Boss Love_Boss 3

by Victoria Quinn

  “I’m not asking for permission. I’m just telling you what my schedule is for the day.”

  More silence.

  “I don’t understand why you’re upset. Even if I weren’t seeing you, I wouldn’t sleep with him again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to. You’re the only man I want to be with.” I said that final sentence with more emotion than I meant to. It came tumbling out, like an avalanche down a cliff.

  Now his silence was different. It was calm, and not a calm before a storm.

  “After dinner, I’ll be home.”

  “You’re having dinner with him?”

  “Yes.”

  He growled into the phone this time.

  “Remember everything I just said.”

  “Baby, if I were having dinner with one of my supermodel exes, you would be even worse.”

  “Would not.”

  He laughed into the phone like my statement was completely unbelievable. “Bullshit.”

  “I might be a little bothered by it, but not the way you are.”

  He laughed again. “Whatever you say.”

  “I’m not attracted to a man who’s so insecure. You shouldn’t be jealous of anyone.”

  “I’m not insecure. I just don’t like my woman spending time with a man who clearly wants to fuck her—because he’s already fucked her.”

  “I’m not your woman—”

  “Yes, you are.”

  I got so angry that I didn’t know what to do next. So my fingers made the decision for me, and I hung up on him.

  Click.

  I set the phone down and sighed through my teeth, frustrated by the conversation. Hunt was jealous of Thorn, and now he was jealous of Connor, two men I wasn’t sleeping with. I admit I was a little jealous when I saw him with someone else, but not nearly in the same way. I went on about my day and tried to forget about the conversation altogether.

  * * *

  The shoot went well. I wore beautiful clothes that I would normally wear to the office, and I was photographed in poses that were rarely ever displayed. I took pictures in front of desks, in boardrooms, in front of expensive cars—in every way that projected my success. I wasn’t dressed in a short dress with my tits hanging out. Every outfit was classy, elegant. The images weren’t about sex.

  They were about power.

  A few hours later, Connor and I went to an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. He left his crew behind to develop the photographs and touch them up. Now it was just the two of us, talking about the clothes and the colors.

  “I love that black pea coat. When I made it with my bare hands, I immediately thought of you.”

  “It was beautiful.”

  “And paired with that purple handkerchief…the perfect splash of color.” He shook his head as his eyes took on a distant look. His thoughts seemed to rush by a million miles an hour. If I couldn’t keep up with him, then I doubted most people could. He wasn’t a photographer, but he controlled the shoot and set up most of the angles. “It’s just…” He held up his hands then slowly lowered them again. “Absolutely perfect. Those photos will be so powerful. It’ll change our perception of executive women, of fashion, of female power…that female strength is desirable…it is sexy.”

  “I hope the world views it in the same way.”

  “With photos as beautiful as these, they have to.”

  I suddenly thought of Hunt, wondering what he would think of my photos. He would probably love them, even in spite of Connor’s involvement. Hunt never called me back after I hung up on him. It was unrealistic to expect him to do anything after I’d pulled that stunt.

  Connor went on and kept talking about it, immersed in the process even though we were already finished for the day. He never talked about us hooking up again or even gave the slightest impression he’d been thinking about it.

  Hunt was jealous for no reason at all.

  When we finished dinner, we said our goodbyes on the sidewalk with a handshake, and I got into the back seat of my car. My driver took me back to Manhattan and to my penthouse. On the drive, I scrolled through the business news and came across something that made my stomach turn.

  Diesel Hunt spotted having dinner with ex, supermodel Paris Prescott. Are things heating up again? The couple had a short-lived romance three summers ago, and according to sources close to Hunt, he wasn’t ready to commit. But perhaps things have changed. Below the caption was a picture of the two of them having a quiet dinner in a fancy restaurant. They were both drinking wine, and Hunt was dressed in my favorite gray collared shirt—the one I wore to sleep sometimes.

  I felt something I didn’t expect. Rage.

  A lot of it.

  Venom flooded my mouth.

  I was so angry I didn’t know what to do with it.

  I knew this was a stunt to prove a point, but that just made me even angrier.

  I rolled down the divider between my driver and me. “Change of plans.”

  * * *

  The elevator doors opened right into his living room. “Diesel.” I walked inside and threw my clutch on the couch. He might not be home, still out on the town with Paris, and if that were the case, then I’d wait for him to walk through the door.

  So I could slap him in the face.

  Instead, he walked down the hallway in just his sweatpants, his perfect physique on full display for me to see.

  Paris better not have seen it.

  He wore an arrogant smile, clearly enjoying how angry the whole charade made me. “You look upset.” He walked around the couch and headed right toward me, his height towering above mine.

  “I can’t believe you pulled that stunt just to try to make me jealous. That’s absolutely pathetic, Hunt.”

  “Try to make you jealous?” he asked with the same grin. “You are jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous—”

  “Yes, you are. Your cheeks are redder than they are when you climax. Your eyes are like bullets, and I’m the target. You came all the way over here to give me a piece of your mind. Don’t act like your heart didn’t drop into your stomach the second you saw those pictures.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my hands shake with anger. When I pictured him spending the entire evening with an ex-fling, it did make me sick. What else was there to talk about besides the sex they used to have? “I only spoke to Connor about business, not screwing on my yacht.”

  “I never screwed her on my yacht.”

  “Whatever. The place doesn’t matter.”

  “Then why did you pick one?” he asked like a smartass.

  I didn’t want to look at him anymore. If I stayed, I would say something I regretted. “Good night, Hunt.” I turned around and headed back to the elevators.

  “Admit you’re jealous.”

  “No.” I hit the button and waited for the doors to open.

  He came up behind me, his face close to the back of my head. “Admit it, baby. I already know you are. I can’t remember the last time I saw you so angry.”

  “No.”

  His hands went to my arms, and he gripped me gently. “I asked her to dinner because I decided to do a commercial with her for Megaland. Beautiful women who love tech gadgets will drive up sales.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “And I’ve never slept with her.”

  My body stilled at that part.

  “The media thinks we had a thing a few years ago, but we didn’t. I was doing some private investing for her. I didn’t want anyone to know I was in that sector because that’s a conflict of interest. And since I don’t fuck my clients, nothing ever happened.”

  The relief washed over me, and then a second later, the embarrassment.

  He rested his forehead against the back of my head. “I don’t need to look at your face to know how much better you feel.”

  I closed my eyes, finally feeling better for the first time since I’d looked at that picture of them together.

 
; He kissed the back of my neck and wrapped his arms around my stomach. “You stormed into my apartment, expecting to see her here drinking wine on my couch while we swapped stories about our favorite sex positions…drove you crazy.”

  I felt stupid, but I also felt deceitful not being honest when the truth was right in front of me. “I was jealous…”

  He kissed the back of my neck. “Insanely jealous.”

  “Don’t gloat.”

  “No, I’m gonna.” His smile was in his voice. “But I like seeing you jealous. I like seeing you go crazy when you picture me with someone else. Exactly how I feel about you…”

  I slowly turned around and faced him, still keeping an angry face instead of showing my obvious relief. “But you have nothing to feel jealous about.”

  “You have even less to be jealous of. That didn’t stop you.” His large hands rubbed up and down my arms, his dark eyes sincere with emotions. “So let’s stop pretending that we aren’t fiercely possessive of each other.”

  “You only went out to dinner to piss me off. I didn’t see Connor just to make you angry. That’s the difference here.”

  “Alright, I’ll admit it was completely intentional.”

  “Then, what was I supposed to do? Blow Connor off? He was doing me a huge favor.”

  Hunt stared at me, his hands gently moving up and down. His eyes remained on mine, dark and sexy.

  “What was I supposed to do, Hunt?” I repeated.

  His hands stopped at my elbows. “Bring me along.”

  “And what kind of explanation could I give for your presence?”

  He moved farther into me, his forehead moving to mine. “The truth.”

  I stared at his lips as his hands gripped my elbows. The smell of his cologne was still on his skin, the scent he wore when he went to work and meetings. It usually wore off by the time he came home from work and rolled around in the bed with me. His sheets absorbed all of his natural smells, and that was the scent I liked. “You know I can’t tell anyone the truth, Hunt. They’ll think I’m two-timing, Thorn. No one will understand.”

  “Then break up with Thorn. Start seeing me instead.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense either.”

  “It doesn’t?” He pulled his face away and grabbed my chin. He lifted my face so I looked him right in the eye. “When this arrangement ends in a few weeks, you really think we’re going to be able to walk away from each other? Fuck other people without thinking about one another? That we’re gonna work together every day and not miss each other like crazy?” He looked at my lips again before he leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. It was a long kiss, a deep pause as our mouths came into contact with one another. I closed my eyes as the warmth spread through every inch of my body. “I’m not walking away. Neither are you.”

  * * *

  Hunt opened his closet and pulled out a white rope, the surface smooth and sleek. I could see the light bounce off the material, giving it a slight sheen. He wrapped it around his arm then walked toward me on the bed, looking like a cowboy with a lasso in just his black boxers.

  I sat there and stared, feeling my heart start to thump drastically in my chest. Ever since Hunt had been in charge, all of his tastes had been tame. He liked to control me, but he didn’t enjoy hurting me.

  I should have known that would change.

  I reminded myself that this was different, that I trusted Hunt as someone very close to me. He cared about me, always put me before himself. He was compassionate, understanding, and the closest friend I had.

  Once logic sank into my bones, I didn’t feel scared anymore.

  He stood in front of me, his ripped physique powerful and striking. He tested the rope in his hands, showing its obvious strength. “On your stomach.”

  I stared at the rope in his hands, drawing a blank. All I could do was sit and stare, thinking about that threaded rope tight around my wrists. I would be completely at his mercy, without any control whatsoever.

  He looped the rope then tugged on both ends, making it snap loudly. “Now.”

  I finally cooperated, turning over to lie on my stomach.

  “You’re forgetting something.”

  I knew exactly what. “Yes, Boss Man.”

  He grabbed my ankles and straightened my legs until they dangled over the bed. He secured the rope around my ankles, tying them tightly together so I couldn’t move unless I bent my knees. He took the rest of the rope and climbed on top of me. “Wrists.”

  I hesitated before I placed them at the small of my back.

  He secured them together, positioning me tightly enough that I couldn’t even move my elbows. I lay there with my cheek resting against the bed, waiting for whatever fun he wanted to have with me.

  Hunt pulled off his boxers and kicked them onto the floor. Then he held himself on top of me, pushing his fat cock between my ass cheeks. He ground against me slowly, moving through the soft flesh. He gathered the lubrication from my pussy and smeared it between my crack.

  I didn’t know what he was going to do, fuck my ass or my pussy.

  Knowing him, it was probably both.

  He hooked his arm underneath my chest and forced me up, arching my back and turning my face toward him. He kissed my jawline and made his way to my mouth. He kissed me softly, a direct contradiction to how roughly he gripped me now. “Tell me what you were thinking when you saw me with Paris.”

  My chest rose and fell against his arm. I felt his thick cock rest between my ass cheeks, twitching and throbbing as he yearned to fuck me good and hard. My bound wrists rested at the top of my ass, the rope rubbing against the small of my back.

  “Tell me.”

  “You were wearing my favorite shirt…that gray one I like to sleep in. I hated picturing her wearing it.”

  “What else?”

  “I wondered if she wanted to make a move…and if she would.”

  “And?”

  “I felt sick to my stomach… I felt so angry…so hurt.”

  He kissed my jawline again. “But I’m all yours, baby. The only woman I want is underneath me.” He nibbled on my earlobe before he let a hot breath escape into my canal. “Paris Prescott has nothing on you.”

  “You think so?”

  He kissed the shell of my ear. “I know so. But now I have to punish you for going to dinner with that asshole. The only man you eat with is me.” He released my chest and held his body on both arms.

  My chest lay against the bed, my cheek returning to the mattress.

  “Up.” His deep voice sounded in my ear.

  I raised myself up again, the small muscles in my back working to keep me upright.

  He kissed the back of my neck and dragged kisses down my spine. His beard brushed against my sensitive skin, scratching me in the sexiest way. His mouth moved to my shoulder, and he gently sank his teeth into me, giving me a playful bite.

  I closed my eyes and moaned.

  He pointed his cock at my entrance then slid inside, moving through my slick pussy until every inch was sheathed in my lubrication. “You’re always wet for me, baby.” He breathed right into my ear as he started thrusting, his hips bucking against my ass. Every time he moved, he slapped my ass with his body, making a loud clap. My hands instinctively pulled on the rope binding my wrists together, but they couldn’t shift even an inch.

  Hunt groaned in my ear as he fucked me, sliding in and out of my cunt. “So fucking good.” Every time he was inside me, he shoved himself as deep and hard as he could go, leaving his balls against my ass.

  I pulled on the rope because I wanted to grip his muscular thigh. I wanted to feel that powerful body on top of mine with my own hands. But the grip was too tight, and every time I moved, the rope dug deeper into me.

  He suddenly spanked my ass without warning, his large palm hitting with me surprising force.

  I lurched forward and released a small yelp of surprise.

  He rubbed my ass in apology afterward, massaging the tingling
skin. “Your skin reddens so easily…” He thrust inside me again, his mouth moving to my neck. He kissed the skin hard and sucked it, becoming more aggressive with me. Then he spanked my ass again, his palm twitching in the movement.

  I let out a moan.

  He switched hands and slapped my other cheek, hitting it just as ruthlessly as the other.

  I breathed through the pain, feeling the burn of both of my cheeks.

  Hunt fucked me harder now, grunting in my ear as he rocked the headboard into the wall. He slapped me again and again, spanking me for the crime I committed. The hits were always unexpected, and he stuck me hard and fast, not giving me gentle taps.

  My eyes started to tear up, the burning pain of my skin triggering my tear ducts.

  Hunt looked into my face, watching the tears roll. “Just ask me to stop, and I will.”

  “Never.”

  He pressed his weight further on top of me and fucked me hard and deep. He shifted his weight back and forth, making my clit rub against the sheets underneath me. He stopped spanking me, giving me a break long enough to come.

  And to come hard.

  I tried to suppress my scream, but it was no use. It came out loud and sharp, echoing in his large bedroom.

  Hunt’s husky voice came into my ear. “Say my name.”

  “Diesel.”

  He thrust into me harder.

  “Say it again.”

  “Diesel.”

  “Now say I’m your man.” He thrust into me harder, making the orgasm stretch on for a long time.

  I didn’t hesitate because I was high from the climax, enjoying all the sensations he gave me. “You’re my man…”

  He groaned into my ear as he came, filling my pussy with all of his come. He pumped into me like a hose putting out a fire. He gave me so much that it seeped out of my entrance immediately. “And you’re my woman.”

  * * *

  He came out of the bathroom with a jar of ointment. “Turn over.”

  I was on my back in bed, my ass still bright red from his smacking me so many times. “I don’t need—”

  “Now.”

  I had to be constantly reminded that we were playing by his rules now. If he wanted me to turn over, I had to cooperate. I pulled the sheets back and moved to my stomach. My wrists had light scratch marks from the ropes, but if I wore a long-sleeved blouse for the next few days, no one would notice the abrasions.