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Authors: Cari Quinn,Taryn Elliott

The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2) (7 page)

BOOK: The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2)
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Even with an ocean of pale blue lights and reflective glass all around me, I would’ve been caught in the dark.

When I finally finished my speech, it was the event organizer’s turn, then finally Jimmy’s parents approached the podium, their hands clenched tightly together. In halting words, they thanked everyone for coming before the park began to empty for the planned walk through the streets. I moved toward Grace, and silently we joined the others, eventually falling toward the back of the large group.

It seemed as if we walked for miles, chanting the words “Find Jimmy.” I cast a quick look at Grace and she was staring straight ahead, mouthing the words, her focus centered entirely on our group leader as we walked along the damp streets.

Once we reached the walk’s planned end at yet another park, there was another quick round of speeches and a moment of applause for Carson Covenant’s sponsorship of the event. I didn’t want undue attention so I merely raised my lantern in appreciation of their gratitude.

The instant the spotlight shifted back onto Jimmy’s parents and the large glossy photo of their son that they carried, I reached down and gripped Grace’s hand, tugging her away from the crowds.

I’d reached my limit on socialization tonight. Now I needed to be alone with her. To study her face in flickering candlelight, full of joy once more. I couldn’t stand to see her somber.

She’d been that the day of Annabelle’s funeral, her head bent, her long hair streaming to shield her expression. I hadn’t needed to glimpse her pain to know the grief that seized her. I’d felt just a fraction and it had been crippling.

“Are you hungry?” I asked quietly, drawing her with me up the street. Without realizing, I’d tucked her arm under mine and was dragging her with me.

When I’d had enough, I’d had enough.

She glanced down at my hold then up at my face. “You’re holding my hand.”

I didn’t let go. I couldn’t just yet. “Is it bothering you?”

“Not as much as the fact that my feet have barely touched the ground in the last fifty paces. Holy fast. Slow down, Speedy.”

I smiled and relaxed my grip. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just short legs here. Respect the short legs.”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “Your legs are perfect, just like the rest of you.”

“You’ve already been in my pants. No need to whip out the flattery now.”

I lowered my head and brushed my lips against her hair. I was trying to be circumspect while we were in public, but she made it so very difficult. “Skirt both times. I’ve never seen you in pants.”

“My preference is overalls, when I work on my projects. Only problem is I tend to forget to put on shirts underneath. Sometimes I don’t even remember underwear.” She shot me another of those heavy looks under her lashes as we rounded the next block. “And yes, I’m hungry. Starving, actually.”

Her meaning was clear. So was mine as I nudged her toward the darkened doorway of “Je L’adore”, a French restaurant I’d visited a few times.

“Then let me take care of all your needs.” I slipped my hand around her waist to guide her inside, and lightly pressed my pinky against the top of her thigh. She inhaled. “Oh, and Grace?” She glanced back at me, her eyes huge in the faint light from the sign in the window. “As soon as we’re seated, take off your panties.”

Chapter Seven

W
e were seated
in a circular booth near the back of the restaurant at my request. As soon as the server left to fill our drink orders, I lowered my menu and cocked a brow at Grace. “I believe you have a task to complete, Ms. Copeland.”

Her lips trembled and she nodded. I expected her to slip out of the booth and head to the bathroom, but instead, she shimmied a bit lower in her seat and flipped up her dress, working so quickly I could barely see her hands move. After a moment, she drew out a swatch of purple lace—a darker shade than the day before—and fashioned it into a triangle.

Before I could fully process what she was doing, she’d whipped out the pocket square from my suit jacket and slipped the panties inside, fluffing the material until it looked like it had been made for that purpose.

“You caused me to be so hot and bothered,” she murmured close to my ear. “Only fair you should be reminded as often as I am.”

Reminded? Hell, the heat from that square of fabric was branding a tattoo on my skin straight through my clothes.

And the scent of her. God, I had to be imagining it. But just the mere idea that the lace had been against her pussy was going to kill me.

“Your wine, sir, madam.” The server poured the Muscadet I’d ordered into two glasses, then left the bottle behind as requested. He waited until I sampled and approved of the taste, though Grace held up a finger as well so she could do the same.

“Perfect,” she informed him while I smiled behind my menu.

She would never take a deferential role in anything.

“I’d like to order the oysters on the half shell to start,” I said, ignoring Grace’s sharp kick against my leg. Her heels today weren’t quite as lethal, but they were bad enough. “Then I think we’ll have the Chateaubriand for two, with a side of—”

“I’d like the chicken,” Grace interrupted.

I cocked a brow. “The Chateaubriand here is excellent.”

“I’d like the chicken.”

The waiter gripped his pad. “I could come back, if you’d like more time…”

“No, this is fine. We’ll take the Chateaubriand and the Poulet aux Champignons, please. Thank you.”

The instant he’d taken our menus and left the table, Grace fisted her napkin. She’d started to unfurl it over her lap before the waiter had made the mistake of trying to take her order. “I didn’t want that fancy ass chicken. I wanted the simple grilled breast. No champagne, no scallions, no cute little button mushrooms, just plain damn chicken.”

“The chicken I ordered for you is perfectly satisfactory. I’ve had it myself.”

“Satisfactory for
you
. And that’s just it. Ordered for me? Who does that?”

“I ordered you to remove your panties. Didn’t see you protesting there.”

Watching her flush was a revelation. “There is a difference.”

I smoothed my own napkin over my lap. I didn’t want her to know I was growing even more rigid from this conversation. Her panties had started me off, and her anger would finish me.

She was so fucking hot when she was pissed.

“And that difference is?” I asked, reaching for my wine.

“Sexy stuff is one thing. But when it comes to dinner, I make my own decisions. I’m my own woman. I can decide on my own wine and my own meal. And you know what else? I think it’s absolutely ridiculous to pay over one hundred dollars for fancy beef when there are people starving. It’s wasteful. It’s—”

“On my tab, so I’ll take the karmic burden.” After taking a sip of my wine and setting aside the glass, I lowered my voice and spoke close to her ear. “Enough, Ms. Copeland. Or else I’ll order you to not only remove your own panties, but to take my cock out right here and not stop until your mouth is full of something else.”

Her chest heaved, her full breasts rising and falling against the bodice of her dress. “I’d bite it off.”

“I doubt it. Seems silly to harm something you enjoy making use of so much.”

She screwed up her mouth to the point that all I could think about was being inside it. “Go to hell.”

I brushed a kiss over the shell of her ear. “How wet are you right now?”

“I’m not.” Her chin came up. “I’m dry like the freaking Sahara.”

“Really. So if I were to do this…” I slid my hand up the outside of her thigh, tugging her dress up until I could see she’d worn hose and garters again, just to drive me insane. I wasted no time in slipping between her tightly clenched thighs and drew my fingers through the moisture sealed between them. “You’re a liar, Ms. Copeland.” I bite down on her earlobe, clinking my teeth against her large silver hoop earrings. “I don’t like liars.”

Her breathing sped, but she said nothing. Didn’t move at all.

“Especially because I’ve discovered if someone lies about one thing, they’ll lie about another.” I inched my hand higher. I’d never intended to go down this path here—not to touch her intimately in a public restaurant, and especially not to prod at the boundaries of her deception—but a wise businessman never refused an opportunity when it was presented. “Have you found that to be true, Ms. Copeland?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“I am. Undoubtedly. I’m the bastard who’s about to finger fuck all your objections right out of your pretty head.” I slid my mouth down the side of her neck. “And maybe your lies too.”

Her thighs clenched around my hand, as if she intended to force me out. She tipped back her head and exhaled sharply, then gripped my hand between hers and shoved it deeper, pushing my fingers right up against where she needed them.

Against an inferno of wet heat, all for me.

I obliged her, parting her swollen folds with two fingers. She reached for her wine and gulped it down as I circled her stiff clit, rotating the pad of my finger over it again and again until she started to squirm against the booth. This wouldn’t take long. She was so soaked that my fingers kept sliding along her folds, making obscene noises I knew she could hear even over the sounds of other people dining. Our booth was somewhat sheltered by a tall divider, but other diners were close by, close enough that if she gasped, they would probably hear her.

“You like to watch other people fuck,” I murmured against the side of her throat while my fingers worked her slippery pussy. “But how about others watching you?”

The waiter returned with our platter of oysters and Grace jolted upward, trying to get away. I clamped my hand over her center, holding her firmly in place with one hand as I spoke calmly to the waiter. Her clit was pulsing so hard I could feel the reverberations against my palm.

Little vixen was turned on by this. She liked me having my fingers on her while the awkward waiter stood by, making small talk with me for the sole purpose of heightening Grace’s arousal.

“I think we’re all set for the moment,” I said, sliding my index finger over her plump clit, gathering the wetness there and using it to fuel my caresses. “What about you, Grace?” I gave her a tight smile. She wasn’t the only one on the verge of combusting. “Do you need anything else right now?”

She shook her head, pressing her lips together until they were white.

The waiter left, and I used my free hand to pry one of the oysters from its shell with the seafood fork. I’d done it so many times that I could do it blindfolded. I pressed the oyster against her closed mouth while my fingers played over her flesh. “Open for me.”

She responded by separating her legs and opening her lips so I could simultaneously push my fingers all the way inside her pussy and slip the oyster onto her tongue.

With one hard thrust, she exploded, her eyes going wide as she fought to swallow the salty delicacy. She gripped her wine glass until I half expected it to shatter, her hips bucking against my hand as I sought to extend her pleasure with slow, deep strokes.

Then she turned her head as if to speak into my ear. Instead she bit my earlobe hard enough to bruise. “You’ll pay for that.”

I withdrew my hand from between her legs and reached for another oyster, pushing it and the tips of my drenched fingers between her lips. Her eyes shot fire as she tasted it and herself, her sharp teeth scraping my skin. Then I did the same for myself, except I openly licked my fingers once I’d swallowed the oyster.

She shut her eyes on a moan.

“I can’t wait, Ms. Copeland,” I murmured.

Chapter Eight

W
e lingered over the dinner
. Grace finally relented and tried the Chateaubriand, and the sound she made upon tasting it turned my rock-hard erection into pure agony. She was clearer-headed than I for obvious reasons, so she seemed to delight in my predicament. Her wrist brushed the tent in my pants more than once, though the final time she did it, I held her there until she whimpered in her throat and drew her fingers over the tight sac between my legs.

She might not like me ordering for her, but she had absolutely no problem with me taking charge when it came to sex.

When the bill came, I took it without glancing at the total and reached for my wallet. The remaining afterglow in her cheeks faded as she watched me withdraw my card.

“I’ll pay my share. Let me see the bill.”

I didn’t mean to laugh. She, on the other hand, definitely intended to pinch my tensed thigh, which had the unintentional consequence of causing my cock to jerk.

“You’re not paying,” I said through gritted teeth. “So unless you intend to do for me what I did for you, save your pinches for another time.”

“This isn’t a date, and I always pay my own way.”

“It’s not a date, and I don’t care what you always do. I ordered, I’m paying. And when we leave here, I intend to fuck you so hard you forget how to argue with me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your dick isn’t that big, pal.”

“Oh no?” I grabbed her hand and brought it to the placket of my pants, completely unconcerned at the crudeness of the gesture. Watching her pupils drown out her sea-toned irises was ridiculously satisfying. “Maybe I should start by fucking your mouth.”

She darted her gaze to her hand as it closed reflexively around my shaft. I nearly groaned aloud. Slowly, she licked her lips. “Maybe you should.”

Damn, this woman.

“Next time I’ll pay,” she said as I signed the charge slip. I didn’t laugh this time. Rather, I shot her a speculative glance. Her hand was still on my dick, and she was talking about next times.

“At lunch in the office or whatever,” she muttered, yanking her hand back and reaching for the lanterns we’d placed on the seat. Only our two remained. We’d given the rest away.

I said nothing as the waiter took the bill and my card.

Once he returned my credit card to me, I urged Grace out of the booth and we walked out into the chilly night. She shivered in her light jacket so I offered her my black trenchcoat, which she refused.

Shocker.

Neither of us spoke on our walk back to Triton Tower. We ascended in silence to the roof, though I saw Grace’s dark mood begin to lift once she spotted the helicopter. I didn’t even have to nudge her to get inside. She’d taken her seat and set aside the lanterns to work on her harness before I even reached the aircraft.

“Need help?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I watched you the first time. I’m good.”

More than a little disappointed I wouldn’t get to cop a feel as I had the first time, I took my seat behind the controls.

In moments, we were in the air again. Grace was straining against the straps, her fingers clenching and unclenching against her thighs as she took in the view of the landscape below.

“I wonder what it’s like to fuck up here,” she said above the roar of the rotors and I nearly came in my pants.

For once, I was absolutely speechless.

I hadn’t recovered by the time we touched down on the roof of my building. She seemed reluctant to undo her harness, and for a moment, I wished I’d thought to extend our night ride.

“Next time, we’ll stay out longer,” I said, swallowing hard as she shot me a sharp look. She finished undoing her straps, grabbed the lanterns and got down from the cockpit before I could unglue my tongue.

I disembarked and joined her near the wall that circled the roof. The view from this high up was stunning. Glittering lights from the myriad skyscrapers that made up downtown Boston competed with the view of the harbor. The sliver of moonlight cast diamonds upon the black sheet of water, and a tumult of dark clouds rushed across the milky gray sky.

And Grace stood against the wind, her pale hands clutching the wall, her golden hair streaming behind her.

She was another kind of angel. An angel of the darkness, capable of causing men to fall to their deaths from the highest peaks.

I moved up behind her, well aware of the cameras that now recorded our movements. But I didn’t care. If I didn’t get my hands on her again, I was going to lose my mind.

“Let me take you home,” I said against her cheek.

Unsurprisingly, she bristled. “I got here on my own. I can get home on my own. It’s not your job to take care of me, Blake.” She started to turn, but I stilled her with a hand against her lower back.

“There’s cameras watching us. You don’t want my security team to see me fuck you.” I rubbed my cheek against hers, allowing my coat to billow around us. As shields went, it was pretty frigging flimsy, but it would cast reasonable doubt on the footage.

Or so I told myself when my cock was hard enough to rival the steel beams that held up the building.

When she didn’t move, I murmured, “Unless maybe you do.”

She moaned softly and bucked her hips against mine, encouraging me to rub my erection against her ass. Slipping her arm back, keeping it close to her body, she jerked down my zipper and freed my cock, tugging it out with unsteady fingers. I was amazed she managed to at all, what with the awkwardness of the angle.

“Tell me you have another magic condom in your bra.”

Her shoulders shook as she laughed. “Maybe. I might even have two.” She added out of the side of her mouth, “Two cups, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I fucking know.” I rarely swore unless I was angry or turned on. She seemed to make me both with frightening regularity. “I want to claim your mouth. Your tits. Your ass. Every fucking part of you.”

She trembled between me and the wall. “You forgot my pussy.”

God, even that hesitant version of dirty talk from her was enough to end me. “Oh no, I didn’t.” I dipped my head and bit her shoulder through her clothes, savoring her moan. “Now I’m going to make it remember
me
.”

I tugged up her dress and nudged her closer to the wall, briefly taking a moment to thank myself for my foresight in having her remove her panties. Easier access, and shit, I needed it. Any barrier between me and her hot pussy would’ve been destroyed in seconds. As it was, I had to hold on long enough for her to fumble out the condom—still warm from her breasts—and pass it to me, and then I had to jerk it out of the foil and get it on my dick. The action would’ve been difficult enough in such close quarters if my hands hadn’t been shaking like a junkie’s.

“Pussy addict,” I mumbled and she nearly lost her footing, almost coming out of one of her heels. I didn’t know how’d she gone off-balance, but it didn’t matter because she was giggling, and soon I was too.

Not giggling, I hoped, but laughing. Christ, I laughed so hard that my poor, underappreciated cock nearly burst through the latex.

“Did you really say pussy addict?”

“Grace’s pussy addict,” I corrected, dragging her against me as I slid my rubber-covered cock against her ass. “Put your foot up on the ledge.”

“They’re going to know.”

She was probably right, and I probably should’ve given a shit.

But she put her foot up on the ledge, and I lined up my dick and shoved inside her hard enough to kill the last of our laughter.

Then all there was blinding heat, and need, and her squeezing me as she went up on her toes to suck me so deep that I couldn’t breathe. Her name was the only thing I could say.

“Grace,” I murmured, and she shuddered, clamping down on me so brutally that I couldn’t even withdraw enough to thrust. It was like being vised in an inferno, in the best fucking way possible.

“I need it, Blake, please,” she begged, pushing her ass back against me. “Don’t wait.”

So I didn’t.

Somehow I managed to draw back enough to slam home again, over and over until I knew I was ramming her into the stone wall. I regretted it, but I couldn’t stop it. My coat flapped in the wind around us, probably not concealing a damn thing, but all I could think about was the blazing-hot flesh hugging my cock, drenching it. She wasn’t just going to come. She was going to shatter, and I was going to break apart with her.

I banded my arm around her waist and pressed the heel of my hand between her thighs, rubbing without finesse. We were two animals rutting, making the kind of noises I’d never heard from myself before. Grunts, shouts. Filthy fucking things that belonged to her alone, because she was the only woman on this earth who could draw them out of me.

“Squeeze that tight pussy. Squeeze me, goddammit. Harder.” I bit the side of her throat and she whimpered, rocking against me as if she’d lost all control of her body. “Milk my cock. Make me come.” I ground my hand against her center, so roughly I wondered if it would bruise. “Make yourself come. Do it now, Grace. Do it.”

But my demands held no sway here. She writhed against me, undulating as she rode the pleasure between us. Yet she still didn’t come.

“Let go, dammit. Let go or else I’ll turn you around and shove your thighs open so wide that every camera in this place will see me shoving my dick inside you.”

She cried out and gripped my hand, holding it against her clit as she bucked into my strokes. She fell forward, pressing her cheek to the wall, virtually ensuring that it would be obvious to every person who saw this footage that we’d been mating like beasts.

Finally, she burst apart around my cock, her pussy rippling with such force that I couldn’t withstand her frantic spasms. I threw back my head and roared at the night, furious without knowing why, my hips battering hers into the unforgiving wall again and again as I drained myself into the condom.

The aftermath was silence. As always.

I returned to my body at once, snapping violently back into my skin. The afterglow vanished but the anger remained. At myself, at her. At a world where she would always be too good for me, and I would always be tainted by the slums no matter how high I rose.

That wasn’t all. She was still hiding the truth about why she’d taken the job working for me. I’d given her a chance to come clean at dinner, and she hadn’t. We continued to devour each other at every opportunity, and we were both lying with every breath.

“Let me take you home,” I said against her cheek, daring her to defy me when I was so on edge.

She sighed. “Blake—”

“Don’t tell me no when I’m still balls-deep inside you. I need to know you’re safe.”
I need to understand some of the pieces of your life, because you keep hiding the rest away.

“I will be safe. I’m a big girl.”

“If something happened to you…” I blew out a breath and closed my eyes. “There’s no reason to take unnecessary risks.”

“Oh no? Then what is this, exactly?” She elbowed me back, and I pulled out of her with a grunt. I whipped off the condom and shoved it into the pocket square I’d tucked away before slipping both back into my pocket. She tugged down her dress and strode away from me, her words swallowed by the wind.

“Goddammit, I can’t even hear you. Turn around and face me.”

She did, and the fury that blazed across her features matched mine. “What is this? Just a way for you to get your rocks off with the hired help? I’m not that kind of girl.
Your
kind of girl,” she added, throwing up her hands.

“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m well aware that we don’t fit. That we could never fit.” I’d been cursing the reality of that for so long that I didn’t remember a time when I hadn’t used that knowledge to goad myself into reaching for more. To not sleep, to keep working, keep striving.

If I took over enough of the goddamned world, maybe I would be good enough for Annabelle Stuart’s granddaughter.

“Then stop doing this! Stop confusing me and throwing out mixed signals and making me want to forget—” She cut herself off and shook her head, crossing her arms under her breasts so that they swelled, high and proud.

Making me hard for her all over again, when I hadn’t even yet recovered from the last time.

“Forget what,” I repeated softly, knowing she probably couldn’t hear me over the rush of the wind.

“I’m leaving. I don’t want a ride, and I don’t need you in my life. You’re fucking everything up. I had a plan, and now I don’t know anything anymore.”

Even with my skin still burning hot from her, I chilled. Inside and out, I went to ice. “What was your plan, Ms. Copeland? Tell me. I’m curious.”

“And that. Ms. Copeland. Fuck that shit. I’m your assistant when you don’t want to bang me, and it’s easy as hell to brush me off when you aren’t in the mood. Only when your dick’s hard can you even bother to call me by my name.”

“Grace.” I moved forward before I could stop myself. I gripped her shoulders, shaking her. “Grace. Fucking Grace Cordelia Copeland. I’ve known your name longer than I’ve known my own.”


How
? How do you know my name?” She grabbed my shirtfront, tugging hard enough to rip apart the buttons. “I didn’t put my middle name on the forms. Did you investigate me, you bastard? Do a search on me to make sure I wasn’t going to try to snag your billions?” She shoved me away and the sparkle of tears on her cheeks made my hands fall limply to my sides.

“Let me take you home,” I said again, because I couldn’t stand to see her cry. If she wanted to pound her fists against my chest, fine.

I could tolerate anything but her tears.

“I don’t
have
a home, don’t you get it? I have nothing. No family that matters, no home, no one who’s mine. Who sees me for me, and says my name like it causes pleasure instead of pain.” She knuckled away her tears and I stepped toward her again, stopping only when she held up a hand. “No. Stay back. Don’t touch me again.”

“Grace,” I murmured.

“Now you say it so freely.” She laughed brokenly, shaking her head. “But it’s too late. I’ve been an idiot. Pretending I could actually do this. That I could actually make a decision and make it happen from the force of my will alone.”

BOOK: The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2)
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