F or what feels like the millionth time, I can’t catch my breath. My heart is fluttering a mile a minute, threatening to jump out of my chest and into Roman’s.
He takes his precious time, climbing into the bed and hovering over me. Unable to help myself, I grab either side of his face and pull him down to meet my lips. He greedily kisses me back, slipping his tongue past my lips and taking control of everything.
Our slick bodies press against one another as I squirm uncontrollably, titling my hips upward as he tries to keep me in place. But he’s just as lost in this as I am, both of us so invested in pleasing the other while maintaining what we’re supposed to be—him, the asshole boss who is actually sweet as hell, and me, the insubordinate employee who actually wants nothing more than to please him.
Two horrible and jagged puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.
He breaks away from my mouth and uses a strong hand to pin me down. Despite my whimpers of protest, he slips his other hand between us and grabs ahold of his already hard cock. He drags it through my folds, my back arching in response.
I start to think of a joke about after only one night with him and I’ll be needing a chiropractor, but he must read it on my face and slams into me all in one go.
I scream out, a delicious mix of pain and incredible pleasure tightening every muscle I have while I attempt to adjust to his size.
“You got it, darling.” He draws nearly all the way out, and my pussy clenches around what he leaves inside. His heavy hands find my hips, and he pauses, his dark gaze finding mine. “Take it for me.”
Roman drives back into me, his pace steady and his force hard. Every time he hits that delicious spot, my moans groan louder and wilder. The only relief I get is when his head drops to take one of my nipples into his mouth.
He sucks the peak with the same force as his drive, and before he releases me, he bites down hard enough I screech out.
“You’re such a good fucking girl, Presley,” he grits out, returning to his torturous pace as before.
My hips jerk up to meet his every thrust, and after the third one, he slows to a complete stop. I open my mouth, fury ready to take whatever punishment he throws, but the sound of a wet slap has me gasping for air.
“If I wanted you to fuck me, you’d be on top,” he says casually, swiping a soft hand over my throbbing clit.
“You spanked my pussy.” My voice is strange, low, and sounds nothing like me.
He nods. “I did. If you’d like for me to impale this pretty little cunt, ask .”
His cock slips out, and I nearly cry at the loss. He leans back on his heels, his hair dripping over his perfectly defined chest. My hand itches to brush it back.
“Tell me what you want.”
I chew into my bottom lip, squeezing my thighs together. “I want to be on top of you.”
Roman thinks it over as if he might consider denying my request, but after a moment, he nods and changes position, sitting with his legs straight out and his back against the sleek wooden headboard.
He motions with his hands for me to come to him, but when I move, he shakes his head. “Crawl.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “I’m just on the other side of the bed.”
He smirks. “Hands and knees, Miss Cartier.”
I roll my eyes playfully but do as told, pushing my damp hair to the side and digging my knees into the soft mattress as I crawl to him. I do my best to make a show of it, batting my lashes slowly, swaying my hips from side to side, and biting on the corner of my lip.
It seems to do the trick because I only make it halfway to him before he has me in his arms and positioned right over his length. Once either of my legs are on the outside of his, he drops me down, being true to his word and impaling me.
My head falls back in a heady moan, and I waste no time lifting and falling over and over again, hitting the perfect spot.
Roman’s hands take free rein of my body, his calloused fingers working over my stomach, my breasts, my collarbone, and landing around my neck. He holds me there for a moment before squeezing just enough that my pussy flutters around him.
“Show me how you make yourself come when you think of me.”
I suck in what little air his tight grasp allows.
“You’re so sweet. You feel so fucking good. I want to see that pretty face come again. Show me.”
He keeps his hold on my neck, but his eyes belong to the hot trail of my hand moving down my center. I find that sweet bundle of nerves and begin to massage them as I continue to bounce.
Roman’s free fingers flick and play with my nipple, drawing moans out of me one by one, and my steady pace becomes erratic, goosebumps flooding my arms as I near the edge of release.
“Look at how good you look fucking me, darling. You do it so well. Don’t stop,” he purrs, pinching my nipple. “Right there.”
I yelp, and he swallows it, his hand disappearing as he takes my face in his hands. The kiss is soft and sensual, filled with long pulls and lip bites.
“Make me come, sir. Please ,” I whine against his mouth, my body now trembling and on the brink.
“Since you asked so nicely.” He takes over completely, shoving his hips up at the same time he bats my hand away and takes over circling my clit.
“That's it. Come for me, Presley. Because you feel too fucking good for me to hold off anymore.”
His words and another hard swipe over my bundle of nerves give me the edge I need, and we catapult together, groaning into one another as I continue to move up and down.
We ride the wave for what feels like forever, only slowing our movements when we can make out the breathing pattern of the other. I collapse against his chest, my heart beat pounding into his while my pussy still pulses around him.
Roman whispers in my ear what a good job I did and strokes my hair, until a heaviness moves over me. It's one of peace, happiness, bliss, and sleep.
“What do we do now?” I whisper into his neck, not wanting to move from his warm embrace.
“I’d like to live everyday as if it’s Christmas on the thirteenth floor if it means doing this with you.”
I smile, forcing myself to lean back so I can look into his eyes. “Sounds perfect to me, Mr. Chen.”
He nods, matching my smile with a soft laugh as he pulls me back down on top of him. “Then Christmas it will remain, Miss Cartier.”
ONE YEAR LATER
I adore my boss.
No. That’s not right. It doesn’t feel strong enough. I’m utterly smitten in a non-sexual way.
If she was on fire, I’d run my car into a fire hydrant and figure out a way to channel the water directly on her. If she was drowning, I'd jump inside and let her latch onto my back as I doggie-paddle us to safety. If she found herself stranded on an island and I knew the location, I’d recruit the national guard to send out the whole platoon to rescue her.
Yes. That’s about right. I think that sums up how I feel about Mrs. Stone. She’s been a phenomenal boss, and because of her, I am now the executive editor for one of the most widely known makeup magazines.
Oh, you thought I meant Roman?