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“Pretty girl, you’re so tight. Fuck.” He thrusts inside, several deep, harsh pounds until he is going stiff above me. His head drops, and his eyes are sparking like my own. “I was wrong,” he chokes. “Lauren, I can’t get enough of you.”
His cock twitches, and I mewl, pressing against the restraints he holds me in. I capture his mouth, moaning greedily. “Let me touch you,” I manage to gasp between his deep kisses. Kisses that blaze through my soul and snare my heart into a vice. His grip loosens, and I slide my palms up his back and drive them where I need them, my grip on his hair holding his mouth to mine. I press into him—my eyelids held fast to hide the emotions clouding my vision. He gently rocks in and out, our creased foreheads sticking together. The friction draws the last swell of my orgasm to wash through me.
“I love how you milk my cock—so fucking greedy.” His mouth demands a deep kiss, and his hands mimic my own, gliding along my spine and weaving into my damp locks. He nudges himself deeply, holding himself to the hilt and shaking his head in awe. “I want more weekend hook-ups,” he confesses into my hair.
My heart gallops and bangs unsteadily against my breastbone. However, Cain relaxes, and my body accepts the extra weight, purring at the heady sensation it evokes. He’s granted me an opening. One I have mentally fought against, refused to allow my mind to dream up. It morphs into something more than an idea, and it becomes a living, breathing organism that pulses between us. I want for only a moment to hold it and believe I’m not alone in this, not conjuring up some misplaced belief that we actually share something deeper. I hold it and bite my lip. I want to fall into this void with him. “Me too,” my light whisper hangs suspended in the air, our dilemma as physically unavoidable as we were. I see it now, the tangible thread bouncing between us. We pant quietly, fingers gliding across sweat-coated skin.
Cain lifts his head and cups my jaw. I want so badly to look away, to keep my thoughts as my own. I want more of this man. I want him to be more than my boss. I want more weekends wrapped around him in his big bed, silk sheets soothing my skin. I want him to look at me like he is now without the fear of being caught. Sucking in a deep breath, I swallow against his hold and shake my head in self-incrimination. I should know better than to get tangled up with my boss, but my head and heart have no place when my body is betraying every part of me.
“I never wanted to fire someone so fucking much in all my life,” he blurts roughly.
And that's the problem. If we want more, I have to give up my career.
My laugh is accompanied by a shaky smile. “I love my job,” I remind him, entwining my fingers into his wet hair.
“I know, pretty girl,” He drops, pecking my mouth softly. “I still want to fire your sexy ass.” He smirks against my mouth. When he rolls, I snake around him and let him flip us until I’m straddling his hips. I stare at him, a little smile stretching my mouth up at one side as he hooks his hands beneath his head and lazily rakes his eyes down my naked body.
“I have to admit, I wanted this to be bad so I could make my excuses and leave.”
“Jokes on you.” He chuckles. “There's little you could say at this point to make me believe otherwise.” His leg lifts, and he gently knees my backside, jolting me forwards so he can capture my mouth.
“So what does one do in a place like this when you’re not fucking?” I muse, leaning back to rest my hands on his thighs.
Laughter rips from his mouth. His head doubled back, exposing the thick column of his prickly throat. “Work,” he drawls.
“No, seriously.” I grin. “What do you do?”
“I work.”
Wrinkling my nose, I hold his gaze, assessing how much truth his reply carries. For a man with exceptional wealth, I was expecting something a little more glamorous. The truth is sad, but money doesn’t sleep, and Cain wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t exploit every waking hour to grow his business. “No hobbies?” I pry.
Something dark and painful flickers across his gaze, and he shifts and runs his hands up my thighs. “I like going to the gym.” His rough voice snakes into my gut. He doesn’t want to touch on anything personal.
Biting my lip, I thread my fingers with his own. “I would have thought a man like you would have a gym here?”
“I do.”
“And how does Perry feel about that?”
“I believe he threatened to never talk to me again.”
“He's full of shit.” I laugh.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” His compliment is so unexpected that I drop forwards and hide my face. “You don’t agree?” He nuzzles my neck and uses his weight and our hands to flip us so his body crushes into mine, hard, smooth and heavy. “Tell me who made you believe otherwise. I want to wring the little fucker’s neck.” He bites into my shoulder and moans happily. Laughing, I wait with a grin in place for him to sit up and look at me.
“No little fuckers,” I breathe. Martin doesn’t count. I left all that behind me. Him and his bastard of a father.
“No?”
I shake my head. Outside of the bedroom, our lives are ours alone. I have no intention of sharing my life with him. Just like him, I am keeping my cards close to his chest. I’ve been burnt hard enough before. I’ll play his game and keep my poker face in place. It’s what will make this easier in the end.
My stomach rumbles and Cain’s brow raises humorously. “Let me get you something to eat.”
“The service is kind of shabby,” I proclaim, and he scoops me up, chuckling.
* * *
Cain took himself off to his office a little over an hour ago, and I can hear the deep hum of his voice as he speaks with his lawyer. One call and his playful and passionate demeanour had evaporated. A cloak of agitation had washed over him, and when his shoulders had risen, I'd wrapped my arms around his neck and told him to go and deal with whatever was bothering him.
