant—"
"Okay." I nod. As much as I don't like the idea of being a doll, I don't know fancy parties. I don't want to look out of place. It's going to be hard enough convincing the world I'm Blake Sterling's girlfriend looking the part.
"I'll pick you up Saturday morning at nine a.m."
Jesus, that's early for someone who works mostly nights. "As long as you bring coffee."
He brushes my hair from my shoulder. "When you're with me, I'll take care of everything."
"Coffee?"
He nods.
"Food?"
He nods.
"What else?"
He runs his hands over my bra. "Clothing."
"Oh, that stands for clothing, does it?"
He nods.
His lips close over mine. It's magic. Like one of those scenes in a movie where fireworks explode over a pretty pink castle.
His lips are soft. Sweet. Commanding.
I run my hands through his hair. It's short. Thick. Neat.
His hand slips into my bra.
His fingers brush my nipple.
Fuck, that feels good.
I'm shaking. It's been a long, long time since anyone has touched me like this.
No. No one has touched me like this, like I'm a gift they want to unwrap.
I groan against his lips. Slide into his lap. Details fade to the back of my mind. They’re so much less important than my body against his.
I dig my hands into the soft fabric of his shirt until I can feel the hard contours of his muscles.
Desire overwhelms me.
I've never wanted anyone this much. I never even knew you could want someone this much.
He tugs at my dress, but he's pulling it back on, back over my shoulders.
My head is spinning. He's not… but he… he can't stop now.
I'm pent up.
I'm going to explode.
"It's late," he says.
I blink a few times, but he's still staring at me with that same impenetrable look on his face. "What else?" I ask. "Besides food, coffee, and clothing?"
"You'll come when you're with me, Kat. I'll make sure of it."
"But not tonight?"
"Not yet." He shifts off the couch. "I'll walk you out."
"I can walk myself."
I reach for my coat, but Blake is already holding it.
His fingers brush against my neck as he helps me into my coat.
Heat floods my body. It's everywhere. I can barely stand.
But we're not having sex tonight.
I… I don't get it.
I squeeze my purse. This is for the best. I've only known him a week.
Blake walks me to the elevator. He waves his key card in front of the door. "I'll have one made for you."
"Sure."
"My driver will take you home. If you need anything, call."
"I'll be fine."
His stare is intense. "Anything."
My stomach flutters. He can't mean sex. He just sent me out of his office with my dress falling off my shoulders.
I clear my throat and step into the elevator. "Goodnight."
He nods.
The doors slide closed, and I finally exhale. Almost home. It's a quick ride to the ground floor. As promised, there's a sleek limo waiting out front.
The man standing in front of it nods. "You must be Ms. Wilder."
I nod.
"Jordan." He offers his hand.
I shake.
"It's lovely to meet you." He opens the door to the backseat and motions after you.
I slide inside.
It's not like the limo I took to Junior Prom. It's sleek. Dark. Black leather and soft suede.
The minibar is stocked with tiny bottles of top-shelf stuff—brands I've never heard of. I crack open a mini bottle of gin and take a long sip. It's good.
But it's not doing anything to help with my frustration.
It's only winding up the tension inside me.
Letting down all the walls protecting me from my libido.
The door closes. Jordan speaks into his earpiece. "Understood, sir." The partition rolls up with a quiet whir.
I'm as good as alone.
My phone rings in my purse. Blake. What the hell?
I answer. "Hello."
"I said anything, Kat."
"I was there."
"You want something."
My heart races. Of course I want something. He's not an idiot. "Yes."
"So ask for it."
Heat rushes through me, collecting between my legs. "I…"
"Take off your underwear. I want to hear you come."
Chapter Five
My cheeks flush, but I can't blame the alcohol.
I'm hot everywhere.
Take off your underwear. I want to hear you come.
I… Uh…
I can't strip in the back of a limo.
Even if I'm more or less alone.
"Kat?" His voice is a command. It's now.
I let out a heavy exhale. "I can't."
"You want to come?"
"Yes."
"Put the phone on speaker."
I do. I set it on the bench next to me. The limo is already moving. It's not far to my place. We're right by the Brooklyn Bri
dge.
Is ten minutes enough time for this?
It's not like I take my time when I masturbate.
But this is different.
It's for him.
"Kat." His voice drops an octave.
"It's on speaker." I squeeze my knees together. It does nothing to temper the heat racing through me. I'm achy.
I can't believe it, but I want to strip right here.
I want to touch myself for his listening pleasure.
His voice flows from the speakers. "Don't make me ask again."
My fingers curl around my panties. I lift my hips and slide them to my ankles.
"Done," I breathe.
"Good girl."
It should annoy me, but it doesn't. It makes me hotter. It makes me even more desperate for release.
"Spread your legs."
I slide my knees apart. It shifts my pelvis up. Cold air hits my tender flesh. It wakes up my nerves. It winds me tighter.
"Take off your bra," he demands.
I roll my dress to my chest, unhook my bra, and slide it off my shoulders.
My nipples tighten.
I'm stripping for a voice on the phone. No, for Blake. For a man with all the money and power in the world.
I like that he has the power to snap his fingers and destroy me.
I like that I'm out of my fucking mind.
I want to forget the rest of the world. I want to forget everything but his demands.
"Good." His voice gets heavier. "Play with your nipples."
I squeeze my eyes closed and imagine him here, touching me the way he touched me in the office.
Slowly, my thumbs brush my nipples. I draw circles. Soft ones. Then hard ones.
A groan falls off my lips. Then another. It's almost like he's touching me. But, fuck, I really wish it was him touching me.
His breath gets heavier.
Needier.
He's the one in control, but I'm doing something to him too. I'm driving him out of his mind too.
"Bring your hand to your thigh," he says. "But don't touch your cunt. Not yet."
I stroke the inside of my thigh. Closer and closer and closer. But not quite there.
My breath speeds. Desire courses through me. I need release. I'm desperate.
"Kat."
"Yes."
"I said not yet."
I move my hand back to my knee, tracing circles around it. I can't wait any longer. I need to come. I've never needed to come this badly.
"Back to your thighs," he says.
No. Now. I need release now.
It's torture dragging my hand to my thigh. Stroking my skin as softly as I can stand it.
But it's a beautiful torture.
"Now," Blake says. "Slowly."
My fingertips brush my clit.
It's intense. I'm wound up. Sensitive.
I do it a little harder.
A little longer.
Fuck.
That feels so good.
A groan falls off my lips.
I lean back on the bench seat.
And I touch myself with that same speed. That same pressure.
Then faster.
Harder.
Mmmm.
I need to come. I need my groans in his ear. I need everything.
His voice gets hard. "Slowly."
No. Faster. Harder. Now.
I force myself to slow. I force my touch to lighten. My fingers brush my clit with soft circles. It's agony. Delicious, beautiful agony.
Pleasure wells up inside me. My sex tightens. I'm close. So fucking close.
I keep up those slow circles. I wind myself up. Tighter and tighter and tighter.
His breath gets heavier. Needier.
He's sitting there in his office, listening to me touch myself.
And I…
I really fucking like that.
It deepens the ache inside me.
My hand takes over. I move faster. Harder.
Pleasure pools in my core.
The tension is too much too take. I'm so close.
"Come for me, Kat."
Yes.
My next stroke is faster. Harder. It only takes a few flicks of my finger, and I'm there. Agony fades into bliss. Pure, deep, blinding bliss.
The tension inside me unfurls as I come. My groans echo around the limo. Pleasure spills to my fingers and toes. I feel so fucking good.
I collapse on the bench seat. Spent. Satisfied.
"Fucking beautiful," he growls.
I try to find words, but they refuse to climb my throat.
"I'll let you go." Satisfaction drips into his voice. "Sweet dreams."
"You too."
The phone clicks.
I catch my breath, then I push myself up. Get back into my dress. Stuff my cell into my purse.
I'm not in control of this.
Not at all.
It's terrifying.
But it's thrilling too.
At ten the next morning, there's a loud knock on the door. I nearly drop the graphic novel in my hands. The slick plastic cover—the same on every other library book I've ever borrowed—is slippery.
Lizzy is at school.
Nobody comes by this early.
That must be Blake's assistant. With our paperwork.
I rise to my feet and move to the door. "Hello."
"Hello, Ms. Wilder. I have something for you."
I pull open the door.
A friendly man in a suit smiles at me. He hands over a sleek black briefcase. And a cup of coffee. "Mr. Sterling said you'd appreciate this."
Blake is sending me coffee.
From his assistant, but still.
I take a long sip. It's more bitter than I like it, but it's still good. Rich. Strong. Bold. Like him.
"Thank you." I nod goodbye and move back inside the house.
I fix my coffee with a little cream and sugar and take another sip. There. That's perfect.
I guess Blake did say he'd take care of me.
It's a strange thought. For the last three years, I haven't let anyone help me. I've been taking care of myself. And of Lizzy.
Half of me wants to let go of every ounce of that control.
The other half wants to hold onto it as tightly as I can.
I take another sip of my coffee. I let it warm me from inside out. I let it push my thoughts away.
This is coffee.
It doesn't have to mean more than coffee.
But what's in this briefcase—
The paperwork makes everything official.
A non-disclosure agreement forbids me from sharing details of our arrangement with anyone.
There's a credit card in my name. The bill goes right to Blake.
The contract stipulates our terms.
Starting today, I am Blake's doting girlfriend. I'll clear my schedule for him whenever he needs me. He gets approval of all my public appearances and social media.
Within the next three months, we'll marry. I'll sign a prenup. He decides when we'll divorce, but it will be by the end of next year. I'll get a million dollars for my trouble.
He'll pay off the mortgage as an advance.
My incidentals go on the credit card. They're to be "reasonable."
But I'm pretty sure Blake's idea of a reasonable allowance ends in a lot of zeros.
No more shitty generic coffee.
No more library books.
No more crappy running shoes.
No more serving rich assholes.
I'll be smiling at them instead. But at least they'll be the ones sucking up to me.
I pick up my cheap Bic pen and I sign on the dotted line.
I'm signing away my freedom.
But I'm getting a hell of a lot in return.
I put in my two weeks' notice.
I tell Lizzy I'm dating a new guy. A rich guy.
She presses for details, but I keep my lips zipped. I don't know what to tell her. I don't want to lie to my sister. Bu
t I need to say something. She needs to know I'm quitting my job because we're set.
I think it over all week.
I fail to come up with a cover story.
Saturday morning, Blake's limo pulls up at nine on the dot.
Thankfully, Lizzy is still asleep. I leave a note on the kitchen table and make my way outside.
It's a beautiful day. Yellow sun. Bright blue sky. Crisp, clear air. The skyline is beautiful. Awake. Alive. Inviting.
Jordan is standing on the stoop. He nods hello. "Nice to see you, Ms. Wilder." He opens the door and motions after you.
I slide inside.
Blake is on the opposite bench. He's wearing slacks and a blue, collared shirt. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows.
He almost looks casual. But in an untouchable Blake kind of way.
"Good morning." He nods.
"Good morning." I try to pry my eyes from his forearms, but I fail. God, he really has nice forearms. And I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes. Not after what we did… what I did last time I was in this car.
He hands over a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?"
"Cream and sugar."
He holds up a nondescript paper bag. "I have a few different options."
I grab it. It's warm. And it smells like—
I tear it open.
Bagels.
Plain. Sesame. Onion. Cinnamon raisin.
I grab the latter and pull it apart. "My favorite." I dig out cream and sugar. But how am I going to fix my coffee while we're moving?
"Here." Blake offers his hand.
I nod.
He takes my coffee and my packets. He sets the cup on the bench seat and peels the plastic lid open. Somehow, he fixes it without spilling a drop.
His fingers brush mine as he returns my java.
It's the same as last time. My body lights up. It wants those hands.
But then…
Maybe today.
Maybe I'll get them today.
"Thank you." I take a long sip of my coffee. It's perfect. This is the perfect breakfast.
He takes the plain bagel and tears off half. "It's going to be a long day."
I nod and take a bite. Mmm. Chewy, sweet, spicy perfection.
"Let me know if it's too much."
"What?"
His eyes pass over me slowly. "Everything."
Blake's assistant, Ashleigh, a pretty black woman in a designer outfit, guides us through an exclusive department store. She fills her arms with expensive things and leads me into a fitting room.
It starts with underwear. She measures me for a bra and brings a dozen in my size. Some are sexy, lacy things. Some are comfortable. Practical.
Dirty Boss Page 29