Falling for His Boss

by Rosie Praks

  “No. Let go of me, Darcy. Let me go,” Whitney chanted her own mantra.

  But again, Darcy ignored her.

  “Let me go or hold me?” he asked, as if he were her master in the bedroom, making her mind spin faster than a washing machine. “Speak clearly. Your body is asking for my finger, but your mouth is saying something else.”

  “Darcy!” Whitney mewed, shaking her head. She was all confused. Burning need throbbed at her core and obliterated her rational mind. She couldn’t take it. Her senses were shattered. She smacked her head against the pillow a couple times, not knowing what else to do. Obviously, yelling at Darcy didn’t do an ounce of good. So pleading it must be.

  But the thought of pleading with him sounded so foreign on her tongue. She was the boss. Why must she plead to her PA for something like this? But she had no way out. She had to stop him before he went further.

  “I’m sorry about before.” She managed to leak out.

  “Oh, so you can apologize now,” Darcy said, grinning as if he’d already won in their little game. Oh, how she wanted to slap that silly grin off his face. It irked her to the core that she had to be in this submissive role.

  “Yes. I can apologize. So won’t you let me go, Darcy, please?” she begged with the softest voice she could muster.

  “Mmm. I don’t know.” Darcy pretended to assess their situation. “I kind of like you all tied up like a Christmas ham like this.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?” She drummed. “Tell me. I’ll do it.”

  “Let’s see,” Darcy said, thinking of ways to punish his boss.

  Oh, yes. It’s perfect, he thought. Asking his boss to kiss him would be like striking down an opponent, except he would have all the advantage. It was like asking her to jump off her pedestal voluntarily. Oh, Darcy, my man, you’re so smart.

  “Kiss me. On my lips. French style,” he declared.

  Whitney almost choked. “What? French style. On your lips. You’re joking.”

  “I’m not joking. Kiss me now or I won’t let you go.”

  Whitney had no way out. This was humiliation on all counts. Just you wait, Darcy. I’ll fire you from my department. No, I’ll put a black mark on your record so you won’t get hired anywhere else in the country. No, in the world.

  “Fine,” Whitney let out, making Darcy’s lips curve up in victory. “Lean closer. I have no energy to get up since I’m all tied up like this.”

  “Happy to oblige.” Darcy grinned.

  Darcy leaned closer, but it still wasn’t enough for her.

  “I said closer. Come closer.”

  “How close do you want me? I’m already smack in front of your face,” Darcy growled. And suddenly, his heart thumped against his chest because he was really looking at his boss, no glasses, half clothed.

  Darcy gulped, moving a bit closer still. And now he was right in front of her eyes, staring at those green orbs, mesmerized by the way they sparkled when she blinked. Darcy blinked, too, following her movement.

  “This close,” Whitney said, interrupting his concentration before surprising him by winding her tied wrists around his neck and giving him the kiss of the century.

  Oh shit. Oh shit. Where is this going? Darcy thought to himself when he felt her soft flesh pressing against his lips. His heart was pounding in his chest again. Lust coiled in his loins.

  It was only a game, wasn’t it? Just to frighten his boss a bit. He didn’t actually want to bed her for real. Those last few kisses and the finger action were only pretend. There was no real meaning behind them. But this… this was something else. He found his fingers scrunching into her hair, tilting her head just an inch to adjust the angle of their kiss, to get the most pleasure and satisfaction out of their encounter. His tongue delved deeper, seeking that warm, velvety tongue so he could play again.

  Whitney was feeling the same. Heat raked her soul. She pushed her tongue deeper, wanting to seek more of Darcy’s, wanting to feel more butterflies swarming in her stomach, wanting to feel those rosy buds on her breasts rub against Darcy’s cotton shirt. She was a goner. She was lost. And tonight, she knew she must have him or she’d go crazy.

  Darcy pulled back when their kiss turned into a flame so hot it seemed to burn their clothes away. He was now naked, molding his nude body against hers, rubbing and caressing her in places he couldn’t imagine touching. Her buttocks, her breasts, her hips, soft, supple flesh he couldn’t get enough of by just touching alone, but needed the help of his lips and tongue to fully enjoy the pleasure.

  Oh shit. He knew something wasn’t right. The witch was playing with his mind again. She must have poisoned him with something. Why else would he want to bed her this badly? So he pulled back to try and regain his senses.

  But looking at her like this, with her moist, bruised lips, her sparkling large green eyes gazing back at him, Darcy was struck cold by his boss’ beauty.

  Oh God. She was so cute, like one of those female anime characters. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her. She was so damn adorable, so adorable he had to kiss her again. And again. And again until he was literally raining kiss after kiss on her face.

  Darcy came to a startling conclusion. He wanted his boss. Not for the sake of proving his prowess to her, but because he really wanted her, like a man wanting to bed the woman he loved.

  “Oh God, Whitney, let me make love to you,” he growled like a feral animal before snuggling his face at the nape of her shoulder and kissing her there.

  Whitney couldn’t negate this request as she was also lost in her own world of sweet seduction. She kissed him back just as forcefully, her fingers running up and down his back, caressing his taut muscles.

  Not satisfied with just touching, her lips sought his mouth again, finding only his earlobe. But it was okay since she could taste him there.

  And she did. She nipped on his ear before running her tongue across his jawline to find his lips again. And then she found her destiny, his mouth, and most specifically, his tongue. She gave him all she got.

  Somewhere along the line, her bonded wrists became free, and she sought refuge in his hair, threading and snaking her fingers to get a firm grip on those silPreston strands, holding his head in place as he kissed and sucked at her rosebud again, a ravenous desire bursting through every pore in her body.

  Struck by endless sexual pleasure, Darcy parted her legs, knowing full well he was more than ready for the final base. But unsure if Whitney was ready, he asked, “Whitney, can I come in?”

  Whitney didn’t respond, but just nodded her head. That nod was enough for Darcy to move forward. But not before protecting Whitney and himself. He crawled off the bed, little Johnny aching heavily between his legs.

  Whitney was paralyzed on the bed, waiting and wondering whether she had gone senile. Darcy was no longer on top of her, so why didn’t she move? What was wrong with her? And where was Darcy going?

  Not a minute later, Darcy was back on top of her. She looked down at him as he was fumbling with something in his hands. Then she knew. He was putting a condom on little Johnny.

  Or should she say long, big, hard Johnny?

  Oh God. Could she even fit him in? But before she could think any further, Darcy was already inching into her bit by bit until he was fully in.

  And she held her breath because she was so full.

  But oh God, did it feel good. Was this what she’d been missing? Was this why Clarice was always glowing. Sex. It had sounded so sinful when one spoke, but why was it so delicious when one experienced it?

  And delicious it was when Darcy started moving, thrusting into her like her perfect lover. If only she had one. But she loved it, missed it even. How did she survive without sex for such a long time? Should she start dating again just so she could experience this delicious sensation? Maybe with Darcy as her bed partner?

  Oh God. No. What was she thinking? Darcy was her PA.

  But Whitney lost her grip on that thought when Darcy bit one of her rosebud
s, eliciting a moan from her lips. And then her concentration was all on Darcy again as he pulled her into his web, thrusting into her so fast, pushing her to a climax that rocked her entire foundation.

  Whitney blanked out for an entire ten seconds, lost in the desert, arms and legs entwined and bound with Darcy’s. Finally, with butterfly wings, Whitney sank back to earth, with Darcy’s perspiring forehead lying between her breasts. He was panting, trying to regain his energy, just like hers.

  “Darcy.” She called his name after some time, once the spell of the night had worn off and her rational mind started kicking in.

  She wondered what kind of face he would make now that they’d done the deed and he’d crossed the line.

  Darcy finally lifted his head and smiled a silly smirk at her, eyes shining with mirth,

  Whitney was floored. This wasn’t supposed to be his reaction. He should be scared, shaking in his boots, not smirking as if he’d been handed a Christmas present from Santa.

  “Wow. That was dynamite. Let’s do it again, Whitney, one more time. I want to see that Australian mole on your bottom again, and then we’ll sleep,” Darcy suggested with renewed enthusiasm.

  “What? No—”

  But her protest was like the wind in Darcy’s ear. In one side and out the other. Darcy was already kissing her again. And once his lips fell on hers, she knew her sanity was lost, once again under the spell of the night.

  And it was true. Darcy was sliding into her again, rocking her world until she gave him her everything. She gripped his shoulder, losing her hold when sweat glistened on his body as he pounded into her again and again. She held on to his neck tight, bracing for more delicious treats to come.

  Darcy was a true dominant in bed. Whitney had no qualms about it now. And for that she surrendered her white flag, letting him take her into a land filled with pink clouds and colorful rainbows, a place she called heaven.

  Chapter 11

  Darcy felt warm all over, soft heat radiating from his heart, his whole body spellbound. It was a beautiful feeling to be wrapped up in this warmth, like a wee butterfly about to break through the crystalized cocoon after metamorphosis.

  Darcy blinked his eyes open, smiled widely, and then cringed when the memories from last night came crashing into his skull. And now he wanted to weep. Badly.

  Oh shit! I slept with my boss. What have I done? I’m gonna die now.

  No, Darcy, you’re gonna be kicked out of work.

  Oh, I’m not gonna have any money to pay the rent.

  Darcy felt miserable, vulnerable, and scared. Now what was he going to do? He was in deep shit.

  Darcy could only blink rapidly, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation alive. He could sneak away while she was asleep. But that solution wouldn’t guarantee his job when he got back to work. Plus, they were attending the same wedding.

  Darcy blinked again, wiping his eyes to remove the crust in the corners, and braved a look at the witch, who should have been sleeping beside him now.

  And the memory of that wonderful feeling settled in his head again.

  It was a wonderful feeling, wasn’t it? Even though he tried to restrain himself from charging toward that red flag like a raging bull dripping with desire, that still didn’t stop the madness from overcoming his system and robbing his boss of her night of beauty sleep. All because she looked so damn adorable last night.

  Shit! It was the perfect one-night stand, one he would be willing to give another go. If only the recipient would feel the same.

  But he knew there would be consequences. And he’d better braced himself now.

  Or not.

  I’ll just pretend to sleep, and when I wake up, I’ll say I have amnesia and everything will go back to norm—

  Smack!

  A pillow hit him straight in the face, followed by, “Get up, Darcy. Don’t pretend you’re sleeping.”

  Oh God. This was the moment of truth.

  “Whitney.” He peeled the pillow slowly from his face, seeing his boss already dressed, black hair cascading down her back.

  Darcy swallowed. She did have a hot bottom. How many times did I get to squeeze that last—

  “Ow. That hurts,” Darcy yelled again when another pillow smacked him in the face.

  Whitney whipped her head around and glared at him. “Shut up! Don’t speak. Don’t spill a word to anyone at work. Do you hear?”

  Darcy could only nod. He was quite taken by his boss early this morning. She didn’t look like the witch from work at all. In fact, he was so caught up in the conversation in his head, he almost didn’t catch Whitney at the door until her hand was already on the doorknob.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To tell the front desk about our situation. We can’t stay in the same room like this.”

  Darcy jumped up, a confused frown on his face. “Why not? We’ve already done it.”

  Smack! Another pillow landed on his face.

  “All right, stop with the pillow throwing,” he growled, tossing the pillow to the side.

  Whitney marched to him, caught his chin between her finger and thumb, and lifted his face to meet hers. Darcy felt a smack of desire wash over him again. God, he wanted to sleep with his boss again. But the next words coming from her mouth had little Johnny hiding underneath the blanket.

  “You’re lucky it’s only a soft pillow. If I had a knife, I’d be throwing that in your direction. Even better, I’d hack off your little Johnny. And did I say don’t ever talk about what happened last night?” Whitney hissed, jabbing at his forehead. “Forget we did anything. Do you hear me?”

  Darcy was hypnotized by those mossy irises, so he only nodded meekly.

  Whitney snorted through her nose and turned to leave. “Now let me go.”

  Huh! Darcy didn’t even know he was holding her waist. He was so surprised he jumped right back.

  “Okay,” he nodded nimbly, shrinking back and letting Whitney go. When he realized what he’d done, he jumped off the bed and grabbed her waist again, thrusting her back against his hard chest.

  “Whitney, you can’t go.” He rested his chin on her head, arms folding to embrace that warm body he’d hugged and made love to last night. “Like I said last night, I’m poor. Please, don’t go.”

  Darcy knew he was embracing his boss like a lover. But what was more important was his quest to stop her.

  “Let go of me, Darcy,” Whitney barked. “Or do you want me to repeat what happened last night…?” She paused, tilting her head up to glance at Darcy’s face.

  Her cheeks went red when she met those hazel eyes. Her heart did a major thump in her chest.

  Last night, Darcy, her PA, took all the advantages. She was like rolled-up dough, whereas he was the rolling pin, kneading her until her limbs were all sore.

  Oh, the thought of last night caused her whole body to heat again. Who knew sex could feel so good?

  Is that why Clarice is always glowing?

  She smacked Darcy’s head with her knuckle to distract her lewd thoughts. And when Darcy was busy recovering from her attack, she ran out the door.

  He felt the bump on his head, but he raced after her anyway, forgetting about the pain. He was outside in the hallway when he saw Whitney heading toward the elevator. He made it in time, slipping in just a moment before the door closed.

  Whitney gaped when she saw Darcy in the same elevator. Her face reddened and she yelled at the top of her lungs, “Darcy, oh my fudge. Get back inside the room before anyone sees you.”

  Darcy was perplexed at his boss’ behavior. He stared down at himself, and—

  Shit! He was naked. Like a newborn baby. And little Johnny was hanging out for everyone to see.

  Or not everyone. He was alone with Whitney in the elevator. But they were travelling down to the ground floor, and when that elevator door opened, all hell would break loose.

  Darcy couldn’t imagine what people would say of him. He was a proud man. But he didn’t want pe
ople to accuse him of being a madman, running around naked in the Silverton. It would ruin his reputation and Hunter’s.

  Immediately, he crowded Whitney’s space, his eyes running across her body. “Give me your coat. Quick!”

  “What? No. Why should I?”

  “Because I’m naked,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “You’re not embarrassed to be standing next to a naked man?”

  Whitney pushed Darcy off her, but he came bouncing back to her side.

  “Please.”

  “No. Get off—”

  “Hello,” came an unknown voice.

  Whitney and Darcy froze, then turned their heads in sync to the direction of that unknown voice. Because they were so busy arguing, they’d neglected to notice the elevator door opening. Now both took in the third occupant in the elevator.

  Darcy scrambled to find a hiding spot. Finding none, he wedged himself in the corner of the elevator and dragged Whitney in front, using her body as a shield to hide himself and his lack of clothing.

  “On your honeymoon?” Said occupant was an elderly lady. She was stooping with a little hunchback. Large glasses adorned her small face, and white hair was tied into a bundle atop her head. Her companion was a walking cane.

  Whitney could hardly speak, but it was Darcy who responded right away, peeking from behind Whitney, hiding his naked self from view.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, his hot breath fanning Whitney’s neck. “My wife and I, we’re going out to find some breakfast.”

  “Lovely,” the elderly lady said, then got off on the next floor.

  As soon as the elderly lady departed, both Whitney and Darcy were at it again.

  “I can’t believe you used me as your shield.”

  “I had to. There was no other alternative. Now give me your coat.”

  “Argh,” Whitney growled and tossed her coat to Darcy.

  “Thanks. You saved my life.” Darcy quickly pulled on the coat. Because Whitney was shorter than him, it reached her knees. On Darcy, however, the garment barely reached his thighs.