IN BED WITH THE BOSS

Scott wondered if she would take him slow and easy, or hard and wild. God, he’d almost drove himself insane wondering that.

Vivian nodded, but he shook his head. “You sure, baby? You good?”

“Yes,” she breathed, giving his neck a squeeze. She removed her hand, replacing it with her mouth, trailing a path up his throat, over his chin until she hovered over his lips.

She crushed her mouth to his. The kiss wasn’t patient, and wasn’t tentative. Her tongue thrust forward, parried with his, tangling and dueling. She took him exactly the way he liked, the way he needed her to. As she sucked on his tongue, drawing on him as if he were everything she needed to survive, everything winked out of his mind. Nothing mattered but the in-toxicating, addictive taste of her.

Running her fingers, through his hair, sheytugged on them, and the prickle across his scalp tripped down his spine, crackled at the base. He clutched her hips, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

No one had ever called him that. It was an awe coating compliment, and it shook him. She was hot, pounding blood coursing through him. With her storm-whipped rain and fresh roses scent embracing him, there wasn’t room for thoughts of any other thing. She was sensual, golden-bronze flesh-and-bone She was his insanity, his hunger brought to vivid life. She was here. For him.

With a growl, he skated his palms up the sides of her torso, and the zipper of her dress abraded his skin. Desperate, he impatiently tugged it down and wasted no time in pushing the material over her shoulders and down her arms. She obliged him, freeing his hair and joining him in getting rid of the clothing.

“No.” The word escaped him before he could trap it.

“No?” she repeated, and he caught the hint of insecurity that crept into her voice. She started to lift her arms toward her torso, but he latched on to her wrists, lowering her arms back down before she could cross them.

“I imagine being with you in my head all the time, but every damn time, my imagination doesn’t match reality. Doesn’t even fucking compete.” He cupped a breast and hissed at the delicious weight of her flesh filling his palm.

Warm, soft, perfect. Reverently, he whisked his thumb over the nipple, watching in fascination as it beaded.

No, she wasn’t the first woman he’d touched like this, but none had been her. He tore his gaze from his hand on her to meet her eyes. “Nothing or no one could fucking compete.”

Her lips parted, but no words emerged. Good. He was saying enough for both of them, and he needed to stop that before he took them somewhere they had no place being. Bending his head, he sucked a tip deep, flicking his tongue against her flesh before drawing hard. Vivian shuddered, her hands cradling his head, holding him to her with a strength that telegraphed her passion. That and the nails pricking his scalp.

Switching breasts, he treated the other to the same devotion. She writhed against him, as if seeking to get closer. Cooperating, he fisted the hem of her dress and shoved it up her thighs. With a whimper, she straddled him, dropping down and pressing them sex to sex.

He growled around her flesh, suckling harder. And she rewarded his attention with a dirty grind of her hips that had him throwing his head back against the seat, eyes squeezed closed. Her panties and his pants and underwear separated them, but none of those inconsequential details mattered. Not when her hot, wet heat rode him. Not when each drag of her flesh over his cock shredded his control.

“Give me your mouth again,” he ordered, in a voice so guttural he barely understood himself.

But she must’ve translated it, because she gave him what he asked for, her hips still working over him. She didn’t stop, and the thrust of her tongue and pull of her lips mimicked each stroke below. Even as she yanked his jacket open and attacked his shirt, damn near ripping buttons loose to get her hands on his bare chest, she didn’t lose him.

They groaned into each other when she touched him. Those slender, clever hands swept down his chest, lingering over his abs, tracing the muscles with almost worshipful strokes.

“How is it possible that you just get more beautiful?” she whispered.

He parted his lips to tell her she was the stunning one, not him, but she ripped away his ability to talk by brushing her fingertips over his nipples, rubbing them. His hips bucked into her. Live wires connected from her touch to the tip of his dick. He swelled, throbbing, hurting.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasped against her mouth. He abandoned her breasts and burrowed his fingers in her hair, gripping it, holding her still so he could stare into those slumberous eyes. “You want me, baby?”

“Yes,” she breathed, trailing a route of fire over his clenched abs to the band of his pants.

Almost too rough, he released her, reaching into his inner jacket pocket for his wallet. Quickly withdrawing a condom, he tossed the billfold to the floor.

Within moments, he had his pants opened, his erection freed. Her swift intake of breath preceded the hot, tight clasp of her fist around him by seconds. His back bowed under the whip of pleasure, and his free hand wrapped around hers, so they pumped his flesh together. For several torturous and blissful moments, they stroked him, pushing closer to an ending that wouldn’t include him balls-deep inside her.

“Enough,” he muttered, and, removing their hands, tore open the small foil package and slid the protection over him. Above him, she fumbled under her dress, trying to push black lace panties down her hips.

“Fuck that,” he growled.

Shoving her dress higher until it encircled her waist like a band, he fisted the front of her underwear and jerked it to the side. For a couple seconds, he savored the vision of her bare, glistening sex and the erotic beauty of her silken thigh-high stockings against silkier skin. But then the lure of that feminine flesh proved too enticing, too much.

He slid his finger through the dark cleft, moaning at the wetness coating his skin. The sound dragged from her echoed his, and her head tipped back, shuddering when he circled her, applying minute pressure.

Just enough to have her shaking like a leaf, but not enough to catapult her over the edge. That honor belonged to his dick.

Hands grasping his shoulders, she eased down his length, and though the drugging pleasure had his eyes nearly closing to savor the tight, smooth fit of her sex, he kept his attention on her. Because nothing-not the rippling clasp of her body, the quiver of her thighs, the sight of her taking him-could compare with the slight widening and darkening of those beautiful eyes. Those eyes conveyed how much she craved him, needed him.

Those eyes gave him all of her.

And greedy bastard that he was, he wanted it all.

Except for the very fine tremble of his tautly controlled muscles, he held completely still. Allowing her to claim him at her own pace. Even if each interminable second she took to inch down threatened to send him careening into insanity or orgasm-whichever came first. Finally, she sat on his thighs, and he was fully embedded inside her. And still he wouldn’t free her from his gaze.

“Fuck me, Vivian,” he whispered. “And don’t look away from me.”

Sliding her hands over his shoulders and into his hair, she grabbed fistfuls of the strands and glided up his length. Air kissed his tip before she sank onto him again, swallowing him in the firmest, but softest heat. Again. And again. She released him, took him. Eased off him, claimed him.

She rode him, rising and falling over him, driving them both toward the rapidly crumbling edge of re-lease. Her cries mixed with the litany of his own and still she continued to look at him. Letting him see what he did to her. Gifting him with that. Electric pulses zipped up and down his spine, crackling in the balls of his feet. He couldn’t hold back much longer. He wasn’t going to last.

He loosened a hand from her hair and tucked it between their undulating bodies and slicked it over the top of her sex. Once, twice. A third and a pinch.

She flew apart with a scream, stiffening, her sex gripping him, milking him. Daring him to dive into the abyss with her. Grabbing her hips, he slammed into her, plunging so deep he almost doubted he would ever find his way out of her.

She fucking leveled him. Her arms closed around his shoulders, cradling him as he bowed his head, groaning out his release into her neck. He inhaled her thick, heady scent as his body calmed and his breathing evened. His senses gradually winked back online after pleasure short-circuited them.