Bossy

by Kim Linwood

  God, yes, I do, but I can’t tell him that or there wouldn’t be room for the two of us and his ego. We’re just getting back to something resembling okay, and I don’t want to screw it up. Besides, with Michael’s blackmail hovering over me, I’ve got bigger things to worry about. So instead of admiring him, I turn away. “Let’s just get the painting done, alright?”

  “Oh, come on. Are you going to play shy with me? Babe, I’ve seen your ass from more angles than a protractor.”

  I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Nerd.”

  “Hey, I’m not just a pretty face.” A sound draws my glance. He’s unbuttoning his pants. Oh this is going to be difficult. I can’t help but peek while he lets his pants drop, revealing the toned length of his muscular legs. “The rest of me is pretty too.” He looks up quickly, catching me watching and grins. “See? There you are.”

  I shake my head. “Nope! I’m just here to paint. I told you, I’ve got somewhere to be afterwards.” I dip my roller in the tray and pointedly start applying it on the opposite side of the room from him.

  He doesn’t take the hint, appearing next to me with nothing but a paint roller and his briefs. I try to remain unaffected by the fact that he’s nearly naked, but it’s hard when he’s so close. “So what, are you going on a date? Are you messing around on me, Claire?” His voice is light, but I get the feeling my answer is important to him.

  “None of your business.” I move down the wall away from him, starting a new patch of deep red.

  Of course he follows. “What if I wanted it to be?”

  My heart jumps. “Are you asking me out?” Please say no. Please say yes.

  “No, of course not.” He laughs, and I’m relieved, mostly. “I’m speaking purely hypothetically.” For a while he paints quietly next to me, then he stops. “You know, I bet I’m—hypothetically—a lot more fun. I bet the other guy wouldn’t stand next to you painting in just his underwear, looking fucking fantastic.”

  I sigh. Mostly because he’s right. There’s nothing hypothetical about Declan being better and more fun than Michael. They aren’t even in the same league. Besides, he’s taller than me, and every time I paint downwards, it’s impossible to not sneak a peek at his bulge. Which does actually look fucking fantastic. “None of your business.”

  He mimics my voice. “None of your business. You can do better than that. Where’re your biting replies, huh? Your witty repartee? We’re going to be here for several hours. Might as well make the most of it.”

  “I just want to get this done, Declan. I think between the weekend and today, my brain is going to be pickled from the fumes.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose. It’s almost too bad we have to re-paint. For what it’s worth, if I wasn’t on the receiving end of all this? I would have laughed my ass off. You’ve set the new bar.”

  “You’re not pissed?” I don’t like comparing them, but Michael would have been furious at me for weeks, if not forever. He can’t stand being the butt of any sort of joke.

  Declan chuckles, his six-pack flexing. “When I walked in? Oh holy shit yeah. When I saw that dipshit Cooper lose it, and I was sure the whole contract had just gone down the crapper and my career with it? Fuck, I wanted to strangle you, but he’s the one who tipped me over the edge. Piece of shit, no respect, limp-dicked little rat.” He stops and takes a deep breath, letting it back out slowly “But you, you get an A for execution. It was fucking perfect. Did you seriously do all this yourself?”

  I can’t help grin a little. “I’ll never tell.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Fucking Carl.”

  “You don’t know that! You can’t say anything!” The last thing I want to do is get Carl in trouble too.

  He smirks at my panic. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. He’d be an idiot not to help you with a plan like this.”

  “Well, glad you approve.” I give him a little bump with my shoulder. When he’s like this, he’s almost likeable. It’s no wonder my feelings are all mixed up. Still, what Carl said the other day was true. Declan can barely admit to feelings other than lust, and I want more than that.

  Right?

  For a while we manage to paint together in surprisingly comfortable silence. Then he inches closer, almost literally painting me into a corner. “You know,” he starts, “It would be a shame if you got paint on that nice dress.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m sure you’re really concerned about my clothes.” I roll my eyes and keep painting.

  He moves closer. “Alright, no actually. I just want to see you naked, or as close to it as I can get. Fuck, look at the show you’re getting.” He gestures at himself. “Fucking great, right? The least you could do is give me a little in return.” With a flex for emphasis, he twists his body to show himself off.

  “Modest much? I’ve seen it all before.” I turn away so he won’t see me blushing. I’ve seen it, touched it, licked it and God help me, if I keep looking at him I’m going to want to do it all again. Just thinking about it is already getting me all hot and bothered. “If you want to get naked, that’s your business. I’m keeping my clothes on, thank you very much.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Duly noted.” A short pause, and then he shifts even closer, standing right next to me. I can smell his aftershave, and feel the heat from his skin. He’s still painting, but it’s on top of what I just painted. I arch a brow at him. “You know, I already covered that bit.”

  “Oh really?” He makes it sound like he hasn’t even noticed. “You’re so blindingly beautiful that it’s hard for me to concentrate.”

  “Of course.” I can’t help smiling at the compliment. “If I’m so distracting, maybe you should work over there instead.” With a gesture, I shoo him away.

  He doesn’t bite. “That’s a nice outfit you’ve got on, lady.” His tone’s like a bad movie mafioso. “It’d be a shame if something should, you know, happen to it. I’m not a bad painter, but accidents happen. Just saying.”

  I’m too amused to really be angry. “Are you threatening my dress? This is extortion!”

  “Hey, now. That’s your word not mine. I’m just being neighborly and showing my concern.” He waves his roller for emphasis.

  I jump out of the way, laughing nervously. “Put that down!”

  “Is that really what you want?” Declan takes a step closer, and the tension in the air starts to crackle between us. “Tell me you wouldn’t rather be naked with me. Tell me you aren’t picturing it right now.”

  My tongue darts out between my lips, and in my head I’m doing exactly what he wants and loving every minute of it. My life is so complicated right now, but...

  We’ve already crossed that line, twice even.

  How much more complicated could one more time make it?

  Claire

  Biting my lip, I reach behind to unhook the top of my dress. The hungry look on Declan’s face makes my fingers shake, but I manage it finally. We watch each other in weighty silence, his eyes on my face, studying my reactions. I almost wish he was just looking at my legs or my breasts, because this feels more intimate. He’s not just after my body. He’s focused on me.

  Pushing that confusing thought aside, I slide my zipper down, splitting the dress open behind me. With a deep breath, I let my dress fall off my shoulders.

  The soft fabric slides smoothly over my skin, catching on my hips. I wiggle to get it off, self-conscious about the extra jiggle my donut habit has contributed to my figure. My dress lands in a pool around my feet, before I pick it up and drape it over the couch. I’m acutely aware of his eyes following me as I move.

  “Much better.” His voice is oddly breathless and his—oh God, he’s getting hard. His cock lengthens and makes its presence known, tenting his tight, black boxer briefs.

  I snatch up my roller, holding it like a sword between us as he takes a step towards me. “Hey, I only agreed to take my dress off. We have an office to paint. It was t
he practical choice.”

  He doesn’t stop. “A little paint never hurt anyone.” With a grin, he wraps his fingers around my wrist, pushing the roller up and out of the way. “It’ll get done... eventually.”

  I back up, but my arm hits wet sticky paint on the wall behind me and I realize he has me trapped. I can’t lie. I do want this, but it makes me nervous. He makes me nervous.

  Declan moves until he’s so close his bare torso brushes against my breasts. He puts a red-stained finger under my chin and angles my head up. I have to lean towards him just to keep my hair from getting stuck in the paint. He’s right there, lips so close it would only take the smallest movement to bring us together.

  He kisses me, and I forget all about the paint. He presses closer, the hardness in his briefs a burning brand against my stomach. A low needy sound rumbles in his chest, and he grabs the back of my head, crushing me to him, his other hand slapping against the wall behind me for support.

  The roller drops from my fingers, leaving a red streak across his thigh. Reaching up, my fingers twine into his unruly hair, gripping it and pulling him closer while our lips press against each other.

  I walk him backwards, away from the wall, and his hands trail down my sides until they slide around the curves of my ass. I can only imagine the burgundy streaks they must be leaving in their wake. His strong fingers dig into my flesh and I grind against him, my underwear growing wet and sticky, but not from the paint.

  I gasp into his mouth as our bodies meld. A moment ago I was nervous about my lack of clothes. Now it feels like we’re both wearing way too much.

  My hand cups his bulge. “These are very nice briefs.” My words come out as a whisper.

  He laughs softly, then answers teasingly, “Yeah? Do you think something might happen to them?”

  “It would be a shame.” I slide a finger into the slit at the front, making him hiss with pleasure as I stroke him skin to skin.

  We’re both going to be covered in streaks of paint, but I don’t care. There’s something primal about visually leaving my mark on him, and knowing he’s claimed me right back. Like he’s reading my mind, he paints a stripe around my throat, collaring me in red. Marking me as his.

  A quick movement and he wraps a fist firmly around my hair and tugs, making me gasp. He leans back in, and when his lips touch mine, I meet his questing tongue with my own. My bra goes slack as he unlatches it, pushing my straps down one side at a time

  He pulls away, and my arms relax, letting him take my bra with him. Standing there topless, I feel awkward again. I raise an arm to cover myself up, reaching for him with the other so he’s too close to see me on display. The lights are too bright, and my breasts are too soft, and—

  “Fuck, you’re sexy.” He breathes the words in reverence, like he’s looking at a masterpiece. He caresses me with his eyes as he looks me up and down. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.” His voice is raw, honest.

  I believe him, because I can barely remember it now.

  My arms drop to my sides, and I wish I could see myself like he sees me. He’s so perfect, and I’m so... me. It doesn’t seem fair.

  Lifting his gaze, his stormy blue eyes lock with mine. They draw me in, like inescapable whirlpools. He smirks, then hooks his thumbs in his briefs. His huge cock is so hard he has to adjust himself to get the underwear past, but then he pulls them off and stands in front of me completely naked.

  Suddenly, his eyes aren’t the only thing I find inescapable. My mouth goes dry, all the moisture apparently moving south.

  “Eyes up here, babe.” He laughs.

  I ignore him, licking my lips and taking a step closer. He looks hard as steel, the tip just barely glistening. I want to taste him. The last time, he took charge. This time, I want to run the show. My smirk isn’t nearly as well practiced as his, but I give him one anyway before I step forward and shove him back with both hands.

  He stumbles backwards with a chuckle, letting me push him right up to the wall. The paint’s fresh behind him, payback being a bitch. He obviously doesn’t care, grinning like he just won the lottery as I sink to my knees in front of him.

  “Oh, fuck yeah.” He lets it out like he’s been holding his breath.

  Wrapping my fingers around him, I slide my fist slowly up and down, feeling his pulse beat against my palm. His breath comes faster as he watches me lean forward, sticking out my tongue.

  Barely, just barely, I touch the tip to the ridge where the crown meets the shaft, running it along the sensitive edge. His sharp intake of breath tells me I’m on the right track.

  It’s strange. This might be the first time where I’ve felt that I’m the one in control and he’s at my mercy. Looking up, I find his eyes lightning focused on my every move. I smile, and run my tongue a full circle around him. He rewards me with a throaty groan. I want to drive him crazy. To bring him so close he loses control. I wonder if he’ll let me.

  I palm his balls with my other hand, giving a teasing squeeze, not hard, but enough that he tenses up. I laugh softly, stroking carefully, loving the soft texture in one hand and the hard in the other.

  Kissing softly, I make my way up to the very tip, lapping up the clear drop that’s just come out. A little salty, a little musky, and all him. I swirl my tongue around one last time before I take the head between my lips. Pushing, I sink onto him until he presses against the back of my mouth.

  Declan moans and loses focus for a moment, his ass pressing against the wall before he remembers he has to watch out if he doesn’t want to end up well and truly painted. God, I love this. Forcing him to balance between control, and completely letting go.

  He tries to push deep, but I’m running the show, and I tease him, stroking his shaft with my hand and sucking on the head like a lollypop. It’s sloppy and noisy, but the way I feel him swelling and from his raspy breath, he must love the show, because he sounds like he’s getting close.

  His hands slide into my hair, pulling my ponytail apart and making fists, gripping me possessively. He lets me do what I want for now, but it’s a potent reminder that I’m only in charge for as long as he lets me. It just makes me love it more, that this brash and bossy man can step back and hand over the reins.

  The gentle thrust of his hips turns harder, more insistent, and his grip tightens. He moans as I move faster, trying to match his pace, wanting to feel and taste him come.

  Suddenly, he holds my head in place and I relinquish control as he lets out a throaty groan and fills my mouth with his essence. I take it all, swallowing greedily. He groans and pulses over and over, while I keep stroking until he relaxes his grip. Easing back on my haunches, I look up at him, grinning in both satisfaction, and amusement at the mess we’ve made of each other.

  He looks at me, expression relaxed and almost tender. “Remind me to paint with you more often.”

  I turn my head and rest it against his thigh, hiding my blush. “I suppose we should get back to work now.”

  He chuckles. “Oh, no fucking way. You don’t think I want my turn?" He grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet.

  “You just had your turn.” I laugh and step away, practically daring him to chase after me. “And there’s so much left to do.”

  “Damn straight there is.” Declan pushes me into his leather desk chair. “Like making you scream so loud the ceiling comes down.” He kneels and grabs my panties, tugging them down my hips and off my legs.

  “Declan!” My voice is a harsh whisper. “There are tons of people out there!” I laugh and try to get back up. “I’m going to ruin your chair.”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” Gripping the backs of my thighs just above my knees, he pushes me open until he can hook my legs over the arms of the chair. “Besides, you apparently didn’t notice that I locked the door.” He grins while he slides his hands slowly up the insides of my thighs and leans forward. “It’s a little late for caution, don’t you think?”

  “I know, but—” A
ny argument I have is forgotten when he kisses me right on my mound, then slides his tongue briefly between my folds.

  Oh God.

  I desperately try to gather my thoughts while he scatters them to the wind with his hungry mouth. It’s a tug-of-war I’m destined to lose, and when I do, it feels like winning.

  He must sense me relax and give myself over to the sensations. “That’s my girl,” he says before flicking me right over my throbbing clit.

  I’m not so far gone that hearing him call me his girl doesn’t give me a twinge of both pleasure and pain. I’m not, not really, but for right now I’m willing to pretend. “Shut up and lick me.”

  Declan laughs, wasting no time. His tongue is broad and thick as it stabs into my wet core with eager strokes. My thighs quiver in his hands, muscles tightening while he sends me higher and higher.

  I try not to make too much noise while he drives me crazy, but if anyone’s outside the door, there’s no way they don’t hear my gasps and moans. The sensations ratchet through me, and I throw my head back, clenching my teeth so I won’t scream.

  He slips a finger into me, and I’m so swollen that it feels much longer and thicker than it probably is. A second finger stretches me, and I can’t take it anymore. My vision turns white as my back arches. My toes curl and I grab his shoulders tightly. When my climax breaks, it’s like being torn apart and scattered to the corners of the earth.

  It steals my breath away, which is the only reason I’m not bringing the ceiling down like he said. He doesn’t stop, working me like a starving man until I’m reduced to a whimpering puddle of nerves. I’m almost painfully sensitive, but he’s determined to draw me out as long as possible, and I let him, trusting Declan to take care of me.

  Something is shifting between us, and it terrifies me. It’s easy to trust him with my body, but I can’t trust him with my heart. I’m afraid that if I keep coming back for more, I won’t be able to walk away when the time comes.