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He didn’t devour me this time. His lips were soft, caressing. Arms around my middle, he held my body against his. One of his hugs butmore. I melted into him, my reasons for protesting this withering and falling to the floor.
He was the one to pull away. “You need to pump?”
“Yes. That’s why I came in here. I’m afraid you’ve used up all my time, though.”
“Hmm. It’s a good thing you have such a nice boss who’ll let it slide just this once.”
My lips were tingling as I grinned at him. “My boss isn’t so nice, but he understands how to keep his employees happy.”
“I’m not nice?” His hand slid down to grip my ass. “The taste of your creamy pussy on my lips begs to differ.”
That shouldn’t have sent a bolt of heat to my core, but it did. I rubbed one thigh against the other and let out a quiet mewl. Not quiet enough to escape Elliot’s notice, though. His satisfied smirk only made me hotter.
He squeezed my cheek, tilting my pelvis toward his. “Tell me how nice I am, Catherine.”
“You’re the nicest boss I’ve ever had at this company, Elliot.”
He gave me a light smack, then dipped down to kiss me again. “Take your time and see me in my office when you’re done.”
Then hereallydid me in.
Stepping away from me, he straightened his tie, brushed his hair with his fingertips, then slipped his hand in his pants to adjust the hard ridge pressing against his zipper. When he was done, he caught me watching, and his lids lowered to half-mast as he gave me a sly smirk.
Elliot Levy was sexy, and he knew it.Knewit.
“See you soon, sweetheart,” he crooned.
As soon as he was out the door, I flopped into one of the armchairs, covered my face, and sighed. That man…
Working with Elliot when he’d been incessantly intolerable had been a challenge, but working for this version of him—smooth, sweet, dominant—was going to be even harder.
Davida and Raymond could have reminded me that this was a terrible idea—and Iknewit was—but when he kissed me breathless, called me sweetheart, and looked at me like I was an epiphany, all my common sense turned against me, whispering that this would be worth the inevitable disaster.
Chapter Twenty-five
Elliot
Thetroublewithhavingaccess to Catherine nearly one hundred percent of the day was I couldn’t actually have her any time I wanted. She was there, right outside my office, but I couldn’t do what I wanted. And once we got home, it wasn’t better. In fact, it might have been worse since she spent stretches of the evening cluster feeding Jo.
Call me a sick fuck, but there would be no circumstance in which I saw Catherine’s breasts and wouldn’t get hard. They were so perfectly round, and her nipples were always crimson and ripe. I’d never even imagined what breast milk tasted like, but seeing the drops on the tips of her beaded peaks had awakened something inside me. Something primal and ravenous. And she’d been so addictively sweet on my tongue last night, I wanted more.
After dinner, I needed some space to get myself under control. This overwhelming sense ofwantwas entirely unfamiliar to me. I stayed steady by being the master of my environment, but that had become impossible with Catherine dismantling my carefully constructed world without even trying.
“I’m going to read for a while. Come find me when she’s sleeping,” I told her, kissing her forehead when I wanted to suck her tongue and bite her neck.
I looked at Josephine and had a far different kind of urge. I wanted to watch her, protect her, keep her safe. Always.
I dragged a knuckle over her cheek. “Be good, little girl.”
Catherine appeared at my door a couple hours later. I patted the space beside me on the bed, and she walked in, tugging on the hem of her shirt and nibbling on her bottom lip.
She was a sight. Her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders, curled at the ends. She’d changed into pajamas I hadn’t seen before—a black, silky camisole and matching shorts. It gratified me to know this was for me—that she’d taken some time to put on something special and let down her hair before she came in here for my gaze.
My cock stirred with interest as I watched her climb onto my bed, giving me a view of the lacy bralette she had on under the camisole. Catherine in lace was a heady combination.
She settled beside me with a sigh, her back against the pillows, legs stretched out in front of her.
“What a strange day,” she said.
