Page 65 of Dirty Boss

A moment later, his cock was pressing against me, pressure and stretch and heat at my core. Vaughn stroked my body, telling me to relax, telling me that he wanted me just like this, that I didn’t have to do anything but stay where I was.

A soft moan slipped through my lips as he slid inside me, slow and inexorable, filling me up completely. It felt so good to be joined with him like this, to know that he would tell me exactly what to do to make it feel good.

I didn’t have to think or wonder or spin out in my own mind.

Vaughn’s hand slid over my hip, gripping softly. His lips brushed the pulse point on my neck, and I kept my body soft, relaxed, accepting more of him inside me. He grunted, fingertips digging into my flesh, his hips rolling against me.

I let myself fall into the moment with him, my mind going blank. It was just skin and pleasure and Vaughn. His hand shifted between my legs as he entered me slowly, rhythmically. There was no pressure for me to perform or to be something other than who I was. I didn’t have to orgasm for him. I just had to be.

“So perfect,” he groaned, the pressure of his fingers increasing on my clit. “So wet and perfect, princess. I could keep doing this for hours.”

My head fell back against his shoulder, and then he was fucking into me a little harder. A little faster.

“You make this so good for me,” he continued, nose brushing my neck, teeth scraping at my shoulder. “Letting me take what I want like a good girl.”

I sighed at his words, relaxing into his touch. There should have been shame that I enjoyed being used like this, that I wanted it, but there was nothing but sweet blankness and mounting pleasure. No undercurrents of stress. No wondering if he was genuine or not. No need to perform.

When he rolled me onto my front and caught my wrists in his, I let out a sigh. He held them fast to the bed, his calves pinning my legs. My hips rocked up to meet his, and then I couldn’t have formed a coherent thought to save my life. Vaughn took me hard and deep, and the sweet blankness gave way tothe pleasure. I came with a cry, shuddering beneath him, then whimpered when I felt him pull out. A moment later, hot spurts painted my thighs and ass as Vaughn moaned above me.

I panted, my heart racing, as Vaughn stroked my sides and caught his own breath. Then he climbed off the bed and came back a minute later with a wet washcloth to wipe me off. I sank into the mattress as I enjoyed his ministrations, my eyes closing, then hummed as he gathered me into his arms and held me.

I stayedat Vaughn’s for three days. He went to work when he needed to and worked from home when he could. We did etiquette lessons at his dining room table and learned the rumba in his living room. He fucked me on every available surface. It was a bubble of sex and happiness, and on some level, I knew it would pop. Things didn’t keep going well in my life. Vegetable gardens got demolished. Relationships ended. Bubbles popped.

I just didn’t know when it would happen.

Finally, when I got sick of hand-washing my underwear only to have it ruined a couple of hours later, I made a trip to my apartment while Vaughn went to one of his worksites for some important concrete thing. His subcontractors had screwed him over, and he needed to go there to fix…something… I didn’t really know. I’d tried to listen when he told me about it, but he hadn’t been wearing a shirt and I’d gotten distracted by his chest. He’d noticed, and I’d ended up bent over the side of the couch.

Although my apartment was clean and much bigger than the studio a couple of floors below, walking into it still felt like waking up from a perfect dream.

Then my phone buzzed. I smiled as I dug through my purse, thinking that Vaughn hadn’t been able to go more than a couple of hours without speaking to me. I could relate; I’d planned on sending him a message as soon as I’d showered properly. But when I looked at my phone, it wasn’t Vaughn’s name that popped up.

The number wasn’t saved as a contact, but it didn’t take me long to figure out who it was. James had changed his number, apparently. I’d blocked his old one.

Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we saw each other.

I stared at the message, heart pounding. It felt like I’d just caught sight of a venomous snake in the corner of the room, and now I had to figure out how to get it out of my life.

I could delete the message, pretend it didn’t exist. The way he’d written “since we saw each other” made it sound like something other than running into each other in the lobby of a restaurant.

My phone buzzed again.

Miss you.

It buzzed again.

I want to talk to you, Alba. Can I see you?

I stared at those words, and my stomach turned. A couple of weeks ago, that message would have sent me rushing back to him. All the fantasies I’d had of running off and making a life together, just the two of us, would’ve come flooding back, and I would’ve jumped at the chance to make a fool of myself again.

Now…

I wanted to hurl my phone at the tile wall.

My hands trembled as I unlocked the phone and tapped my messaging app. The message sat in bold at the top of the list. My thumb hovered. I could swipe to delete. I could block him.

I could answer.

I chose to do none of those things. I tapped on the second number down: Deena’s. Within minutes of asking her if she was free, I had scheduled a date with her at the coffee shop. I got dressed, locked my apartment, and headed over.