Page 8 of Bought by the Boss

His low moan tickles in my belly when he cups my sex. He leans in and his mouth presses against mine, and it’s all I can do not to beg him to get inside me. His lips are firm and demanding, penetrating my soul with every swirl of his tongue. Yet his kisses are so much more than simple affection. It’s a statement. He owns me with every bite of his teeth. I know it with all that I am when his fingers slip inside of me, not slowly entering but demanding he belong there. I soak his fingers as he begins thrusting with intent. His palm bangs against my clit and had it not been for his hand on my neck, I’d be sinking down the wall into the pleasure. As it is, I’m on my tiptoes in my red high heels. I hear the voices of pedestrians walking by. With little effort, they could walk down this alleyway and find us, yet somehow that only excites me more.

I’m moaning and gasping and trembling against the force of what he does to me. I finally have his touch. It’s all that I need and more.

When I reopen my eyes and Liam backs away, obviously to watch me fall into orgasm, I lose myself in the power he commands, easily coming against his fingers thrusting into me. My release is quiet, the only sound a soft gasp from my mouth. A hard shake rocking through my body drops me from the high.

He slowly withdraws his fingers. My panties are back in place. He tucks his finger under my chin, bringing my eyes to meet the fierceness in his. “Don’t toy with me again,” he states firmly.

With blurry eyes, I watch him walk away, staying plastered to the wall. I tug down my skirt, feeling my orgasm on my inner thighs.

I lost this battle.

And yet, somehow, I felt like I won.

Chapter 3

Liam

On Friday morning, my feet hit the ground along the Santa Monica Pier with the rhythm of the song blasting through my earbuds. Sweat trickles down my face and my torso, my lungs burn with each and every stride. The air is fresh, lacking humidity. The sunr

ise is casting a somewhat pinkish glow across the Santa Monica Bay.

While I arrived at my beach house last night to get settled in and stock the fridge so Aria and I would have no distractions this weekend, I needed a run before fetching her. It’s my therapy and my fuel.

When I spot the thin house with the large one-way glass windows on the front, I slow to a walk on the beach trail, relishing the high that always comes with a good run. On the outside of the house, there’s not much to excite, except for the property being located right on the beach. The exterior is chrome and dark gray stucco, which I had done myself with the help of a contractor. When I reach the concrete steps, I grab my keys from my pocket and unlock the door, stepping into the open-concept main floor. The design is modern and sleek with white walls and floors, and white furniture with black pillows. I had hired an interior designer to freshen up the interior of the house and I didn’t have any part in it.

On my way past the kitchen on the right, I notice that the clock on the stainless-steel microwave above the gas stove shows it’s nearing seven o’clock now. I drag a hand through my sweaty hair, hastily moving into the master suite. All white furniture leads to a dark metal king-size bed frame, and the en suite bathroom is equally modern. Light gray tiles cover the large bathroom’s floor and extend into the all-glass shower.

Determined to get the show on the road, I strip off my shoes and socks, shorts then boxer briefs, leaving my cellphone on the glass vanity. When I enter the shower, I turn the water on and let the warm stream hit the back of my neck, washing away the sweat, allowing my mind to go to Aria. Soon, I’ll be inside her.

Those thoughts harden my cock to steel. I grab the base of my shaft, the water running down over my hardened flesh, teasing me. I don’t pause. I don’t warm up. I place my free hand against the wall and I jerk my dick hard and fast, thinking of nothing but Aria when I claimed her orgasm. The way she felt. The way she moaned when I made her fall apart. How her eyes widened and became alive in those seconds. How I owned her.

My muscles tighten, a low groan rumbling from my throat when I come, my semen landing on the shower’s floor, washing away with the water. It’s less satisfying than it is essential. I refuse to blow too fast with Aria. I will take my time savoring every goddamn inch of her. And I know I can’t show up today fully loaded.

The beep of my cellphone reminds me that I’m due to pick her up in an hour. With my dick soft and settled for now, I put Aria out of my mind for the moment and set to finish showering and getting dressed.

It’s just about an hour later when I’m nearly ready to go. In the kitchen, I’m sipping my coffee after polishing off a plate of eggs and toast. By eight o’clock, I’m on the road in my dark silver Mercedes convertible to fetch Aria. By a little after eight-thirty, I’ve arrived at central Los Angeles, and I spot her waiting for me outside of her condo with her suitcase next to her.

My cock twitches in my beige cargo shorts, reminding me that jerking off doesn’t do much to calm the intensity I feel for Aria, nor has it ever. This morning her hair is down and straight, her makeup light. Her comfortableness in her own skin is one of the things I find so sexy about her. She’s wearing a white sundress that I’m sure on anyone else would look cute, but on her, it’s fucking sexy portraying innocence that I know is a tease. Because that woman right there might be sweet, but she’s dirty as fuck, I can tell. And damn, do I want to play.

I stop next to her and grin. “Looking for a good time?” I joke.

“Depends on what you’re offering in return,” she jokes back.

“The best sex of your life,” I tell her seriously.

She grins. “Well, then, yes, I certainly am looking for a good time.”

I chuckle, open the trunk then exit the car, moving to her. She turns to face me and watches me intently, a delicate flush brushing over her cheeks. It’s not shyness, I know that. It’s desire. “You look absolutely beautiful this morning.” I lean in to kiss her lightly on the lips. It’s a tease of what’s to come.

She kisses me fully back telling me that she plans to go head-to-head with me this weekend. All bets are off. We’re both playing to win.

A cold void overcomes me when I step back and open the passenger door.

“Thank you,” she says, sliding into the seat. After shutting the door behind her, I place her suitcase in the trunk then join her in the car, when she adds, “Do I get any hints on where we’re going this weekend?”

“To my beach house in Santa Monica.”

Her eyebrows raise in obvious surprise. “Yours? As in, you own it?”

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