Romance: The Boss (4 page)

Chapter Eight

The mysterious suit and I shift into the center of the bed, his eyes surveying my body like a conqueror on a new land.

As he kisses me again he unbuttons my bra with one hand, cupping each breast softly before his mouth pulls away from mine, traversing down to my now-exposed nipples.

He engulfs each one skillfully, prodding and swirling them with his tongue like he knows exactly how hard and what direction will give me the most pleasure.

I find my initial apprehension wilting and an animalistic hunger taking over, begging me to lose control.

When he lifts his head back to meet mine I help take off his pants, rolling them down to reveal the bulk of his erection poking out from his underwear.

I consider taking them off and planting his cock right in my mouth, but he’s already pushing me back onto the bed, lowering his chest firmly against my breasts.

I think this is the first time a guy has ever wanted to skip the blowjob and go right for the main event.

He grinds his pelvis into me suggestively, the touch of his warm cock on my pussy making me wetter as the ache between my legs flourishes.

Even over my panties, his shaft grazing against my clit feels amazing. I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever wanted someone to fuck me this much.

As I nibble and bite down on his neck I breathe in his cologne. Even that smells divinely expensive, like Ralph Lauren. This suit knows all the tricks for a perfect seduction.

“You have an incredible body, Lauren,” he huffs, kissing my thighs.

I let out a whimper and run my hands through his hair, gripping it fiercely when I feel his breath against my panties. He kisses my pussy over the fabric, teasing it again like he knows it’s making me moister.

“Tell me you want me,” he says, looking up at me. “Tell me you want me inside you, Lauren.”

I love the way he hums my name like that, like it’s the most treasured name in the world.

“Yes,” I gasp, feeling his hands on my waist. “I want you.”

He slides my panties up and over my knees in one simple movement, taking off his own pants seconds later so that we’re finally skin against skin.

I reach down and stroke him to feel his hardness, watching his expression change and moan as I tug faster on his cock.

When it finally gets too much for him, he brushes my hand away and kisses me passionately.

Oh…

He presses his cock into me, pushing through the lips of my pussy like it’s his to penetrate.

I cry out in exultation when he thrusts all the way inside and a plethora of nerve endings burst within. I let myself relax completely as he keeps going, all the while asking myself why on earth I waited this long to get laid again.

As his cock slides along my walls it feels like a perfect fit, like the shape of my pussy has been precast for him and him alone.

I can’t remember it ever feeling this good with anyone else.

I raise my legs up and wrap them tight around his back so he can plunge deeper, only to find he has other ideas. He flips me over on the bed and…

Slam!

He drives his cock into me.

Hard.

Deep.

“Oh yes!” I cry out, gripping the sheets.

His hands hold my hips firmly, his strong fingers digging into my skin, as he rams me again from behind.

“Oh yes indeed Lauren,” he growls in pleasure.

This feels primal.

This feels beyond my control.

This feels right.

Faster. Harder. Deeper.

Fuck. Yes.

I love the way he’s punishing me with his strength, slamming into my delicate pussy with all the force he can muster.

He slows, flipping me over again, before he hoists me up, keeping my legs locked in place so that upright we form a lotus flower.

One of his favorite positions, perhaps? But as long as it keeps feeling this amazing, he can bend me whatever way he wants.

I grind and move against his dick, my breasts bouncing up and down on his chest in a titillating visual that I can tell he’s enjoying.

His eyes stay focused on mine, his breaths getting heavier as droplets of sweat gather on his brow.

Seconds seems like minutes.

Minutes feel like hours.

Time becomes euphorically relative.

“Keep your eyes on me, Lauren,” he commands, grabbing my hips so I can bounce faster. “It turns me on so much when you look at me.”

I obey and feel my climax building.

This guy might be arrogant, but Brooke was right…he sure knows what to do with a girl.

“Are you close?” he croons tenderly, sucking on my nipples as I continue to spring up and down on him.

“Yes.”

“I want us to cum together.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

It seems only moments later when I’m peaking, beckoning for him to let go too, both of us still lost in each other’s raring gaze when we finally blow.

I cry out and feel the blood rushing to my head, waiting until the orgasmic sensations peter out entirely before I unwrap my legs and fall back breathlessly onto the bed.

“You had nothing to be nervous about,” he simpers, lying down next to me. “That was something else.”

“It sure was,” I say, rolling onto my side. Even with a flushed face he still looks perfect. “You know, you’re not so bad when it comes to your…talents.”

“Ditto.” He smirks, taking my hand and kissing it.

I laugh coyly but feel completely at ease with him. Like I could lie here all night and just talk.

Oh no—that’s the rookie one-night stand move right there.

I’m not supposed to fall for this guy.

It’s a one-time deal, remember?

“What’s your name?” I ask, thinking that there’s no harm in at least knowing that much. After all, he knows mine.

“Do you need to know?”

Ouch, that was somewhat cold.

“Please. Right now, you’re kind of a Mr. Nameless.”

He pauses like he’s considering whether or not to tell me.

A Mr. Nameless with secrets.

Another reason why I shouldn’t let myself go weak at the knees over this one…

Chapter Nine

“James,” the suit finally says, but with clear averseness.

I nod and contemplate asking what his last name is too, but instinct tells me not to.

Besides, I won’t see him again after tonight anyway, right?

I shouldn’t care what his full name is.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, James,” I say instead, flashing a smile.

We lay in silence for a few more minutes, eyes to the ceiling, just hushes of our breaths filling the room.

He looks at me now and then, like he’s on the cusp of wanting to say something but doesn’t quite have the mettle to go through with it.

I don’t know why, but even though we aren’t speaking it doesn’t feel awkward.

It’s like we’re comfortable with each other already, which I know is crazy because I barely know him and from what I have witnessed, he’s way more egotistical jerk than beloved Romeo.

But all the same, he does have me curious.

“If you could go any place, anywhere in the world, where would it be?” James suddenly asks, very off character.

I don’t hide my reaction.

I look at him, confused.

“Well, that’s a random question,” I joke.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it kind of is.”

“Okay…just humor me then,” he grins, those vivid blue beacons shifting between the ceiling and me.

“Okay, Venice,” I say emphatically.

It was always going to be my answer.

I’ve wanted to go there ever since I can remember.

I saw a picture of it once when I was young: it was of St Mark’s Square at sunset.

Even though it was partly flooded, there were still people everywhere. A few of them were sitting at a restaurant, with glasses of wine in their hands, and looking out to the gradual sun as it was sinking into the water.

As I’d continued to stare at the image, I’d thought to myself: Wouldn’t that be nice?

To just sit and stare out at something that beautiful, while the rest of the world carries on around you?

“I think there has to be something magical about a place that’s built on the sea. I’d love to sit by the waterfront with a bottle of wine, peacefully taking it all in as the sunset hovers in the distance,” I tell him.

James is watching me diligently, like he’s truly interested in what I’m saying and is waiting to hear more.

“I also think that any place that replaces cars with boats, streets with canals, and newsstands with mask shops must be pretty awesome.”

He waits another minute before speaking, glancing over at the wall like he’s trying to draw the city of Venice on it.

“That does sound nice,” he says distantly.

“Can I ask you a question now?” I ask, carving a smile.

“Fire away.”

“If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

I know it’s a deeper question than his, but I’m intrigued as to what his answer will be.

Thus far tonight, he’s come across as a rich, confident, cunning thespian, and I simply want to know if that’s who he really is.

Not that it’s any of my concern.

In fact, now I’m really thinking about it, why do I even want to know?

He’s just a stranger to me and I’m just a stranger to him.

That’s how things should stay, right?

“I’d reverse time,” comes his answer, with a hollowness to it that pulls at my heartstrings instantaneously.

I look over at him and see a wave of sadness in his eyes, a far cry from the narcissistic man who had approached me at the bar.

“I’d stay in my hometown and get married,” he continues on. “I’d have the white picket fence, the 2.5 rug rats and the family van. Yeah, that would’ve been something…”

There aren’t many times in my life where I’ve been left completely speechless, but this is definitely one of them.

Have I misjudged this guy?

Does this smooth-talking, faraway-eyed suit really have a soul somewhere in there?

“You can still have all that,” I utter gently, trying to sound positive.

But it has the opposite effect: I watch James get up from the bed immediately.

Shit, I’ve actually hit a nerve.

“Are you okay?” I ask, sitting up.

How was I supposed to know he’d have that reaction?

He shouldn’t have asked me a personal question in the first place.

It’s his fault – not mine.

“I’m fine,” he says brusquely, throwing on his pants and shirt. “I have to be somewhere early in the morning. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

I watch him readjust the diamond-studded Rolex so it’s over the cuff of his sleeve, before grabbing his suit jacket off the edge of the bed.

“Tonight was amazing,” he says, looking at me briefly. “I really hope you make it to Venice someday.”

“Ah…thanks, bye,” I barely manage to get out before he disappears, closing the door behind him with a loud click.

What the hell was that?

What was his problem?

Was I really to blame?

All these questions are running through my head and…wait, isn’t this what girls always do?

They blame themselves for a guy’s bad behavior when really he’s just being a jerk?

‘If only I’d said this and done that, then maybe he’d still like me.’

I can hear Brooke’s voice in my ear already.

“One-night stand etiquette 101, Lauren: no exchange of phone numbers or sharing of personal information.”

I give a loud sigh and bury my head in the pillow, pulling the sheet all the way over.

The Ralph Lauren cologne is still embedded there, along with ‘Strangers in the Night’ repeating over and over in my head.

This is why I avoid flings and guys who think their ego is God’s gift to women.

The aftermath is just too much to take.