Bossy (3 page)

Forget Michael. I’m here with... Shit, I still don’t know his name. It doesn’t matter. He might not be Mr. Right, but he’s definitely Mr. Right Freaking Now.

His deep blue eyes are stormy with lust, and as he stands over me, his hungry gaze makes me feel wanted. Desired. Any instinct I have to cover myself is torn away by his intensity.

Crossing his arms over his torso, he grabs his shirt and peels it off his body. Oh my God. The tattoos are all over. Writhing like they’re alive as he moves, they cover his arms and chest, clinging to his muscles, caressing the V that points right into his pants.

Rainbow hued dragons and inky black abstract designs entwine in a way that blends them together in an uneasy truce, creating a balance where it seems they should clash. Whoever did his tattoos is a master, because they’re gorgeous. I trace them with my fingers and watch his skin jump under my touch.

“Come here,” he commands as he puts his strong hands on my hips and pulls my ass right up to the edge of the bed.

I squeal in surprise. Talk about knowing what he wants. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

He drops to his knees with that cocky grin of his and flips my skirt up to expose my panties. “You better believe it.” God, I wish I’d worn a sexier pair. I might’ve dressed like I wanted to get laid tonight on the outside, but I hadn’t expected that it would actually happen. I’m not even sure he notices. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

I don’t know what to say. Instead I whimper. I want to blame it on the alcohol, but that buzz is fading fast, replaced by a hazy lust, a buzz of a more urgent kind but just as incapacitating. He leans forward and hooks his fingers under the elastic waistband, pulling down my panties with one quick tug.

And I don’t stop him.

The frilly scrap of cotton joins the rest of our clothes on the floor. He pushes my legs apart, forcing me to open to his hungry eyes. I want to freak out. Looking at me so closely? But all I see in his face is admiration, like he’s heading straight for the Promised Land.

With a crooked grin, he puts a soft kiss on the inside of my thigh. Then another, each one coming closer to my wet core. His soft lips contrast to the scratch of his stubble. With every touch, he sends another tingle rushing through me, arcing over my skin like little electric shocks. The closer he gets, the more I ache for him.

“No... you don’t have to—” I want it so bad, but Michael never... No, I’m done giving that waste of space room in my head. Not here. Never again.

“I want to. I told you I never make promises I can’t keep.”

The best fucking night of my life, he’d said. I swallow while he leans in to make good on it.

E
xcept the bastard makes me wait.

He’s so, so close, and I’m already shutting my eyes tight and breathing heavily in anticipation when he pulls back and starts all over on my other leg. I beat the bed with my fists in frustration. “You tease!”

He laughs. “You in a hurry? Got a hot date later?”

“Yes, with my vibrator if you don’t hurry it up!” I snarl, but I just earn more laughter.

It feels like forever before his lips are finally kissing the crease at the top of my thigh, so close I can feel his hot breath brush over me. His nibbles continue, all around except right where I want him the most.

I can’t take it anymore. “Do it.”

“What? Was that an order I heard?” His fingers softly caress my thighs and his mouth hovers right over my center. “I can do this all night, babe. Are you sure you want to push me?”

I growl, low in my throat. Since when do I growl?

“Beg for it.” His mouth is so close, but no matter how much I squirm he doesn’t touch me. “Beg for it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

I beat the bed again, but God, I want it so much. I’ve never felt so charged with someone before, not with anyone. I don’t even know him, but somehow he brings it out in me with just a touch or a kiss.

I give him what he wants. What does it matter if this is just for one night? “Please,” I whisper. “Please do it.”

Even though I know what he’s about to do, I gasp sharply as his tongue parts my folds, sliding wetly up until he flicks the tip right over my clit. I shiver, chills racing through me, all the way out to my fingertips and toes. Swirling his tongue, kissing and nibbling, he drives me crazy while his strong hands hold me open.

The sensations are too much. Everything I’d wanted threatens to push me over the edge way too quickly. My muscles seize and my soft gasps turn to loud moans as he drives me right up to the brink. I’m just about to plunge over the edge when he pulls back with a wet grin.

“Please. No more teasing.” I can’t take it. He can’t stop now. “I need to come!”

“You’re right. No more teasing.” He stands while unbuckling his pants, letting them drop around his ankles. His thighs are as powerful as the rest of him, but what gets my attention is the bulge in his boxer briefs. The soft fabric is distended around the large and obviously very erect cock inside. I think he’s looking at me, but I have to admit I’m struggling to raise my gaze. Almost casually, he tugs his underwear down, letting himself bounce free.

Wow.

Picking up his pants, he pulls a plastic packet out of a pocket and tears it open, obviously prepared. It smarts a little that I’m just another notch on his bedpost, but he’s giving me exactly what I need. I went into this with my eyes wide open and he’s been nothing but honest.

Cocky, but honest.

He climbs onto the bed, settling between my legs and guiding himself with his hand. “I’m going to fuck you until I feel you come all over my cock, then do it all over again.” His voice drips with confidence, and I have no reason to doubt him. Staring at him wide-eyed, I hold my breath and nod.

He sinks into me slowly, giving me all of him in one long, smooth thrust. So big, he stretches me open and takes my breath away. Lying over me, he supports his weight on his hands while his powerful hips drive his length deep into my core.

I’ve never come so quickly from sex alone, but all the tension that built up while he licked is threateningly close to releasing. I arch against him while I reach up and slide my fingers into his hair, clutching him to me like I’m afraid he’ll disappear.

“So hungry,” he whispers, his voice rough in my ear. “You’ve been starving too long, baby.”

I don’t care that he’s cocky anymore, because he’s right. Nobody has ever given me this before, and I’m just starting to see how much I’ve been missing. If I only have tonight, I’m going to savor every second of it.

My screams echo in my ears as I come apart around him, just like he promised. The world falls away, giving way to swirls of color and flashes of light. Fireworks go off behind my eyelids, blinding me while he keeps fucking me with steady strokes. I’m floating and I don’t ever want to come back down.

“More.” I arch my back and pull him deeper.

He chuckles and gives me what I need. “Now who’s bossy?”

He makes good on his promise, driving me over the brink more times than I ever dreamed possible before he finally groans, presses deep and stops moving. His wears a faraway look, and there’s a content smile on his face as he lets go. He’s kept his promises and then some, but he can’t claim for a second that he hasn’t gotten plenty out of this too.

Empty, he rolls off and drops onto his back next to me. We’re both breathing like we’ve finished a marathon, but it’s not long before he thickens again. I must look shocked when I take in his quick recovery, since he laughs when I do, right before he reaches over to pull out another condom. I didn’t even know guys could go more than once, but he’s not getting any complaints from me.

He climbs over me, and then I forget everything as he takes me again. And again.

Eventually we wring each other dry, and he captures my mouth with his before thrusting deep and shuddering one last time. When we finally drift off into sleep, me curled up in his powerful arms with his broad chest against my back, it’s closer to early than late. He’s kept his promise. This might’ve been the best night of my life.

When I wake up, it’s the crack of noon, and he’s long gone. A quick pang of disappointment surprises me. I knew the deal, and I guess he spoke the truth. He fulfilled his promises, and sticking around wasn’t on the list. Still, it would’ve been nice to find him here when I opened my eyes, even if it was just for another go.

I glance around my room, wincing at the sight of my clothes strewn all over the floor along with enough condom wrappers to make me do a double take.

With a sigh, I shake my head and try to grasp what I’ve just done. A one night stand. Exactly the sort of thing I usually frown at other people doing.

At least my clothes for today are still neatly folded on the chair. My apartment isn’t large, but without all of Michael’s stuff, it feels really empty. I had no idea how much of what we had was his until it was suddenly gone. Not that I miss any of it. Well, maybe his espresso machine.

But like Michael, I’m sure it can be replaced.

My bed is really big and empty without someone to wake up with. It’d been nice to fall asleep next to someone last night, even if it was fleeting. It’s probably for the best that we didn’t exchange information, because it would be all too easy for me to beg for a repeat performance.

This way I can keep my pride because I know it’s not going to happen. It was just sex. Great sex, but just sex. I’m grateful he showed me how much more I should expect from a lover, but what else could there be? Nothing but heartache over a man who makes no promises.

Besides, I don’t even know his name.

- Four Months Later -

T
he elevator dings when I reach the top floor. Fifty-four freaking stories up. As a lowly intern, I have to take what they give me, but I hope there’ll be a window where I sit. The view’s got to be incredible. On a beautiful June day like this I bet you can see forever from up here.

Maybe I’ll sneak a picture later, but I want to look professional, not like some country yokel on her first visit to the big city. I straighten my skirt in a hurry and tug at my lapels before the door opens. Even and neat.

Stepping out, it’s like walking onto the set of a 1950s office drama. Dark red wallpaper. Small chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. A massive reception desk made from solid polished wood. Behind it is a large open office area full of busy employees typing away on their laptops. Good to see not everything is stuck in the 50s, but there’s a real typewriter on a table further back, set up like a display piece.

In front of the reception desk is a thick area rug that swallows up the clack of my heels as I approach. Behind it sits a white-haired, middle-aged man who peers at me over thick, horn rimmed glasses, balanced precariously near the tip of his rounded nose. He’s wearing a white office shirt, but with sleeve garters.

Where do you even buy stuff like that? Maybe they came with the typewriter.

I push down the urge to giggle, because he doesn’t look like the type that would be amused.

He stands. “Ms. Anderson, I presume?” His voice is just as stodgy and emotionless as his expression. He seems entirely unenthused to be here, and like my presence is about as welcome as a fly in his soup. Not a great start. I hope he’s not a reflection of the rest of the office.

I nod. “Yes, that’s me. I’m here to meet Declan Riordan.”

“Ms. Anderson,” He pushes his glasses back into place and my palms start to sweat. “Do you know the difference between a dead lawyer and a dead dog in the street?”

I blink. Words fail me, and I wonder if I’ve had some sort of altitude related mini-stroke on my way up that left me unable to understand English. Is he telling a joke?

“There’re skid marks in front of the dog,” he replies without so much as cracking a grin.

Do I laugh here? I don’t know. Am I on camera? For a moment the only sound is the soft hum of the office behind him while we stare at each other.

The moment of silence drags on. So awkward. My gaze flicks around the office while I try to come up with an appropriate response. Heat rushes to my face when I can’t. “I—”

He slaps his hand to his desk, breaking into uncontrolled laughter. “Oh God, you’re the best one yet.” He slaps again, laughing so hard he has to support himself on the counter. He looks up at me, his bright eyes crinkled in laughter. “You should see your face right now.” He can barely gasp out the words.

I can only stare in wonder, hoping my heart starts beating again before I pass out.

Finally, he gathers himself, standing up straight. “I’m sorry. They say it takes a while to get used to me, which isn’t a very good trait in a receptionist.” He puts his hand out. “I’m Carl. Welcome to Riordan & Flynn. Technically, it’s just Riordan since Flynn was bought out years ago, but two names sounds more professional. Don’t you think?” He’s still grinning, but I’ve recovered enough to decide he means well, even if he’s a little crazy.

“Absolutely.” I take his hand as he steps out from behind his desk. “I’m Claire, the new intern. Which you probably already knew... Sorry, nerves.”

He’s gracious enough not to tease me about it, and his friendly smile doesn’t falter. “Here, let me show you the way. It’s a big office and we’d hate to lose you on your first day. When I first started, I hardly ever left my desk, afraid that I wouldn’t find the way back.” He winks. “Besides, Mr. Riordan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Alrighty, then. “Sure. Lead the way.” What have I gotten myself into?

Befriend the receptionists
, my economics professor once told me. They’re the gatekeepers.  The ones who determine whether your paperwork ends up on top of the pile or buried in the “archive”. My professor never met Carl, but he seems harmless enough. When he turns to look at me with an arched eyebrow, I smile and hurry after him.

I try not to be too obvious about watching the flurry of activity around me. In the open landscape, it’s like an ant farm, stylish people sitting desk to desk, hurriedly typing, murmuring in low tones and looking very busy and important. Will I fit in here? This internship is exactly what I need for a jump start before I start law school in the fall, but I feel so out of my depth.