Dear Grumpy Boss (Bossily Ever After #1)

11. Sasha

Eleven

Sasha

I lie on the bed, my body humming with aftershocks. The sheets are damp and cool against my skin. A cocktail of scents—my own sweat and arousal, damp earth and oak moss from the man lying behind me—fills my nostrils.

Without realizing it, I breathe in a lungful, afraid that I might never again know this particular combination. Every inhale draws more of him into my senses. I’m not sure if I want the lights back on or not. Although I do want to know what’s going on inside his complex mind.

The darkness is deeper than before as the candles gutter, though the flickering glow of the fireplace casts shadows of our lying bodies on the far wall. I like us like this, tangled up in each other, sated. Not him, though. He didn’t even get started. That sense of failure takes the edge off of my nearly violent orgasms.

For a moment, I wonder if he will abandon me, if it’s all he’s going to offer me tonight.

And yet, he’s quiet behind me, drawing lazy patterns on my bare skin. His touch is almost reverent, as if he’s memorizing every inch of me. It gives me the courage to face him, to let this unfold as it should’ve from the beginning.

With me grabbing what I want with both hands and my entire soul.

I turn my head and our gazes hold. His is filled with satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes my heart clench.

One abraded hand pushes me to lie on my back. Taut muscles—that I’ve yet to touch—clench as he props himself up on his elbow.

“You okay?” he asks softly, tracing a finger under my eye.

“I must look a sight, “I say, forcing a laugh.

Zayn shifts closer, his hand moving to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips in a feathery caress. “I like you like this. Even better than the polished you from earlier.”

“How?”

“Thoroughly ruined. At my hands.”

“Do you?” Apparently, I can sound sarcastic when I’m riled enough. “Because I don’t feel ruined. Expertly played, yes.” I pull back from him, even if it feels as hard as a planet reversing its orbit. I even manage to arrest his hand.

A faint tension emanates from his lean frame. He doesn’t like what I said or that I stop him from touching me.

This last day with him has given me more insight into him as a man with his own needs and flaws and doubts. He’s still the larger-than-life hero of my adolescence—just lying here with him takes my breath away—but it’s also a disservice to the real man beneath.

A man who clearly went to a lot of effort to give me this night.

“You arranged the blackout, had this suite all ready. Why? Did you somehow arrange the storm too?”

He shrugs, his skin gleaming in the faint light. “You asked me for one night.”

“Whatever I ask you for will be mine?” The idea takes wings in my chest. What if that’s all Zayn needs—for me to tell him what I want from him?

When he doesn’t answer, I try rolling away. “Thanks for the two mind-blowing orgasms, boss.”

In the blink of an eye, he pins me under him. “No, Mouse,” he says with a growl.

For one glorious second, his entire weight presses me down into the mattress. My breasts are crushed against his chest and my breath is a choppy pant.

I struggle under him—an instinctive move, because I really don’t want to get away—and he clamps me down with his powerful body. Desire and longing rip through me as his action tells me what he won’t.

He won’t let me get away. He just can’t.

I renew my struggles and I’m rewarded afresh. This is play, yes but God, I love this feeling of getting under his skin.

His trousers are still hanging over his hips but the weight and shape of his cock press at my core and my thighs fall open, making space for him.

Throwing my head back, I arch into him and groan as different sensations skewer me. All the resolve to get him to talk to me is gone in a puff as his open zipper roughly slides against my folds. I go from zero and wrung out to slick and moaning in three seconds. God, I need that thick length inside me.

“I have a very short time to win you over. I didn’t want to share you with people who don’t deserve you. And definitely not your bloody giant of a brother.”

“Hey,” I say, smacking his chest.

My mind is slow to catch up to his words with all these new sensations clamoring for my attention. I clasp his hips, as if I can stop him. Or even want to, fully. Still, he gives me another swivel of his hips before I push up and bite his lip to get him to stop. His skin feels as feverish as I do.

We’re both panting when I finally manage to say, “Win me over?” over the loud thump-thump of my heart. “You want to win me over. Why?”

His shoulders and biceps bunch as he lifts his hips and hangs over me. I clasp his cheeks, desperate to read him. My heart beats a frantic tattoo in my chest.

Bending down, he brushes his lips against mine in a featherlight touch that speaks of tenderness and gentle affection. Amber eyes flicker between mine the entire time.

He had his mouth on my most intimate folds earlier, but this kiss and the affection in it…slays me. Owns me. I lace my fingers behind his neck as he trails more kisses along my jawline and neck, licking my pulse.

“Don’t leave, Mouse. Please…stay.” He whispers the words against my sternum, as if he’s speaking directly to my heart.

I swallow at the thread of naked need pulsing in his words. Feeling bold, I push the thick lock of hair from his forehead. Something I’ve wanted to do for ages. “I…why?”

“Because I can’t, Sasha.” Tight grooves bracket his mouth. And my name on his lips is both a restraint and a release. “Not without you.”

“Then fuck me,” I say, a fresh fever claiming me. All my fears and doubts fall away. “Show me how much you need me.” This man could ask me to follow him to the ends of earth and I’d do it. I spread my palm on his chest—savor the thundering beat of his heart, and then trail it down, covering as much ground as possible. “I’ll stay if you ruin me, properly this time. And I promise never to ask you for anything, ever again.”

He growls and catches my lips for a rough, biting kiss. I slip my hands over his tapered hips, trying to push his pants down. Rolling off of me, he sheds them and his boxers and comes back to me on all fours. His cock plops against his left thigh, thick and veiny and oh so delicious looking.

I scrape my nails over his hairy thighs. Every inch of him is new to me. And that I can touch him like this…is a fever dream. “I want to touch it, please.”

A twinkle shines in his eyes. “Touch what?”

My cheeks heat up. “Your…cock.”

“Later.” But there’s less pushing me away this time and more urgency in that one word. “Right now,” his fingers trace my pussy lips with a gentle reverence that goes straight to my heart, “I need to claim you so well that you don’t remember anyone who’s touched this pussy before. If you touch me, I’ll get distracted.”

“Zayn…” I lick my lips and clasp his cheek. He meets my eyes. “I’ve never…I mean…I’ve never done this before. Any of this.”

His brows tie into a scowl. But he doesn’t stop touching me. His fingers dip in and out of my slit, like he’s playing peekaboo. As if touching me is like breathing and he can’t just stop. “Mouse, what are you saying?”

“I’ve never wanted to do this with anyone.” Finally, the words come. Easily. “Except with you.”

“So this pussy is all mine?” he growls, thrusting his two fingers in one deep stroke. The heel of his palm rubs deliciously against my clit and he’s hooked those fingers inside me, nudging at that spot.

I’m floating in a sea of sensation with everything he’s doing to me. But I won’t be a passive spectator for another second.

This is the man whose name has been stamped on my sexuality and I want to soak in every second of it, of him. I want this night to be inked into my flesh and bones forever.

“And you?” I say, finally wrapping my hand around his thick length.

“I…what?” His mouth falls slack, the lower lip a deep red. Head thrown back, his shoulders clenched tight, he is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. “Squeeze tighter, Mouse. Stroke harder.”

I follow his instructions to the letter and watch the effect of it play out in his beautiful face. Veins bulge in his temple and his neck is a corded column I want to lick up and down. My attempts at fisting and stroking his cock are clumsy but he doesn’t look like he cares. If anything, the sounds that fall out of his mouth make me all achy and empty.

Just when I think I’ve got a good grip and rhythm going, he pulls my hand away and laces our fingers. His kiss is so tender that it won’t be a surprise if my soul jumps out to reach for him.

“More than a decade, Mouse. So long ago, in fact, that if you squeeze me like that for another second, I’ll erupt all over your hand. And that’s not my priority right now.”

“Years,” I repeat, eyes wide at his gruff admission. Glee blooms inside my chest, spreading to every limb. My nostrils flare as understanding dawns. “It’s almost like you’ve been…” I trail off, scared to finish the sentence, and search his eyes.

But there’s very little space in me to process it further because he taps his cock against my pussy and runs the head up and down in between my folds. The sensation drives me out of my skin. “What’s your priority then?” I say, wrapping my hands behind his neck as he pushes my thighs indecently wide.

“Filling up this pretty cunt,” he says and then pushes the fat head of his cock inside me. “Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it leaks down your thigh. Until you forget that you ever planned to leave me.”

“No…no more talk of leaving, Zayn. Please, just…give it to me.”

The visual he paints is just as arousing as the slight pinch as he probes my entrance and plays there. I groan at the multiple new sensations. The slurp and slosh of our flesh is as raw as other realizations claiming me.