The Boss Crush

by Penny Wylder

  What universe did I wake up in today?

  My eyes drift up to his, connecting for a single breath as he drives his mouth onto mine and kisses me hard and deep. His tongue slips between my lips, tasting and licking me in ways no boy ever has.

  Tingles start to form in new and untouched places. They zip down my legs, making my toes curl in my shoes. I need to hold myself down, to ground myself so I don't start to float away.

  Clutching the outside of his arms with my fingertips, I hold on tight. I hold on so the wind can't capture me and blow me away. I hold on because I need to feel that this is real. I hold on because I don't know if I'll ever get to touch him this way again.

  His hands move through my hair, gripping my nape and tugging my head back slightly. Every inch of my body is buzzing, the sensation billowing out from every pore. My skin is hot and cold all at the same time.

  I want to shut my eyes just like he's doing, and follow his lead, but I'm afraid if I do, I'll wake up and this dream will end.

  I can taste him, sweet and salty, his cologne envelops me. And all of it is amazing, overloading my system, and I can't think straight.

  Wow, oh wow. He's such a good kisser! Am I doing this right?

  Tilting my head more, I'm trying to mimic his kiss when blue and red lights flash in the night, and I hear the chirp of a siren.

  Kids start to dart around us, running by in blurs in my peripheral vision.

  Lyle pulls away quickly, his face more than enough to know something is wrong. “Shit,” he says. “It's the cops. Go, get out of here.” He pushes me toward the darkness on the opposite side of the yard and runs the other way.

  “Wait. . . What?”

  “Go, Dalia! Go! I need to go find Sandy, just get out of here!”

  I stand still for a second, taken back that even after her hurtful words, after he had to step in and stop her from doing any more damage, he still feels the need in his heart to keep her safe.

  That says a lot about who he is. He’s more than the self-centered jock with only football and pussy on his mind.

  And it only makes me like him more.

  My feet start to take off, but I stop in my tracks. Kira. . . Whipping my head toward the backyard, I run around the side of the house, and as luck has it, Kira is flying out the sliding glass doors.

  “Oh, thank God, Dalia,” she says between breaths as she grabs my arm. “Come on, we’ve got to get the hell out of here.” She glances right to left, and back to the left again. “This way.”

  With her hand wrapping my wrist, she drags me through the backyard and into a thick set of bushes. Ducking down, she pulls me down beside her.

  “Get low, as low as you can.”

  We lay on our bellies and push ourselves as far back into the bushes as possible. Voices start to spill in from every direction. The police are yelling at the kids they catch, grabbing them by their collars as they try to run by.

  Kira and I wait quietly, giggling and trying not to shake the bushes as we laugh. This is a story I'll have for the rest of my life.

  The night I finally kissed my crush. The night he kissed me back. And the night I hid in a bush for two hours until the cops finally left and it was safe to go home.

  I know this is going to be one of those moments I'll always look back on, one that changed me, and gave me the confidence to finally go out there and get what I want.

  Because it's clear to me after tonight. . .

  I'm not the only one who knows what they want.

  3

  Lyle

  Present Day

  “We'll talk soon,” I say, shaking my new client's hand with a smile. Walking him to the door, I point him in the direction of the front desk and send him on his way.

  It's the repetition that's saving me. Having done this so many times over the years means I don't even have to think about it anymore. It's second nature.

  Smile. Handshake. Nod.

  Smile. Handshake. Nod.

  That's all I have to make this meeting seem normal.

  Standing in the doorway, I watch him until he rounds the corner, and disappears out of view. Walking back to my desk, I fix the stack of papers, tapping them against the surface, and slipping them back into the folder.

  I'm trying to focus on anything I can that isn't—her.

  But she's there, sitting right in the front of everything, and I can't get her out of my head. Those fucking eyes. Her long legs. Her perfectly kissable lips. I'm getting hard just thinking about her.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Pausing, I hold the thin edge of the folders against the table, staying very still. I'm trying to convince myself that she's not the girl I've dreamt about for years.

  Victor, one of our IT techs is passing the door, causes me to lift my head. He looks inside and gives me a small smile with a wave.

  Giving him a head nod, I call out to him, “Victor, don't forget I need the newest version of the PicTrans program uploaded on every computer in this office by the end of the day.”

  He stops short, tipping his head back to answer. “You got it, Boss. Consider it already done.”

  “Thanks, we really need it for this new project we're starting Monday.”

  Everything on the outside seems normal. I'm doing my job, I'm bringing in new clients, creating advertising and social media plans, and making sure everyone is happy on both ends.

  But inside, inside I'm a fucking mess.

  Dalia Greene is back in my life. She's here, and now I can't fucking think straight. I thought I was stronger than this. I convinced myself that I'd be able to handle seeing her again without an issue. I even thought that maybe it was a typo and a stranger would walk in that door.

  But the fact that I can't stop thinking about her is proving me wrong. It is Dalia Greene, and she's just as gorgeous as I remember.

  Her hair is still long, with those same bright, red highlights. The green in her eyes is still explosive, bursting with specks of gold. Even from across the room, it's easy to see her thick lashes sweep over her eyes with every blink.

  Except, there's something about her that's different. She has this aura around her I've never seen before. I know what it is, and it's sexy as hell on her. Confidence.

  The shyness is gone, and she holds herself taller, with a bold and undeniable spark I could feel even standing across the room from her. The meek little vixen I remember is now a strong woman.

  And her fucking body, I'm lucky my jaw didn't hit the floor the second I laid eyes on her. Curvy and thick, her figure can bring any man to their knees.

  Dalia isn't the teenage girl I've seen in my dreams. She's come back, and now she's all grown up.

  I kept stealing glances of her heart shaped face, her eyes, her beautiful hands. I've always loved her hands, there's something about them. They create such amazing things, such incredible, beautiful things.

  I also couldn’t help stealing something else. A glance of her perfect, lick-worthy tits when she leaned over. That small glimpse sent blood rushing to my cock. I was hard instantly, so hard it practically hurt.

  And I almost fucking kissed her.

  Everything in that moment meant nothing; not the job, not the risk of someone seeing us, not even the fact that I'm her boss. I ignored all of it, ready to finish what we started all those years ago.

  Touching my lips softly, I close my eyes, wishing I hadn't pulled back. Regret washes over my body, and all I can picture are her sexy, pouty lips. I see her eyes, the way they were looking up at me. All those stolen moments between us, past and present.

  I should have fucking kissed her.

  There's no way I could have expected my body to react the way it did. The pull is strong, the desire so heavy I'm not sure how long I'll be able to control myself around her. It's primal, like she's awoken a beast inside me.

  I've never felt like this before. Not with any other woman. Not one of the girls I've dated since high school up to now has ever turned me on the way Dal
ia did today.

  When Sandy sent me the list of potential new hires, Dalia Greene is the last name I thought I'd see. Yet, there she was, her information typed up all neat and organized, her art portfolio more incredible and amazing than I remember.

  Her art is mind blowing. Even when we were younger, her talent was always way above everyone else, even my sister. I'd never tell Sandy that, but it's obvious to anyone who takes the time to look.

  I was positive Sandy was up to something, because there's no way she'd actually hire Dalia in a million years. What kind of trick was she playing? What did she have up her sleeve? I put Dalia's name on the top of the list, positive that my sister would call me out on it.

  Then Sandy proved me wrong. She did the exact opposite of what I thought. She hired the girl I've never forgotten, and the one she loved to torture. This could still be a game to her, one she's keeping from me.

  Sandy's always been good at tearing people down. She's no stranger to hurting others to get what she wants. This company didn't just happen from good fortune. And I'm not proud to say I've seen it firsthand.Sandy's always been the type of person who never really sees you, she hardly ever sees anyone. If you're not an obstacle in her way that she has to knock down, then you’re just gunk on the bottom of her shoe. You'll never be on her radar.

  Dalia's been off her radar for years. Sandy probably forgot all about her the day we graduated.

  Now she's back, she's here. Dalia Greene is no longer a ghostly memory.

  I really thought I could handle seeing her again, I honestly did. Obviously, I can't. Just the thought of her turns me on. She makes my skin hot and my stomach tight.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Speak of the devil. . . “Hey, San, what's up?” I ask as I keep packing up the stuff from meeting.

  She takes a single step into the room. “Well, how'd it go with Mr. Fergeson? Did he like your pitch?”

  “How do you think it went? You know when I'm on this stuff it gets done right.” Gathering the small stack of folders, I tuck them in my briefcase. “We got the contract to do all the advertising and graphics for his new sneaker campaign through next year.”

  “Nice job,” she says halfheartedly, not really caring at all about the outcome. Her eyes are dull, lacking any real interest. I know that look, it's the look she gives when she really doesn't give a shit. “Listen,” she goes on to say immediately, “I want you to put the new girl—what's her name again?”

  “Dalia.”

  She really doesn't remember her. My sister is so single minded. She only focuses on herself.

  “Right, Dalia. I want her on this campaign.” Sandy leans against the door, picking at the bed of one of her nails. She isn't even looking at me anymore. “Let's throw her in headfirst and see if she can swim.” Holding out her hand, she twists it back and forth, examining her nail polish.

  “And if she can't?”

  Her eyes float up to mine, her expression flat as she shrugs a shoulder. “We fire her ass. What else would we do? We wouldn't keep someone who can't even float, Lyle.”

  Arching a brow, I angle my head. “Just like that? Fire her after one project? No second chances, no time to adjust. Really, Sandy?”

  “Yeah,” she says, darting her eyes up to mine, and dropping her hand down weightlessly. “Just like that. Why? You have a problem with my decision?” Folding her arms over her chest, she gives me the look.

  It's the same look our mother would give us when we were kids, the same look she's given me for years if I challenge her or don't agree with her. Her eyes squint hard, astute, and icy. Her brows crinkle and drop, causing sharp lines across her forehead.

  “Sandy, come on. It just seems like basing the decision to fire someone off their first project isn't really fair. Why don't we give her something easier to start with, give her a little time to settle in before we challenge her? I mean, what's the point of hiring someone just to fire them a week later?”

  Impatience fills her eyes like angry weeds, causing her head to fall heavily to her shoulder. “There's no point in wasting time and money on someone who sucks, Lyle, it's as simple as that. Put her on the Fergeson campaign, and fire her if she can't hold her own.”

  She leans back on the sharp point of her heel and spins out the door. Lazily, she waves an arm in the air, and says, “You know what needs to happen, you don't need me to keep reminding you. Take care of your shit, Lyle, I'm going to lunch.”

  Sitting down at my desk, I press the pads of my fingers to my lips, and sigh. My eyes drop to the intercom, knowing I have to call Dalia in, and tell her about the change to her schedule.

  You're her boss. Remember that!

  This shouldn't be hard, but it is. I don't want to give her a task that my sister is willing to fire her over if it isn't perfect. And that's what Sandy expects; perfection.

  It isn't fair, and I really don't like the thought of it. She just got here, let me enjoy her some before sending her away.

  Pushing the button, I say, “Giada, can you please send Dalia to my office?”

  “I'll call her now, Mr. Vox.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I rake my fingers through my hair, and close my eyes. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slow.

  Don't let her get to you, stay in control!

  Opening my eyes, she comes around the corner at the same time. My dick throbs just seeing her, pulsing and hungry for a taste.

  Damn it, I'm not sure how I'm going to keep myself in control. So much for staying in control.

  Her shapely curves are accentuated by her dress. It hugs her hips, fitting tightly around her tits, and pushing them up so her cleavage is busting out the top.

  The buttons down the center bulge, threatening to snap off. She fumbles with her hands at her waist as she stands in the doorway.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  She looks nervous.

  The idea is exciting, sending another surge of heat to my cock. Maybe she's nervous because she's thinking about the kiss that almost was. Or maybe she's thinking about how badly she wishes I had made a move.

  Biting my bottom lip, I tug it in and smile. “Come in and take a seat. I want to talk to you about something.”

  Timidly, she moves to the chair and sits. We're both quiet. I'm letting whatever she's thinking fester for a bit. Her thighs are rubbing back and forth as her hands keep clasping and opening around the arms of the chair.

  Her eyes jump around all over. They're on my face, the ceiling, on the floor, and on the pictures on the wall. They don't stay in one place for long.

  Finally, I rest my elbows on the desk and ask, “Do you know who Dylan Fergeson is?”

  She thinks for a second, then shakes her head. “No, actually, I don't.” Her hands fall into her lap, weighing down the fabric of the dress. I imagine the outline of her panties, the thin straps that wrap her hips and convene as a single strip up over her pussy.

  My dick jerks in my pants. She's breathing hard, breaths short and rapid as she waits for me to speak again.

  “Well, he's looking for our help on a new project, and I want you on it. I just had a meeting with him, and we’re signed on to do all the graphics for his sneakers.” She tilts her head, listening more intently. “I'm assuming you've at least heard of D Sneakers?”

  “Are you serious right now? You want to put me on the campaign for D Sneakers? The D Sneakers?”

  Nodding, I smile. “Dylan Fergeson, D himself, just left a little while ago, and we start Monday.” Holding out my hands, I ask, “So, what do you think? Think you can handle it?”

  I smirk, veering my stare, and making sure she sees my eyes move down her body. I hope she gets the double meaning. And I hope she gives it back.

  She swallows, and I watch her neck bob as she licks her lips. Her lush lips look dewy and velvet soft. My mind starts to picture them around my cock. I can picture it clear as day. Her mouth forming an O as she sucks my crown into her mouth and her cheeks hollow.

  Fuck
, she's killing me.

  “I know I can handle it,” she says easily, her voice clear and solid.

  Clearing my throat again, I shift in my seat. “Good, we start Monday then.”

  “Thank you, I really do appreciate this job, and you letting me take part in such a big campaign—”

  Holding up my hand, I stop her from speaking. I don't want her kissing my ass, I want to fuck hers. Dipping my head into my chest, I smile. “If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.” Winking, my lips curl to one side. “Really, anything you need. I'm here.”

  Her eyes blaze with understanding, and my chest burns as I see her lick her lips and cross her legs. She doesn't blink at all, her eyes imploring as she lifts her chest higher. Pebbled nipples poke out from under her dress, drawing my eyes down.

  Is she doing this on purpose? Does she want me to look?

  If she's trying to make me want her, it's working.

  “I'll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes out smooth and clear. “Is there anything else?”

  There is actually. . . I'm going to fuck you until you scream. I'm going to bend you over my desk and fuck you until you come all over my cock.

  “No, that's all,” I say, my thoughts a hidden layer in my words. “I'll have Giada send you the details for the sneaker campaign.”

  Dalia tips her head and leaves my office. I watch her go, unable to walk her out because I'm hard as a rock and tenting my pants. My dick is firm, my balls are tight, and my muscles are pulsing with need.

  My cock hurts it's so hard. Standing up, I walk around my office, trying to get it to go away, but it's not working. I need to take care of this raging hard-on.

  Closing the door to my office, I lock it, and flip the shades down on my windows. Sitting at my desk, I pull my cock out, relieving the tension. But my dick is still throbbing, and the tip is swollen.

  Gripping my shaft, I close my eyes and all I see is Dalia. Her perfect tits, her plump ass, her wet lips. My mind runs wild with dirty thoughts, imagining her mouth wrapping my cock, and her tits in my face.