Bad Boy Boss (5 page)

I backed him into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and then kissing his chest up to his mouth. He got my top off, which wasn’t much of a task, and we both started the rest of the process punctuated by my crushing my breasts into his chest and sticking my tongue in his mouth. When he got to my panties, he lowered them, only to stop and massage the back of my knees a bit.

He ran his hands over my clit, pretty much in the way that had become common over the last few days, but this time he teased me more with it; rubbing my lips open and then brushing upward, across my clit. I’ve got to admit, that was pretty effective. I was so hot and wet by the time he finally stroked my pelvic bone and flicked my G-spot I was gone, gone, gone.

We rolled up on our sides and I sort of led things that way. The night before had been just a little slice of heaven and I wanted more. He lifted my leg to open me up to him and left his hand behind my knee, sending its thrilling little messages between my legs. His other arm was under my waist with the hand on my tush cheeks, gently moving them in a circular motion that slid my clit over him and added to the excitement.

There was another little twist. Just before he came he switched his oral attention from my mouth to my nipple, licking the hardness and it had me shivering into his climax.

He turned down the heat in my cabin to sixty-two, which effectively bonded us for the night. But this time it was Peter who left a piece of anatomy out in the cold; a leg to be exact. So naturally, he put it between my legs and it started pushing my buttons before I woke up. When I did wake up, I was hot and wet and his leg was plastered to my clit.

I sort of rolled him inside me and he woke with me on top of him and him inside of me. He started to sit me up, but I resisted. I wanted to lie against him. I wasn’t wildly excited; in fact, unless he got creative, I didn’t expect to orgasm. What was nice was the closeness. We fell asleep that way and sometime during the night he went soft and fell out of me.

Neither one of us came that night. We touched and explored each other, but it was much more about the sensation and not the sex. Oddly, it never occurred to me to even wonder if he might have lost interest already; if that fire was just dying out. The way he touched me showed me how very interested he was in me, even beyond sex. We were getting to know about each other on a whole different level and I think it was around this time that we really started to develop as a couple.

We woke with me on top of him. Strangely, we weren’t hot, though we did enjoy the shower, and still had the same problems getting dry. But we woke early and had plenty of time before work. He made Belgian waffles with sweet cream and preserves: strawberry, blueberry and boysenberry. I had never had boysenberry, but he invited me to lick it off his lips. And I did.

I got made up again and danced through another day of pictures.

With what I learned on Wednesday, I nailed the pictures on Thursday. If someone isolated the picture from the background and dropped out the color, there were three that were hard to differentiate from the original 1917 photo. He leaned over when he saw the first one and kissed me.

“We work very well together,” he said.

“That’s something we have to keep up,” I said and returned his kiss.

It was his cabin, and he made ham steak with a glaze of fruit cocktail; it was sort of like ham with pineapple, but a little more complex. We drank a Sauvignon Blanc with it. I had stopped at my cabin and gotten my pool cue, which surprised him a bit. What surprised him even more was the fact that I got to take his underpants while losing only my top.

“Hustler,” he said.

“Just call me Fast Mary.”

I kissed him from his knee up the inside of his leg, and down the other leg as I dragged his pants off. Then I stripped and told him that losers had no rights and I was going to eat him alive.

I put his hands on my breasts and my hand on his cock, rubbing it and masturbating him, then I just went to town kissing him and rubbing my tits against his hands. I was in total control doing this and it was turning me on big time. I had an orgasm before his refractory period kicked in, straddling his leg. I was just all over him, rubbing against his naked body and thrilling myself touching him and being touched.

When he was hard again, I got on top, sitting on him. I took one of his hands off my breast and had him roll his fingertips over my clit until I was shivering with it all. After a while, I fell forward, directing his mouth and tongue to my hardened nipples so that when he came I was shivering with the texture of his tongue against the hardened surface of my nipples.

“When you get competitive, you don’t slow down, do you?” he teased.

The plain fact was I was too tired to go much further. I’d spent the day exercising and the evening erotically exhausting every muscle I had, all in the thin air of a mountain top.

“I don’t slow down with you, not ever,” I said. “Now, since I won, you are going to hold me gently but firmly, all night long. You are going to keep me warm, and safe and I am going to hold on to you and go to sleep telling myself how much I love you. No backtalk is permitted, except that you can tell me you love me; now kiss me to sleep.”

“I love you,” he said, and then he gently kissed me to sleep just as he had been ordered to do.

I knew my period of dominance was at an end the next morning when I woke, once again, hot and wet with his thumb rolling my clit and his fingers stroking my pelvic bone and flicking my G-spot. In fact, I think it was an orgasm that woke me. He kept it up while another orgasm opened my eyes further and then he rolled over on top of me. He picked up on the fact that his tongue on my nipple when he came was something I really liked, so he did it again. This was, of course, the absolute best way in the world to wake up. And what was really neat about it was that I didn’t have to push a button to do it again. I could just keep right on going and he’d get hard again, and… well, I guess that is pushing buttons, but they are a lot more fun than the one on an alarm clock.

Kate brought over a second fairy costume, and because we were finished with the first, she took it back to salvage pieces from it. She promised two for Monday and the rest by Friday.

It was getting easier to work because we’d found such a great rhythm over the last two days. Peter determined that we had what we needed by lunchtime. When we were done eating, he reached over and pulled me down on the blanket and pulled my skirt up. He kissed me up the inside of my leg and pulled my panties down. He licked his way over my lips to my clit and basically rolled his tongue over my clit, sliding his fingers inside of me. It was all very slow and I just lay back with it, feeling it build up. When I started making noises, I noticed a couple squirrels watch me from a gold and red oak tree. A funny thought crossed my mind. Are squirrels voyeurs by nature? Mickey always watched through the window. The orgasm rocked me a bit because it was sort of sneaky and unexpected, at least when it came, I didn’t think I was that hot, but apparently I was.

After I made dinner that night, I agonized over what to take to Santa Barbara. I really didn’t have a wardrobe that was built to impress my future in-laws. Most everything I owned was made to expose a lot of skin to the open air. The tops, for the most part, revealed that I was a healthy mammal with shoulders, one or more of which was bare. The leggings were pretty much form fitting to the point of differing from the effect of not wearing any was one of color only. The skirts and dresses existed to save me having two more cheeks to powder. I finally settled on my longest mini dress, because the top portion was relatively loose, and the wrap skirt with leggings, hoping that one deficiency would cover the other. Since I slept in the nude, about the only thing I had to sleep in was a very light blue peignoir set with a few strategic cut outs I lost a catfight in and that was so sheer you could get a tan wearing it in bright sunlight. I added a bikini to wear under the peignoir if push came to shove.

Peter found all of this amusing for some reason, so for the first time since we met, I went to bed with him mad at him.

Of course, there is mad and then there is Mad, and since I was only mad it only took him ten minutes longer to have me squealing and gushing. Sex had never been this good for me. In fact, except for the pure heat of it and the climaxes – which until Peter, were mostly given, not taken – it was never very good at all. Plug in, plug out, be kept awake by his snoring. This time, his tongue on my nipple produced an orgasm that matched his climax. I mean, it’s something one would have to experience, because describing it is impossible.

We went down the back of the mountain, through Apple Valley and Victorville, picking up the freeway in Lancaster, and then taking the highway through Gorman to the Grapevine and Five, then the highway again at Santa Clarita through Fillmore, Santa Paula and Ojai before meeting the 101 at Carpentaria just south of Santa Barbara. Peter said it was almost seventy miles shorter than taking the freeway from San Bernardino, but because it was mostly highway and not freeway, it wasn’t any faster. Peter’s parents lived practically on the beach in an area of really big homes; I guess they should probably be called mansions. As a girl raised in a tract house in Reseda, I really wasn’t up on exactly where the dividing line between house and mansion fell.

The party was a barbecue on the back lawn, which ended against a retaining wall with steps down to the beach, and which was larger than a football field.

He introduced me to his mother, Rachel, first. To my great relief, her dress was shorter than mine and she showed more cleavage than all but my most radical tops. I was beginning to understand why Peter was confident in my attire, but damn, he could have told me.

Rachel didn’t look like she had had any work done; usually the nose job is the first and she rather aggressively hadn’t had one. She was a rather handsome woman, with very strong features; strong enough that you wouldn’t venture to call her pretty. She had obviously taken care of herself physically because her build was that of a twenty-something, and being twenty-something, it was something I knew something about.

He introduced me as Mary, which opened a door.

“So,” Rachel said, “your name is Martha. I knew that someday, you’d show up.”

We walked away and I asked him how his mother knew my name; had he told her?

“When I was little, my favorite aunt, Mom’s sister, was named Martha. She introduced me to art, drawing, painting. She took me to the opera and the ballet. I used to say that I would grow up and marry her; when I was really little I meant it, as I grew up it sort of became a joke.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Only in Forest Lawn; she died of cancer when I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Come meet Dad. He might surprise you a bit.”

Well, there are surprises and there are surprises. Peter’s father happened to be Harrison Baker, who had won the Academy Award as Best Supporting Actor the previous February. When Peter introduced me as Mary, he bent over and kissed my cheek.

“We’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he said.

“You could have mentioned who your father was. You could have mentioned that you knew from the beginning where we were headed,” I said.

“I could also have mentioned that I have a brother-in-law who runs Boeing and another who is the chief financial officer at Disney. Then there is Uncle Grant, who runs Mutual of Pittsburgh, the insurance company, and Aunt Georgia who is married to the man who has the exclusive right to import Audis. Actually, half the time I’m embarrassed by the fact that I really am the only member of the family who isn’t a big noise.”

“You’re a big enough noise for me,” I said. “More than big enough.” Suddenly, I stopped and gasped as my past started to catch up with me. “Wait a second. Is that who I think it is?”

“You mean, is that Cash?”

“Well that is who I think it is.”

“Cash’s my cousin. How do you think he gets away with amazingly bad movies, even for porn?”

“Cash’s your cousin, and he doesn’t really have to make money, so he makes bad triple X films and drowns in big bosomed ladies?”

“Actually, he does make money at it, a lot of money,” Peter responded. “Not only on his films, but on distributing about half the triple X films that get made, and on the chain of 62 ‘art’ theaters he owns.”

Peter waved to Cash and he came over to us. Cash wrapped me in a big hug, which further displayed how many changes had taken place since I was whisked away from his yard. If he had tried to hug me back then, I would have decked him for trying to make a move. Now, the hug was intended – and received – as a familial bond and completely non-threatening.

“I’m thinking about a new business venture,” Cash said. “How does Mitchell’s Marvelous Matchmaking strike you?”

“I won’t say you’re bad at it,” I said, clinging to Peter’s arm. “How’s life in the Valley?”

“Same old, same old. Jimmy’s looking everywhere for you, it’s kind of funny. Carrie isn’t the sharpest pencil in the box, so he’s looking for a middle-aged guy in a Mercedes Benz. Does anybody but me in the Valley know where Little Lisa has gone?”

“My parents, in Reseda, but seeing as my dad’s a cop, I seriously doubt Jimmy will find out much from that source. Still, Jimmy likes to play with his gun. He might threaten you.”

“He tried that once, which is why he is aware of just how much influence I can buy, if I have to,” Cash responded dryly. “Jimmy isn’t a threat to me. You like the mountains?”