The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2) (5 page)

“I want you to watch me fuck you. Eyes on mine the whole time, or I stop.”

She nodded and I rewarded her by slipping another finger into her, tilting her hips back so I could have more access. I worked her hard, so crazed to get inside her that I didn’t worry about finesse. She needed to come, so I could feel her do it again around my dick—even if it was with that damnable piece of latex between us. The harder I flexed my hand, the deeper she dug her nails into my forearm. I’d wear her branding too now, amidst my ink. Pity it wouldn’t last.

When her quivering around my fingers turned into a full-fledged shudder, I caught her moan with my mouth. I couldn’t help it. Tasting the hit of caffeine and sugar on her tongue from her soda while she drenched my palm made me dizzy. I couldn’t get enough. I sucked on her tongue even as her clenching pussy pulled at my fingers. Tight, hot, relentless.

Before she’d even finished coming, I drew my hand away and grabbed the condom she’d given me. Thank God for not-so-small favors. I undid my pants the rest of the way and tugged out my length. Slowly, I slicked the latex on my erection with fingers that were still wet from her, allowing her to see the streaks of dampness on my flesh. I wanted her to suck them off my cock, to taste us mixed together, but it couldn’t happen. Not here, where she would have to kneel on a floor too many other feet had trod upon.

The vestibule had been different. It was cleaned spotless on a nightly basis because it was the first thing people saw upon entering the building. But a bathroom…something about it seemed sordid, and not in an erotic way. If I hadn’t been so incensed to have her, I never would’ve taken her there.

Next time, it would be different.

Even as the declaration registered, I cut it off. There would be no next time. There couldn’t be. There shouldn’t even have been a
this
time, never mind another.

“Please,” she breathed, and I gripped my cock, shaking off the thoughts that had no place taking root.

I cupped my hand around her hips, hauling her closer so I could take one more long sip from her mouth. She wound herself around me, and I rubbed the head against her pussy, absorbing the noises she made like air. The relief that came from knowing she was nearly as desperate as I was made me too rough with her as I tilted her toward me and slammed home. So rough that she cried out and I couldn’t even try to stifle the sound.

Then she was tugging apart buttons on my shirt to get to my skin, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. She didn’t bother with my tie this time, and instead went upward from the bottom. Halfway up, she stopped and gripped my sides, digging in and yanking me toward her so that I bottomed out inside of her snug channel. So fucking deep.

I groaned and she pressed her face to my throat, licking my Adam’s apple and making my balls tighten to the point of pain. Damn, she felt good. Every place where our skin made contact felt like heaven. I couldn’t get deep enough this way, but I needed to see her face as I fucked her. Watching her in the mirror wouldn’t be enough. I had to know this same crazy thing was happening to her too, that I wasn’t caught up in it alone.

I’d been alone for too goddamn long.

Cupping her face, I pressed my lips to hers and reveled in the sensation of her gripping me inside and out. The bite of her nails, the suction of her pussy. She surrounded me in warmth, in something I strained toward even as I knew I shouldn’t allow myself to get this close. I usually fucked women bent over something, facing away from me. Not always, but I definitely didn’t seek out intimacy.

Part of why I loved to watch was because then no one was watching me.

“Blake.” Her saying my name sounded like a benediction. Not Mr. Carson. Not sir. In this space, I was Blake.

And she was Grace.

I owed her that, the honesty of saying her name. Even if it burned my throat as I rasped it against her temple. “Grace.” When she shook around me, her walls fisting me one last time before she let go, I said it again as my hips battered hers. I didn’t even have to think about fucking her now. It had become automatic. “Come for me now, Grace.”

She buried her face in my chest and I pressed my mouth against her hair, absorbing the smell of lilacs and the equally arousing scent of us, together. I’d never imagined doing anything like this in the company I’d built, and now I’d done it twice.

With her. Only with her.

She clamped down on me, vising tight, and I muffled my shout into her hair as I followed her and emptied myself into the condom. She wasn’t the only one shuddering. I was too. I only realized it when her soft voice cut through the fog in my head and the feeling of her small hands curling around my waist finally broke through the haze.

“It’s okay. Shh, Blake. It’s okay.”

I wanted to burrow into her, to hold on like nothing could ever separate us. But I wasn’t a fanciful man. I’d turned my art into an empire, because art for the sake of beauty alone was meaningless. I’d taught myself that so long ago that I almost couldn’t remember when I’d believed otherwise.

Almost.

But Grace did. The ocean-tinted eyes shining up at me under a fringe of curling blond hair believed in things I couldn’t allow myself.

The trust and hope in her expression was what shut me down. What had me untangling myself from her and backing away.

Not because it was too much, but because I wasn’t enough.

I stripped off the condom and disposed of it and zipped myself back into my pants. Yet again I’d kept most of my clothes on. This time, she had too.

Something else I could regret. Later. First I had to end this moment before she realized that I was laughably out of my depth.

“I’ll wait for you to get ready,” I said, stepping back. Every step I put between us felt like a chasm.

“For what? Oh, yes, back on that again.” She shook her head and hopped off the sink. She’d lost one of her heels and she slipped it back on while straightening her clothes.

Somehow what we’d done had barely caused a wrinkle in her skirt or a hair out of place.

It was like that tornado in a bottle I’d made for a school science fair as a kid. In that small space, chaos reigned. Outside it, the air was still, the landscape undisturbed.

I might still be trying to regain my breath, and my tie might be tight enough to choke me, but Grace was already on her way back to normal. And I’d better catch up quick unless I wanted her to know the effect she had on me.

She was my tornado, and the glass walls were so fucking close to shattering.

“Ten minutes, Ms. Copeland.” The words tangled together until I had to practically spit them out. It seemed wrong to call her anything but Grace when her skin was still flushed from what we’d done. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

I turned away, but not before I glimpsed the pure malice that crossed her face. I opened the door and closed it behind me just as something heavy thunked against the door.

Her shoe, maybe. Had to be her shoe.

Oddly, her impulsive action made me smile. She wasn’t quite so unaffected after all.

I scraped a hand down the back of my neck, collecting the perspiration drying there. My clothes were sticking to me after our exertions. I needed a shower, long and cold.

And I needed to jerk off under the spray to the memory of her fisting my dick, her soft golden hair clinging to my lips as we ground ourselves into each other.

I started down the hall to my office and glanced at my arm. The cuff was still dangling open, revealing part of my tattoo. Woven through the pattern of thick black ink were about a half dozen angry red crescent moons from her nails.

She’d marked me in her more ways than one.

S
he kept me waiting
.

It didn’t surprise me. What did, however, was her response when I finally left my office and stopped by her desk, my umbrella tucked under my arm.

“Dammit, I’m not going home with you.”

My eyebrow raised. I wasn’t offended, merely curious. “That might wound me, had I any intention of inviting you to my house.” It wasn’t technically a home. I slept there sometimes, and the closet held my clothes, but it wasn’t a home in the truest sense of the word.

Despite being an architect, I had no idea what that word actually meant.

“Oh, of course not. You can fuck me here, but you wouldn’t actually deign to allow me into your rarefied air.” She jerked to her feet, her boat-sized purse in one hand and her keys in the other. No umbrella, I noticed. No rain slicker. Nothing to shield all that leather and all that…hose from the elements.

I wasn’t thinking about her garters or her purple lace panties. I definitely wasn’t thinking about the nail-me-heels that had left an impression in my ass.

“Where’s your vehicle? You had one the night we—” I cleared my throat. “Where’s your vehicle?” I repeated.

“In the shop.”

Maybe that was why she hadn’t wanted to buy lunch. If she was more strapped than usual, she’d probably need to cut back. Hopefully the stipend would help.

I remembered all too well what it was like to not have more than a few pennies to my name. I didn’t want her to experience what I had. She was the granddaughter of a local scion. She shouldn’t have to struggle for even a moment.

“Is the problem serious?”

Ignoring me, she tugged out her phone, glanced at it, then shoved it back in her bag. “Look, really, this isn’t necessary. It’s a quick walk to the train and—”

“It’s pouring out.” I inclined my chin toward the wall of windows and the rain slicking down them. “You’ll be drenched in an instant.”

“Not the first time in my life I’ve been wet.” She shot me a look under her lashes, then sighed and hoisted her bag on her shoulder. “Okay. Just a ride to the train.”

I intended to drive her all the way home, but that inevitable fight could wait a few more minutes. Why have all my fun at once?

We walked down to the parking garage in silence. The building was nearly tomb-quiet, but I knew the cameras were still going. Whatever Violet thought about us walking out together, the fact remained was that we certainly didn’t appear to have engaged in intimate contact recently. Grace stayed as far away from me as she possibly could, walking stiffly in those seductive shoes that made her ass sway. I wished I could walk behind her to get the entire effect, but other than opening doors for her, that probably would’ve been a bit obvious.

I led her to my Land Rover and she got inside, buckling up in silence. I’d begun to think she wouldn’t speak at all until we were miles from the home address she’d listed in Marblehead on her employment form. I knew the area well, since I owned several properties there—including my latest acquisition, which was far more important than all the rest—and the street she’d indicated didn’t ring a bell. The town proper wasn’t large, but it had a few streets that were strictly zoned commercial, though there were a few residential buildings scattered among the businesses.

“Stop here,” she said once we were a couple of blocks from the address I’d memorized.

I frowned, glancing around. “We’re not on—”

“There’s a new all-night coffee shop on the corner. I spend my evenings there before I go home.” She tugged a small generic-brand tablet out of her bag and waved it, along with a stylus. “I’m into those coloring apps.”

“A coloring app? What the hell is that?”

She shook her head as if I was impossibly daft. Perhaps I was. “It’s just what it sounds like. It’s an app where you color onscreen using your stylus or your finger. It’s not quite as satisfying as holding a colored pencil, but it’s still fun.”

“Or eating a crayon,” I mused.

She laughed as I swung to the curb near the coffee place. “What? You eat crayons?”

“Ate. Turquoise tasted the best. Of course this was back in kindergarten, so they’ve most likely changed all the colors now. They’re probably all girly.”

“Because turquoise is so manly.”

“Hmph.” I hit the button to unlock the car and glanced around at the hushed, water-logged streets, uncomfortable with leaving her there even if her street was close by. But the coffee shop looked inviting inside, with low lights and people clustered around tables. “I can join you, wait until you’re ready to go.”

Her safety wasn’t my only consideration. Marblehead wasn’t exactly a dangerous environment. I was also curious about this app she’d mentioned, I had to admit.

And perhaps I was in no hurry at all to return to my own quiet, empty house.

“I’ll be here for hours. Surely you have better things to do with your time than play footsy with me.”

“Play footsy?” That was an intriguing idea. Almost as intriguing as not worrying about being caught on camera. I was known in this town and in much of this area, but still, Marblehead offered me a slice of sanctuary I’d found nowhere else.

Which was why when my dream home had entered the market, I’d snapped it up. Annabelle Stuart’s place was a home, because she’d made it so. I’d yet to go inside it since her death, because I wasn’t ready to face the reality of that house—of the world—without her in it.

How did Grace, I wondered, and nearly asked her until I remembered the lines that divided us weren’t only boss and employee. She didn’t know who I was, not really. Not like I knew her.

The sound of old swings echoed in my mind, that endless creak. The scuff of sneakers dragging against the ground as she achieved liftoff. Long blond braids, a plaid skirt and white knee socks, and a smile that lit up the universe.

I could hear her voice in my head. Childish then, but still Grace.

“
Higher, Grams. Higher.”

“I’m sure footsy isn’t elite enough for someone like you.” Grace reached for the door handle. “I’m good on my own, but thanks.”

“Tomorrow night,” I said, struggling to keep my tone steady. I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight yet, but I had no choice. “You’re going to the community awareness gathering?”

“I said I was, didn’t I?”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at the office at six. I need assistance with some materials.”

Even in the darkness of the car, there was no missing how her shoulders stiffened. “You do realize the weekend means I’m off the clock.”

“We’re going to the same place. It makes sense that we travel together. I could pick you up at home if you’d rather,” I said lightly.

For some reason, I knew that was off the table. I wasn’t the most intuitive guy in the world—the term “oblivious” had been used a few times by my exes—but I had a good guess why Grace didn’t want me to drive her home. It wasn’t because she was concerned I’d demand to see her bedroom.

She must think her place wasn’t up to snuff, which was ridiculous. Marblehead didn’t have anything but nice houses. Even if it did, what did I care? As long as she was safe and she liked her accommodations, I’d never make any bones about her living arrangements. I’d once lived way too close to the gutter myself.

“I’ll meet you at the office,” she muttered, opening the door.

“On the roof.”

She glanced back at me, her hair whipping into her face from the wind. Rain spattered into the car, but I liked the feeling of it on my hot skin too much to wipe it away. “Did you say the roof?”

“I did.” She liked to go higher, so at least I could give her that if I couldn’t offer her anything else. “Take this.” I pushed my umbrella across the seat. “Can’t have you out sick and missing work.”

She shot me a look and grabbed the umbrella, unfolding it for her two minute run into the building. I watched her close it up and duck inside, then rush up to the counter. More tea, perhaps? My mouth watered. It hadn’t been so bad, especially with sugar.

Once she had a cup of something, she came back to the big picture window and sat down. And saw me still idling at the curb, watching.

She lifted her hand in a wave, full of impatience. I could practically hear her telling me to go.

So I did.

Once I was home, I took a shower—without touching my dick, which had been a feat of epic proportions—and pulled on a pair of silk pajama bottoms. I picked up my phone and clicked on the app store, then typed in
coloring app
.

What the hell, right?

Six hours later, I finally set aside my phone and climbed into bed. My eyes were blurry from staring at pixelated colors for so long on that tiny screen. Next time I would open it on my tablet.

No, I would not. I would delete that stupid app. Coloring was for children. Especially coloring in an
app
.

“So stupid.” I punched my pillow and closed my sore eyes.

The next morning, I went for my usual five mile run. When I returned, my mother’s car was in the drive. She and a stocky blond man were waiting by my front door, broad smiles on their faces.

“There you are,” my mother said, patting her companion’s arm. “That’s my boy.”

“Blake, is it?” The man held out his hand and I shook automatically, though I had no doubt he knew who I was. That he’d known even before he’d hooked up with my mother.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yes. Blake. You’re Brant.” I didn’t tack on a question, because I’d recognized him right away.

I’d researched him after my conversation with my mother the other day, and what I’d found matched her usual boyfriend. Questionable past that included a couple of minor incarcerations, sketchy work history, four failed marriages. I tried not to judge considering my own history, but when it came to my mother, I wasn’t good at giving the benefit of the doubt.

“That I am. We were hoping to sit down with you, maybe have some lunch. If the staff can whip something up on such short notice,” he said with a wink.

“There is no staff.” I unlocked my door and led the way inside, bypassing the fountain to toss my keys on a fancy ass pedestal table some associate had given me at a housewarming party. I hadn’t thrown it for myself. That had been Jack’s idea, more to piss me off than anything else.

For a former Ranger, Jack thought he was damn entertaining. When I’d hired him, I’d expected a gruff, rough military type. He definitely had that side. He was just choosy about showing it.

I had no doubt he’d be showing it to Brant right now. But I had a gruff, rough side of my own.

“No staff?” Brant repeated, clearly shocked. “This place isn’t as big as I figured it would be, what with the bazillions and all, but these are nice digs. Who keeps it up for you?”

“I keep it up for me.” I turned to face the pair of them. My mother was wrapped around him like a vine, her hopeful expression both reminding me of Grace’s last night and stirring my anger. At
him
, not her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also wouldn’t tread gently if this asshole turned out to be a money-grubber like the rest.

We weren’t off to a great start.

“I have two arms, two legs, two hands and two feet. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own affairs.”

“He doesn’t like people,” my mother confided to Brant.

“Oh. Well then, that makes sense. Reclusive billionaire, slumming it in an ordinary neighborhood. Hiding in plain sight.” He gave me a toothy grin and I barely resisted the urge to plant my fist.

Violent tendencies weren’t usually a problem for me. Neither was mind-erasing lust. If this was yet another facet to my…whatever the hell it was with Grace, I would be sure to express my displeasure in a way that suited us both.

Like fucking the holy hell out of her.

“He’s not hiding. Are you hiding, Blake? All those fancy schmancy females you used to parade around with certainly kept you in the public eye.”

Used to
being the operative words. I’d spent some time sampling all the delicacies that came along with being filthy rich. That time had passed.

Now I just wanted to be left alone to work.

“Mother, I have plans this afternoon.” They consisted of work and more work—work I was behind on thanks to my obsession with observing Grace in her natural office environment—before we attended the Light Up The Night event. “My schedule is packed right now, but perhaps we could make plans for another day.”

One far in the future. Hopefully by then she would’ve broken up with the sod and I wouldn’t have to kick his ass to the curb for her.

“But we’re here now.” I hated seeing that crestfallen expression in her face almost as much as I couldn’t stand knowing the con artist at her side was most likely casing the joint. Slums or not.

“I don’t have much food. It’s just me,” I added when Brant prepared to launch into his latest diatribe. “I don’t stock a lot because I won’t eat it, so I’m unfortunately unprepared for guests.”

“We could go out,” Brant suggested. “It’s just a matter of sitting down and bonding, son.” He moved forward to clap my shoulder and I swear to God, every muscle in my arm tensed in preparation to swing.

I couldn’t do this. Not today. I didn’t know when I’d be able to, but definitely not now. I was already so raw and ragged from Grace, and I had to be ready for Jimmy’s awareness gathering tonight.

“My biological father is dead,” I said coldly. “He never earned the right to call me son, and you damn sure haven’t.”

I glanced at my mother and tried not to be affected by the horror in her eyes. That their hazel color was a mirror of my own made it twice as hard. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I didn’t know whether or not that would be true, or if she’d pick her new man of the moment over me. She’d done it before. I didn’t even blame her for it. She’d been looking for love for a long time, and my father sure hadn’t provided any.

But that didn’t mean I could subject myself to being a pawn in her search. Or worse, a trophy offered to the man who finally pinned her down for good.

Halfway up the stairs, I heard the front door close behind them. They didn’t slam it, but closed it as softly as a gunshot muffled by a suppressor.