Boss Next Door

by Beverly Evans

  Feeling him coming inside of me touches off my own orgasm. My cries are muffled with his mouth still pressed to mine. Our tongues swirl and dance in my mouth as I shake hard, my orgasm setting every inch of my body on fire.

  It takes a while, but my heartbeat and my breathing begin to slow. Braxton places a gentle kiss on my lips, a look of something akin to awe in his eyes. Eventually, his cock softens, and he slips out of me. He takes the condom off and tosses it in a trash can near the nightstand before crawling up onto the bed and pulling me to him.

  Neither of speak for several long moments. We lay there, cuddled together, our hearts beating in sync with each other. I plant a soft kiss on the hard plane of his chest as he runs his fingers through my hair, and I look up at him, giving him a gentle smile.

  This is not how I intended to spend my evening. And even though I’m still shocked by my behavior, there’s some part of me that couldn’t be happier that I did. Honestly speaking, my virginity has felt like a burden for a long while. I just never found somebody I felt like I wanted to give it to. Nobody I felt was worthy of giving it to.

  Well, that’s not true. Nobody except Braxton.

  “I have to say, I’m surprised,” he says softly.

  I give him a lopsided grin. “That makes two of us.”

  Braxton places a soft kiss on the top of my head, and I smile up at him. I can see the questions in his eyes, but I’m not entirely sure I have the answers to them.

  “Was that…”

  His voice trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish the question for me to know what he’s asking. It feels weird to be having this conversation, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it came up. Braxton knows my history, and I guess it was pretty obvious.

  “Yes,” I answer his unspoken question. “It was my first time.”

  He kisses my forehead gently but says nothing. He probably doesn’t know what to say to that. But then, I don’t know if there’s anything you really can say. No matter which way you try to slice it, it’s an awkward conversation to have.

  “But hey, look on the bright side – isn’t a virgin worth more points?” I tease.

  He purses his lips. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” I shake my head. “Just making a bad joke.”

  He turns his head to look me in the eye. “No, I can tell it’s not nothing. What do you mean?”

  I let out a long breath. “I just know that back in the day, you and your friends kept score of your – conquests.”

  Braxton gives me a strange look. “Where in the hell did you hear that?”

  I shrug. “Word got around,” I tell him. “But for whatever it’s worth, I always thought you were different. You were never as – crass – as the others.”

  He cups my chin in his hand and looks deeply into my eyes. “I can promise you that we never kept score,” he tells me. “We never did anything like that.”

  I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter now,” I tell him. “It’s in the past –”

  He laughs softly. “I swear to God; we never kept score. We were assholes, but we weren’t that kind of asshole.”

  I search his eyes, looking for the truth of things. It shouldn’t matter now – it doesn’t matter. We’re not in school anymore, and we have our own lives. We’re grown adults and don’t play those stupid games anymore. But it is one reason I stayed away from him back then – the reputation of some of the guys Braxton ran with preceded them. And although I felt like Braxton was different from them, he was still one of them, and therefore, guilty by association.

  “You guys were kind of assholes,” I laugh softly. “But I believe you.”

  “Good.”

  “That’s not to say you weren’t a whore in your own right,” I add, not quite willing to let him off the hook.

  “I wasn’t as bad as some of the others,” he defends himself with a laugh.

  “From what I heard; you were still pretty bad.”

  He laughs. “Are you going to believe every story you heard about me?”

  A rueful smile touches my lips. “Not all of them.”

  We laugh together as he rolls me over and looks down into my eyes, placing a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. The connection between us is intense and sends shivers up and down my spine. It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before, and it fills me with a warmth that’s deep and profound.

  But I know it’s something I can’t afford to indulge in. Something I can’t afford to encourage. I’m leaving for London, and I very well may not be coming back. At least not anytime soon. Which means, that letting myself get too attached to him would be a horrible idea. My heart is encouraging me to throw open the gates and welcome him in. But my mind is warring against it, urging me to be cautious, warning me of every way it would be terrible for me.

  And yet, the draw to him is nearly irresistible to me.

  “Why did you sleep with me tonight?” he finally asks.

  A faint smile touches my lips. “I don’t know. It just felt – right.”

  His boyish smile melts my heart. “It did. It felt very right,” he grins.

  “Yes, it did,” I admit. “But I’d rather not dissect my sex life right now. I’d rather just enjoy the moment.”

  “Fair enough,” he responds as he traces a fingertip along my jawline, a look of adoration on his face. “When are you leaving?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  “Go out with me tomorrow night,” he urges.

  I purse my lips. “I’m supposed to see my friends tomorrow.”

  “Blow them off,” he encourages me. “Go out with me instead.”

  “Braxton, I can’t just –”

  He grins. “Sure you can. You’re a big girl. You can do anything you want.”

  I open my mouth to reply – to tell him that I can’t just blow my friends off – but I find myself hesitating as the words die on my lips.

  “Let me make your last night in town special. I don’t –” For a second, a flicker of emotion crosses his face. He hides it quickly, but it was definitely there. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

  I can’t stop the smile from stretching across my face. “Okay,” I agree. “I’ll go out with you.”

  “Excellent,” he gives me that thousand-watt smile of his.

  I smile as he lays back down and pulls me down with him. I nestle myself into his arms, laying my head on his chest and trace circles on his flat belly with my fingertip. We lay in comfortable silence, and I feel myself slowly drifting off, content in a way I never knew was possible.

  I know this can’t last. I know that this thing between us is – fleeting. This moment we’re sharing is nothing more than that. I know it, and I hate it, but I have to accept it for what it is.

  Like he said, I’m a big girl, and if all we have together is this moment, then I might as well enjoy every last second of it.

  Chapter Ten

  Chloe

  “It’s beautiful up here,” I marvel, taking a drink of my wine.

  “Yeah, it’s not too bad,” he calls back.

  I’m standing on the balcony of his fifth-floor condo overlooking the desert beyond the city. The flashing, gaudy lights of the Strip prevent me from seeing the stars in the darkened sky above, which is a shame. The air is still warm, but a cool breeze is blowing, cutting some of the heat. The endless vista of desert is stark and intimidating, but ruggedly beautiful in its own way.

  Braxton’s condo is filled with the fragrant aroma of garlic and a host of other seasonings. Smooth jazz is softly playing on the stereo, and I’ve got a fantastic chardonnay in my glass. All in all, life could be worse right about now.

  I turn around and walk back inside, sitting down at the center island in the kitchen as Braxton busily cooks away on the other side. His loft-style condo is beautiful. It has an open floor plan with a dining room set just inside the glass doors of the terrace to my left – part of the rear wall is made entirely of glass.

&n
bsp; To my right is a dining room area that has a couch and loveseat set in an L configuration with a coffee table set parallel to the sofa and a massive flat-screen television mounted to the wall. And across from the living area is a six-foot-long bar of polished oak. Four tall chairs line the bar and look like a great place to throw a party.

  A staircase to the right of the bar leads up to an open bedroom. From down here, I can see what looks like a large four poster bed. I can’t see much more from where I’m standing, but I imagine it’s beautiful. His entire condo is beautiful – well-appointed and tastefully decorated. It’s minimalistic and almost sparing in its décor, and I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that every piece of art I see is something Braxton picked out himself.

  “It smells incredible,” I say.

  “Wait until you taste it.” He gives me that cocky grin, I know so well.

  “As humble as ever, I see.”

  Braxton laughs as I watch with rapt attention while he tosses some seasonings into a pan, picks it up and flips it with a flourish. A pot of water boils on another burner, and he drops some dry pasta into it, giving it a quick stir. My stomach growls as I savor the aromas filling the room.

  “I have to say I’m impressed,” I grin. “I wasn’t aware you could cook.”

  He gives me a suggestive wink. “I can do a lot of things you’d enjoy that you don’t know about yet.”

  I laugh, the dual meaning of his statement blatantly obvious. After last night though, the thought of him doing some of those delicious things to me sends ripples of pleasure and anticipation washing through me.

  “Looking forward to it,” I respond, taking a sip of wine and casting a seductive glance at him.

  I know I probably shouldn’t sleep with him again. I know I shouldn’t encourage something I know can’t ever be. But after last night, I already know that’s a lost cause because even though I woke up aching and sore in places I didn’t know I could be achy and sore, I also woke up craving more of him. The mere thought of what we did last night makes me hot and slick with anticipation. I knew the second I walked in his door tonight that I was going to have sex with him one more time before I went back to London.

  One for the road, so to speak.

  It’s crazy to me that after holding out for so long – and then giving in and allowing myself one night of passion – that I’m suddenly insatiable. I’ve never had these thoughts or desires running so rampant within me before. I’ve always been in such control of myself and my desires that this sudden loss of control is more than a bit disconcerting.

  I’ve always been very physically attracted to Braxton. I won’t lie – there’s always been some small part of me that’s wanted him in ways I haven’t wanted other guys. It took everything in me to resist the temptation over those summer nights, but I managed to keep myself in check. Now, though, it’s as if Braxton has somehow blown a hole in the dam of my self-control, and everything I’ve been holding back is rushing through in a torrent.

  I feel overcome by wanton desires I’ve never experienced before, and I want more. So much more. I feel like I can’t get enough. I’m simply counting down the minutes until I can have him inside of me again.

  It’s terrible, and there’s a small shred of shame welling up within me, but I stuff that all down, ignoring the voice within me that usually reins in my more carnal thoughts and desires. I give myself a mental slap and try to maintain my composure. I know that by this time tomorrow, I’ll be somewhere over the Atlantic, on my way back to England, so I might as well leave any sort of shame back here where it belongs.

  “Where did you learn to cook?” I ask just to divert my thoughts.

  He tastes his sauce and tosses more seasonings into the pan, giving it a stir. “I thought I needed a hobby, so I took a few classes.”

  “You needed a hobby?” I laugh. “And here I figured the nightlife in Vegas was right up your alley.”

  He gives me a wry smile. “Believe it or not, man cannot live by nightclub alone.”

  “So you’re trying to tell me that you’re a homebody?”

  Braxton drains the pasta into a colander and sets the empty pot back onto the stove.

  “Sometimes it’s nice to just hang out at home and read a book or watch a movie,” he tells me. “Plus, I have other things that keep me busy.”

  “Like what?”

  “Work, for one,” he responds.

  “And for another?”

  He grins at me and shrugs. “This and that, I guess.”

  Using a pair of tongs, Braxton puts some of the pasta from the colander into the pan with the sauce and gives it all a thorough toss. Watching him work away in the kitchen, being so domestic is about as bizarre as watching a gorilla playing the piano. But there’s also something endearing about it. More than anything, it shows me that there are a great many things I don’t know about him. It shows me that he’s got layers upon layers I haven’t seen.

  Braxton plates up the food and pulls some freshly made garlic cheese bread from the oven, then carries it all over to the dining room table. I take a seat at the table and let him refill my wine glass before he steps back into the kitchen and retrieves two bowls of salad from the refrigerator and sets them down before lighting the candles on the table and dimming the light in the room. Braxton gives a quick look around and apparently satisfied he hasn’t forgotten anything, sits down across from me.

  He raises his glass. I tap mine against his with a high-pitched ping. The candlelight flickers upon his tawny, sun-kissed skin. It makes his brown eyes sparkle dazzlingly. His smile is wide, warm, and makes my heart flutter.

  “To a beautiful evening with an even more beautiful woman,” he says.

  I feel my cheeks flush and am suddenly glad for the dim lighting as we both take a drink of our wine and then dig into our meals. When I take that first bite of pasta, it’s like an explosion of flavor in my mouth. I take a few bites and eat one of the well-seasoned shrimps on the plate, moaning with delight.

  “This is amazing,” I tell him.

  He gives me a small smile, almost looking embarrassed by the praise. It’s adorable. We talk and laugh our way through dinner, and I’m genuinely enjoying every minute of it. Eventually, we finish our meals, and I help him clear the dishes. He tells me to just leave everything on the counters, and that his cleaning service will take care of it.

  When we have everything cleared, Braxton leans against the center island and pulls me to him, encircling my waist with his arms. I stare up at him, feeling my breath quicken. Desire flows through me, and despite my best efforts to keep my hormones in check, I feel myself growing slick and warm anyway.

  “I wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow,” he whispers.

  The reminder is unpleasant. I quickly push the thought away, not wanting anything to spoil the evening. I want to enjoy every last moment I have with him.

  “Then we better enjoy the time we have,” I purr.

  He smiles and then leans down, pressing his mouth to mine. Our tongues dash together, our kiss nearly stealing my breath. Braxton’s hands are on my ass, kneading and squeezing me through my dress. I feel his cock growing stiff in his pants, so I reach down and grab hold of him, gripping him tightly.

  I let out a small squeal as Braxton picks me up and sets me down on the center island. Our tongues still swirling in my mouth, he pushes my skirt up my thighs, the feel of his fingertips on my skin, making me shudder. Braxton kisses my neck as he slips the straps off my shoulders and pushes the top of my dress down, exposing my chest. His mouth finds my breasts, and I moan softly as his tongue swirls around one of my stiff nipples, groaning as he gives the other a firm pinch.

  He works his way down, then buries his face between my thighs. My entire body stiffens when his tongue finds my clit. He circles and teases it with his tongue, drawing a long shuddering breath from me. I let out a soft gasp as he parts my lips with the tip of his tongue, then a long moan as he slides it deep into my pussy.

 
My hands are in his hair, gripping and pulling as he eats me out, working my pussy with his tongue in ways I’ve never felt before. He takes my swollen bud into his mouth, licking and sucking on it and sending jolts of electricity surging through me. I cry out as Braxton slides his hands up my thighs, rubbing my clit with his thumb as he laps at the hot, wet center of me with a vigor that takes my breath away.

  It doesn’t take him long to bring me to the edge of bliss, and as I grip his hair tighter with one hand and the edge of the counter with the other, I feel myself start to thrash. Braxton continues to lick my pussy as my whole body starts to shake, and then like an explosion, I come hard for him. He’s looking up at me from between my thighs with a gleam in his eye that fills me with an overpowering sense of lust. I need to have him inside of me.

  “Get a condom,” I order him as I pull him to his feet. “Now.”

  He gives me a sly grin. “Impatient girl,” he teases. “But I have to say; this whole take charge, aggressive side of you is kind of hot.”

  I grip his hair and pull his head back, kissing his neck then give it a bite. The smile on his face is salacious, and I push him away as I give him a wicked grin.

  “Condom. Now,” I growl.

  Braxton doesn’t say anything, but still has that crooked little grin on his face when he turns and heads out of the kitchen. He returns a moment later and holds the condom up for me to see.

  “Good boy,” I smile seductively.

  I part my thighs for him, then wrap them around his waist as he steps closer to me. I reach down, unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants, reaching inside and wrapping my hand around the thick shaft of his cock. He groans as I start to move my fist up and down, jerking him off, relishing the feeling as his rod grows even stiffer in my hand. I squeeze him tighter and stroke even faster, loving the soft moans passing his lips.

  I run my thumb around the tip of his cock, swirling his precum all over the head. He watches as I slip my thumb into my mouth, savoring his taste. I see the flames of desire in his eyes grow ever higher. My pussy is dripping wet and rippling with need as I rip open the condom wrapper, then place it over the head of his cock. I can’t wait to have him back inside of me. I’m exploding with need as I quickly unroll it down his length.