The Boss Me Series: Complete Billionaire Boxed Set Romance Books (1-3): (A Billioniare Steamy Romance Series)

by Brooke Kinsley

  "Okay," he finally says. "I'm in the bathroom."

  "Me too."

  "Not in class?" he asks.

  "Couldn't concentrate. Couldn't stop thinking about you. I need to hear your voice!"

  I'm rubbing myself furiously and gasping for air as I talk.

  "You're a naughty girl," he breathes. "Are you touching yourself right now?"

  "Fuck yeah," I breathe. "Tell me what to do. I'll do anything you say."

  His breathing intensifies. There's the sound of his zipper being torn open followed by a slight groan.

  "Are you hard?" I ask.

  "Harder than I've ever been in my life."

  "Will you touch yourself for me? I want to hear you come."

  "Jesus, Steph. This is so hot."

  "Just do it!"

  I sink two fingers inside myself and just when I think I'm about to come, the door to the bathroom opens and there are girls’ voices.

  "So, Naomi, are you going to the party tonight?"

  "I dunno. Maybe. Are you?"

  "I am!" a third voice chimes in.

  "Oh, my God," I whisper as quietly as I can, my fingers still pushed deep inside myself. "There are girls in here now. I'm going to cream myself and they're going to hear."

  "That's even hotter," he whispers back. "Are you close?"

  "So close."

  "Me too. I wish you were here."

  "I wish you were inside my mouth and I was sucking you hard."

  He lets out a louder groan and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a scream as I hit my g-spot.

  "Did you hear something?" One of the girls asks.

  "Don't think so," her friend replies.

  Meanwhile, I'm pounding my hand against myself, the sound of my wetness slapping off my lips getting louder and louder. I'm collapsing back against the toilet, my legs splayed wide with my jeans around my ankles.

  "I'd do anything to fuck you right now," I utter softly.

  "Imagine I'm there with you," he replies. "Close your eyes and fuck me."

  "Oh God..."

  "Are you feeling me?"

  "Uhuh..."

  "Imagine my hands around your neck, my cock up inside you."

  "Shit, Freddie. I'm coming."

  "That's it, come for me."

  "Ah!"

  "That's it. Fuck yourself harder."

  I can't hold it anymore and let out a scream.

  "Yes, Stephanie! Fuck. I'm coming!"

  "OH GOD!"

  I shake so hard the toilet beneath me wobbles on its hinges as I squirt, a long stream of juice flowing out of me and hitting the back of the door. It then puddles along the floor, soaking my backpack and the bottom of my jeans.

  Meanwhile, the girls are still just outside the cubicle, stunned into silence.

  "Naomi, I think we need to go," I hear one of them say.

  Then they're hurrying out into the hall and laughing maniacally, their shrieking voices echoing after them.

  "Freddie."

  "I'm here sweetheart."

  "That was incredible."

  He's struggling to breathe, his voice coming out in short, sharp bursts.

  "Best, orgasm, of... my life. Fuck. That was crazy."

  "I need to see you again soon," I say.

  "Tonight. I'll pick you up at seven."

  "I can't wait."

  Standing up, I realize my legs are still shaking and I stumble into the wall before correcting my balance.

  "I need to go," he says. "They'll be wondering where I am."

  "Okay... I'll be thinking about you. Bye," I say.

  After making a futile attempt at drying myself, I zip up my jeans and unlock the door.

  "Bye, sweetheart. Love you."

  And he hangs up.

  Wait. Did he just say he loves me?

  Chapter Eleven

  "I saw her again."

  "Who?"

  "Penelope," I reply while looking around the restaurant feeling hideously out of place.

  He purses his lips and tops up my glass with red wine.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, pretty damn sure. She spoke to me for ages."

  His eyes widen.

  "Really? At Knightswood?"

  "Yes! Where else would she be? She was parked outside Foxley waiting for you."

  "What?"

  He sits back and looks horrified before taking a mouthful of wine and swilling it around his mouth.

  "Why the hell would she do that?"

  "How am I supposed to know? She's your wife."

  I shake my head and take a sip of my drink before realizing I hate red wine. I have the strongest compulsion to spit it out over the table but manage to control myself and settle on swallowing it while holding my breath.

  "So you've not seen her?" I ask.

  "Apparently she's been calling the house. Xavier's been taking her messages but I'll be honest, I haven't returned them."

  "Any particular reason why not?"

  "There are lots but..." he drains his glass, "We didn't exactly part on good terms. I wouldn't relish the chance to see her again."

  "Is she trouble?"

  The look on his face tells me everything I need to know.

  "She has her problems," is all he says. “But I don’t like the sound of all this. Not one bit.”

  I push my wine glass away and look over to the table beside us. A mature couple is both eyeing up the tattoos on my calf, the one of the skull and crossbones.

  "I don't think I'm very popular here," I say, changing the subject.

  He looks over to the old couple.

  "What? Are those old timers putting you off? Don't worry about them."

  "Is it their first day out of the shire?" I joke. "I mean they've been staring at me as though I have two heads or something."

  "They'll be jealous that someone as smart and beautiful as you also has more class than them. Please, don't pay them any attention."

  I nod and resume pushing my fork into my steak that's so bloody I'm contemplating calling it an ambulance.

  "I've been thinking," I say. "About all the things you said about us having a lot in common."

  "And?"

  "And I think you're right. The more I think about it, the spookier it is. It's almost too much."

  "It does seem the gods have conspired in our favor," he smiles and raises his glass.

  "Pronoia," I say.

  "Hmm?"

  "Pronoia, the opposite of paranoia, when everything's going right and you're convinced people are conspiring for your success."

  "What a delightful mental impairment to have," he says as he slices into his own well-done steak that looks and sounds as tough as leather. "But you're right of course. I feel the same way too. It's almost fateful to have met you."

  My cheeks begin to burn with something that might be lust or embarrassment.

  "I have to ask you something. Earlier on the phone, you said..."

  "I said I love you. Yes..."

  He awkwardly lowers his head and laughs timidly.

  "Sorry about that. Erm... I don't know quite what to say."

  He's blushing too, laughing into his hand and he sheepishly averts my gaze.

  "Shall we agree it was a silly accident?" I suggest.

  "Sounds good," he says and glances over at the older couple who have moved onto complaining about another girl over the other side of the restaurant who, God forbid, is wearing a short skirt. “But it looks as though you’ve been thinking about something else too…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re pulling apart that napkin like you hate it. What’s bothering you?”

  He’s right. There is something bothering me but I’m not sure if it’s my place to say anything. I go for round two with the wine and take a tentative sip only to discover it somehow tastes even more disgusting than the first time.

  “I erm… well,” I stumble for the right words to say. “I’ll be honest, it’s a little daunting havi
ng your wife around, even if you are separated.”

  He dabs at the corners of his mouth and sets down his knife.

  “I feel just as uncomfortable as you do.”

  “But there’s a sadness to it too. She’s back here, reaching out for you and…”

  “And?”

  He knows what I’m getting at but both of us are too afraid to say it.

  “But she’s probably still grieving your little boy and has come back here for… I don’t know what she’s come back here for.”

  He thinks for a moment, frowning and staring down at his lap.

  “You’re a very perceptive girl, Stephanie and I really admire your maturity with this. God knows most girls would be green with jealousy. I’ll speak to her, I promise. I’ll see what’s really going on. Can’t have her parking herself outside your dorm, can we?”

  He leans over and links his fingers into mine, squeezing my hand tight and giving me a weak but reassuring smile.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  A beep comes from the deep recesses of my handbag. Leaning over to pull out my phone, I see I have a message from Alex.

  Hey, did you look her up?

  No. I’m out to dinner with Frederick. Do it later.

  I move to throw my phone back in my bag but before I do, it beeps again.

  Please, just do it now, quickly.

  “Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom,” I lie.

  “Don’t be long, beautiful.”

  He slides his hand up my thigh as I walk away and I edge my way past the judgmental couple, their nose upturned as they look at my shoes, my legs then the ink on my arms.

  Once in the bathroom, I’m surprised by the sight of the young, pretty blonde in uniform. She smiles as I enter.

  “May I help you?” she asks, running her hand over a box of luxurious perfumes and toiletries.

  “Oh, erm, no thanks. Just need the little girls’ room.”

  I scurry away and lock myself in the nearest cubicle, feeling strangely embarrassed by my first encounter with a restroom attendant. As I sit on the closed toilet, I follow Alex’s instructions and Google Penelope, wondering what could be so interesting. I imagine seeing a few celebrity blogs with juicy tidbits about her and Frederick. I imagine seeing some paparazzi shots of her in a bikini in the Bahamas or some boring article about a dress she’s been spotted in. But nothing prepares me for the heart-stopping deadlines that flash up on my screen.

  SOCIALITE PENELOPE MC INTOSH CLEARED OF SON’S MURDER

  PENELOPE IN HOT WATER AGAIN AS FAMILY LEFT BANKRUPT AFTER INSIDER TRADING SCANDAL

  “No…”

  I clap a hand over my mouth. This was not what I expected. Dashing out the cubicle, I’m surprised to see the attendant has gone and as I push my way out into the lobby, Frederick is waiting for me.

  “Freddie? What are you…”

  He pushes me back into the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh… I paid the attendant to take an early break,” he winks and smacks his shirt pocket where a wad of folded notes are protruding through the sheer fabric.

  “Someone’ll catch us,” I say.

  “What do I care?”

  He pushes me back inside the cubicle and locks the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Freddie," I have to say something.

  "Can it wait?" he stifles my words with kisses and begins to rip at the back of my dress. "Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't wait any longer. I've been staring across the table at you for hours. I can't wait any longer."

  "Wait," I say as I try to push him back but he's pushing me into the wall, lifting my dress up around my waist and thrusting his hand down into my wet panties.

  "Do you want me to stop?" he whispers in my ear.

  "No, I mean yes. I need to speak to you."

  "Shhh..."

  He massages me softly, my clit hot and sensitive in the palm of his hands.

  "Oh, God Freddie."

  My legs begin to weaken beneath my weight and I stumble in my heels.

  "You're ready," he says "Turn around."

  Grabbing my waist and spinning me, he pushes my face into the wall and grabs my ass hard. Then his hardness is pushing through my lips, sinking into my wetness. I bite down on my lip to stop myself screaming and edge myself onto him more an inch at a time until he's completely thrust inside me, the tip of his cock throbbing.

  "Fuck me," I say as I gasp. "As hard as you can."

  I can hear him take a deep breath behind me then feel his stiff fingers on my head. He thrusts once, hard and frantic so that the wall shakes slightly.

  "Ah! Again!"

  He drives into me one more time, this time harder so that for a moment my feet lift off the ground.

  "Again!"

  Waiting for a moment, I feel him shift behind me. I look over my shoulder and see him sweep a hand through his hair then clasp his hands over his eyes.

  "Ok?" I ask.

  "I just… need a moment," he says.

  "Don't wait," I reassure him. "Come on, fuck me."

  Pulling his hands away to look into my eyes, he searches my face for signs of hesitation.

  "Are you sure?" he asks.

  "Uhuh..."

  And to show how much I trust him, I push my own hands behind my back, relinquishing every ounce of power I have in my body. He takes my thin, pale wrists and pulls them tight until my shoulders begin to burn. I let out a gasp at the shock of the pain.

  "Do it!" I cry.

  He takes a deep breath and nods, then smiles wickedly, pushing himself into me as he takes over every inch of me. We move in a steady and desperate rhythm, trying to connect our bodies so closely there's no distinction between us, no separateness to our beings. He's thrusting harder, then harder until I almost feel tears come to my eyes but not with pain, but from the ever increasing intensity of emotion that's overwhelming me. I never want this moment to end. I want to simply disappear in the pleasure so that nothing exists but this very second and the heat between my legs. Just when I feel like it can't feel any better, he lets my wrists fall away and wraps his fingers around my throat. They’re so tight it feels as though I'm close to unconsciousness with my eyes flickering back in my head. The sound of the shaking wall drifts away and for the most fleeting of moments, I can taste the iron tang of red blood cells on my tongue. Then it all disappears and there's nothing but the explosion deep inside me as I feel my body let go completely and I climax harder than ever with my legs giving way and my heart skipping a beat.

  When his fingers eventually uncurl themselves from my throat, I realize we're both on our knees, panting and groaning with a puddle soaking the floor around us. I breathe hard, trying to regain the consciousness I was sure had disappeared. His arms are around me, holding me tight as he leans in behind me.

  "It's ok, you're safe," he breathes. "I got you."

  ~

  "I could sleep for a hundred years," I yawn as I rub at my eyes and grab hold of his hand.

  He's tipping the maître‘d and being every part the gentleman with everyone around us completely unknowing of what a feral creature he can be. I smile contently with the knowledge that only I know what he's like behind closed door. Stepping out onto the street, the wind picks up and whips at my dress.

  "That was incredible," he says. "I'm not sure if I need to sleep or have a cold shower."

  "Both," I say as I sidle into the passenger seat of his car.

  He turns to me and licks his lips, bopping me on the nose affectionately before saying.

  "Back to mine? The thought of having my big bed to myself seems horribly lonely."

  "Of course," I reply. "Beats staying in my dorm."

  He twists the key in the ignition and looks in the rearview mirror.

  "What the fuck?"

  His face blanches and his eyes widen.

  "What is it?"

  "It's..."

  I crane my neck and look out the back window. Penelope is walki
ng up behind us, the headlights from her car casting a beaming white aura around her body.

  "What's she doing here?" I ask.

  "I have no idea," he says, his eyes still fixed on her ever growing reflection.

  We both watch as she makes her way around to the driver's side and taps on Frederick's window.

  "Hello there, Freddie. Have you been hiding from me?" she asks with her signature smarmy smile.

  "I've obviously not been hiding very well," he replies dryly. "What are you doing here?"

  His eyes are fixed on her stomach, staring at it as though he doesn't quite believe it's even there. She flinches as though she's been slapped.

  "That's not a very nice way to welcome your wife back into the country. Anyway, I've been trying to get a hold of you."

  "I heard," he says through clenched teeth.

  It's then that she notices me in the passenger seat and narrows her eyes.

  "And you're out with a student. How... lovely."

  "I believe the two of you have met," Frederick says.

  Penelope and I stare at each other and, sensing the tension, he lets out a sigh.

  "Let's talk soon," he says. "But not now."

  "But Freddie..." she purrs, her demeanor changing in an instant.

  She slinks her hand through the window and strokes her finger down his forearm. I watch as the hairs on the back of his hand stick up and he pulls away.

  "Tomorrow," he says. "This isn't a good time."

  She scowls and pulls away.

  "Fine, you'd rather be out with this tart than spend two seconds with your pregnant wife!" she spits.

  "Penny! Enough. I'll speak to you tomorrow. I promise."

  Rooting herself to the spot, she glances between Freddie and me with fire in her eyes. Then she dramatically rests her hand on her stomach and looking weary, stumbles back in her heels on the cobbled streets.

  "Penny!" Freddie jumps out the car to help her.

  Catching her in his arms, she claws at him to bring him closer then looks over his shoulder, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

  "Oh, Freddie. I don't know what happened there. I just felt so dizzy and weak."

  He looks down at her bump and relents.

  "Okay, let me drive you home."

  Looking back at me, he shrugs apologetically.

  "I'll, erm, get a taxi," I say.