The Boss and the Brat: A Billionaire Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  Yes.

  And no.

  Christ, that wasn’t it at all.

  Not like I’d make her understand, especially when I didn’t understand it myself.

  How could I explain unhappiness to a woman who’d known only joy until I’d stolen her future?

  “When I was young, we had no money, hardly any food, and every day was a struggle just to catch up,” I said. “But even when the world kicked us down, we weren’t lost. We had something then. Something better than what should’ve been our lives. I want to find that feeling again.”

  “And you think you’ll find it in fashion?” she asked. “Or on top of a mountain? Or investing in some cutting-edge technology?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her voice gentled. “What if you’re chasing nostalgia?”

  Then I’d be damned forever—chasing money, success, women, and wealth without end. No real future. No real life. Just a collection of experiences and whims without meaning or reason.

  “Think you’ll ever find it?” Mackenza asked.

  I answered immediately. “No.”

  She slumped, her fingertips tracing my neck. She scratched the rough shadow of my stubble.

  “But that’s so sad,” she whispered.

  “I’ll get over it.”

  “But will you be happy?”

  “I’m satisfied with my life.” I gripped her hips. “But right now, I could be more satisfied.”

  “That’s not the same as being happy.”

  “I’ve learned long ago what greed can do to a man.”

  “So far it’s gotten you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  My fingers drifted low, savoring her slickened slit with a lazy stroke. Her breath shuddered in quiet excitement.

  “A man like me will always want more,” I whispered. “Curse of the trade. There’s always another need to fulfill.”

  She licked her bottom lip. “You think you can come into my home, tell me a sad story, and then seduce me?”

  My cock hardened as I slipped the button on my pants. “I’m vulnerable right now. I need comfort.”

  “You need to be castrated.”

  Probably the only way I’d ever get enough of her.

  Until then, obsession plagued me. Her soft skin promised a gentle pleasure. Her full lips offered delicate kisses. Her melodic whisper confessed every desire.

  I shifted, removing my cock from my pants. Mackenza gasped as the heated flesh pressed against her sensitive slit.

  “No fun in castration.” I rubbed the head against her swollen clit. Christ, the woman was hot as the sun, soft as velvet, and eager as a vixen. “Besides…you earned all those juicy secrets from just a spanking. Imagine what you’ll learn if you come a little closer...”

  “Not sure I want to know any more about you…”

  Mackenza allowed me to guide her hips over my hardness. She held her breath, nervous, but the slide of my cock against her petals relaxed her body with a heated shiver.

  She surrendered, falling over me, grinding down, lower and lower, until our worlds collided and we joined skin-to-skin.

  The brat was a drama queen, but I loved how she shattered with honesty as the pleasure stole her strength. I held a stabilizing arm against her back, pulling her to my chest. She eagerly cuddled me, pausing only to allow me to remove her t-shirt.

  Her bared body was a blessing money couldn’t buy.

  I resolved to savor her this time—from the whisper on her lips to the mocha buds tightening against her perfect breasts. This woman was meant to be enjoyed, and I clutched her tight as I sank deeper into every inch of her silken heat.

  And yet, Mackenza struggled against herself. Silenced her own whimpers. Gripped my shoulders with enough claw to make me wince.

  Why didn’t she simply submit to what we both needed?

  “You still don’t like me…” My words broke with desire.

  She arched, surprising herself as her body took me deeper. “No.”

  “Why?”

  The woman found great joy in identifying my faults.

  “Because you’re arrogant.”

  She slammed against my hips as she breathed the word.

  “And you’re conceited.”

  She bit her lip as she drew herself to the tip of my shaft only to crash down once more.

  “Condescending…”

  My pride would mend once I’d taken my satisfaction from her.

  Didn’t make it any less infuriating though.

  “Is that all?” I thrust my hips up to meet hers and delighted in her squeal.

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  Her heat would destroy me. Sweat beaded my brow, and the velvet destruction of her core threatened my every inhibition.

  She’d have me explode before she’d even finished berating me.

  “You won’t listen to anyone’s opinions but your own,” she said.

  She bounced a little quicker, figuring out the pacing and her body’s positioning. She moved with the inexperience of a near-virgin, but her determination to earn pleasure by sacrificing pride was worth the few moments of awkward bumbling.

  “You’re boorish…” Her words turned breathy as every muscle in her body tightened. “Stubborn. Frustrating.”

  Enough of this.

  I gripped her tighter. “I’m very easy to please. Just do everything I say, and we’ll both end tonight happy.”

  “Add demanding to the list.”

  “Nothing wrong with being assertive.” I gripped her hair, keeping her still as I stole the kiss she’d denied me all night. Her lips parted, and I took her tongue as well. “But you should realize I’m also quite generous.”

  I gritted my teeth as her lovely heat turned molten. She clenched around me. Anxious. Eager.

  “And I have a soft touch…” I whispered.

  To demonstrate, I tickled a path along her spine. Hit the sensitive spots. She collapsed against me, burying her head in my neck as she frantically bucked her hips.

  “I’m also devoted…” I rasped the words. Too harsh for such a promise. “To the right woman.”

  “Devoted…or insatiable?”

  “Would that be so wrong?”

  “All of this is wrong.”

  “It feels right.”

  Her words shrilled, broken by a rush of pleasure. “It feels good. There’s a big difference.”

  Like I cared.

  All that mattered was that this beautiful woman clung to me, driven to the brink of madness by my cock while begging for more of the delirious torment. She clawed at me, desperate for a release that only I could provide.

  I’d always suffered an excess of pride, but I took a great thrill in being her first and being the first to deliver her a real orgasm. Not some timid touch in the darkness of her own bedroom, but a proper, full-bodied, soul-rending release that left her desperate for another, even more primal and raw than the last.

  I would take her again.

  Ravish her throughout the night.

  Show her everything her body could do and take from her perfection my own sweaty, primitive reward.

  “What do I have to do to make you mine?” I wouldn’t beg, but my growl raged, harsh and dark. “Tell me. I’ll do it.”

  Mackenza edged too hard and too intense for someone so inexperienced. She gripped at me on the verge of tears, desperate for release.

  “Resign. Give me my company.”

  “What if I fuck you harder instead? Take you deeper? Make you cry out my name?”

  “You can do all those things.” The permission broke her. Her body shuddered, conquered by her own blossoming pleasure and the skill of a man who understood her body more than she did. “But I won’t give in to you.”

  The desire lashed me from the inside—whip cracks of intensity that might’ve crippled me had I not shielded myself within this angel’s warmth and sweetness.

  I held her tight and slammed my hips against hers.

  Her orgasm shredded what r
emained of her resolve, rendering her limp and helpless against my own preferred torment. Easy to fuck. Ravage.

  Dominate.

  I buried my cock inside of her as she groaned in a frenzy of delight. Her tightness milked me, drew me in deeper, and trapped me inside her heat until my only instinct was to give her all of myself.

  I came. Again and again. My own pleasure blinded me to everything except the woman trembling in my arms. She begged for more, coming again as my seed drenched her from the inside.

  And, when the shadow of my savage desire waned, I remained within her. Still hard. Still eager for more.

  She settled against my chest, breathing unsteadily. Gripping me as the last tendrils of pleasure whipped her with goose bumps.

  “This means nothing…” She panted. “Promise me.”

  I’d invaded this woman to the core and yet I still didn’t understand her.

  “You want me to promise that I…”

  “Hate me.”

  Hard to do while I was embedded to the hilt in the most amazing, beautiful woman in the world.

  So, I told her the truth. “You’re a damned brat.”

  She sighed, relieved. “And you’re a patronizing prick.”

  “Want me to stay the night?”

  “Don’t you even think about leaving, Cameron Mitchell.” Mackenza pushed herself upright but had yet to move, like a goddess upon her throne. “If we’re going to lie to ourselves, we might as well do it all night.”

  9

  Mackenza

  Accidentally locking myself on the roof of Maxwell Intimates was humiliating.

  The building had only been in my family’s possession for the past fifty years. Surely someone would’ve remembered to stick a spare key in the masonry and not rely on a wooden rod to prevent the door from closing.

  Instead, the fates aligned and kicked my butt on the roof for an hour before my knight-in-shining-armor came to my rescue.

  Cameron Mitchell.

  And he loved every damned minute of it.

  He peeked through the slit of glass in the door, his laugh resonating somewhere between a delighted chuckle and self-declared triumph.

  The roof was chilly, windy, and I lost half of my brown-bagged dinner to a rather vicious pigeon who would’ve taken my sandwich or my hand. The sun had gone down, and I’d tapped a wiggly dance to warm myself up and ignore the pulsing in my bladder.

  I was desperate, but Cameron had already seen me naked. Saving me from an uncomfortable night on the roof was too much power for this man to wield.

  I banished him back to the stairs. “Oh, no. You can go right on home. I’ve called Charlie. He’ll be here soon to unlock the door.”

  Cameron snickered. “Charlie? The ninety-year-old janitor?”

  “He’ll be here. He’s loyal. Been with Maxwell Intimates longer than I’ve been alive.”

  “He doesn’t remember what company he’s with, let alone what floor he just swept or how to get you off the roof before you starve to death.” Cameron’s hand hovered over the metal push bar. “I’ll let you out, and all you have to do is ask nicely.”

  “…What’s the second option?”

  He wagged a finger. “Either ask nicely now or thank me with your mouth full later.”

  It was bad enough that our sex was that good.

  I couldn’t give him any more ammunition.

  I sucked in a deep breath and pretended the city air hadn’t just clogged my lungs with particulates from the coal refinery up the river. “On second thought, I like it here. I’ve got plenty of fresh air, half a bottle of water, and two inches of metal separating me from you.”

  “And here I thought you couldn’t get close enough to me. Kept begging me to strip you down and hold you tighter.”

  I pointed at my ears. “What’s that? I can’t hear you all the way out here.”

  Cameron pushed the door open with a devilish grin. “You’re not getting off that easily…at least, not until I take you home.”

  I warded him away by making a cross with my fingers. “Oh, no. There is no home. There is your place. There is my place. And there’s a marvelous swath of hallway separating them.”

  The dusty corner was no place for a romantic, whirlwind embrace. Maxwell Intimates’ rooftop offered a spectacular view of a muddy river, an alleyway that served as a litterbox for every cat in Ironfield, and a water tower baring the graffitied illustration of a sexual act not unlike a position Cameron and I had unintentionally discovered after tumbling from bed with legs weakened from exhaustion.

  This didn’t stop Cameron. The man lived for a challenge, though breaking the sound barrier seemed far more impressive than seducing a colleague on top of a broken HVAC unit twenty-stories up.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to both scold him and dive for the closing door.

  The door creaked close, scraping against the frame with a screeching cackle, mocking me as it clanked against the latch. I pushed away from Cameron but reached the door too late. My hand slapped against the window.

  No dice.

  One useless tug later, and my best fantasy and worst nightmare roared to life.

  Trapped with Cameron Mitchell.

  No way out except to jump.

  At least I had my choice—I’d either splatter on the pavement or end up in his arms.

  Neither looked very promising.

  I puffed a lock of hair from my eyes. “I blame you.”

  “Of course. What else is new?”

  “You had to get fresh.”

  “Fresh?” His warm laugh wasn’t completely unwelcomed as the chilly wind swirled over the roof. “We’re a little past fresh, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t know what we are.” I crossed my arms and attempted to warm my frozen fingers. “But let’s not tempt fate by asking too many uncomfortable questions.”

  “Who’s uncomfortable?”

  Cameron removed his suit jacket and tossed the material over my shoulders. I wanted to refuse, but after spending the past forty-five minutes stuck on the roof watching the sun dip down and take most of my heat with it, I welcomed the warmth.

  Especially as it smelled of him—pure sexuality mixed with a hint of mischief. Spicy and satisfying. Almost as good as the man himself.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hiding from me,” Cameron said.

  “Hiding? No. I’ve just developed an aversion to you.”

  “Only while the sun is up.”

  “Yeah, well…” I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Cameron’s jacket consumed me, and I could only helplessly flap the oversized sleeves to attempt any sarcasm. “Some addictions are harder to break than others.”

  This pleased him. “Oh, I’m an addiction now?”

  “Sure. You’re pleasurable—in the moment. Hard to quit—especially in times of stress. And you’re bound to make me do something illegal in at least a few of the more conservative states.”

  “And this is a problem?”

  Yes.

  And no.

  I had no idea anymore.

  The sex was fantastic. His touch amazing. His bed warm.

  “I don’t want to hate myself for all time because of a stupid mistake,” I said.

  Cameron appraised me with an amused glance, probably imagining my curves hidden beneath his jacket.

  “Do you actually hate me?” he asked. “Honestly. The answer stays on the roof. I won’t even take it to bed with us.”

  “Because you think I’m going to get back in bed with you?”

  “Why ruin a perfectly good seven-day streak?”

  The man knew exactly how to make something so wonderful, perfect, and utterly erotic seem so dirty and humiliating.

  But if wanting him was wrong, being honest with him was worse.

  “You want the truth?” I bundled tighter into his coat. “I don’t hate you.”

  “But you don’t like me.”

  “Do you like yourself?”

  His sly
smile avoided the question. “I asked you first.”

  And, like a fool, I surrendered. “I find you fascinating.”

  His eyebrows rose in a moment of pure surprise—an expression he couldn’t hide behind billions of dollars or the arrogance fed by the monster in his pants.

  “Glad I could provide such entertainment,” he said.

  “I didn’t say I admired you.”

  Which was a lie.

  Who wouldn’t admire a man as accomplished as Cameron Mitchell…except the girl struggling to rid her life and heart of the man hellbent on claiming more than her bed?

  “What is it that you enjoy so much?” He flexed his arms, bulging even in the crisp, button-up dress shirt. “Is it this chiseled jaw? The money overflowing from my wallet?”

  I frowned. “You think that’s what makes you interesting?”

  “Sure. But it’s my cock that makes me irresistible.”

  The man was impossible.

  And I hated myself for admitting my own damned curiosities.

  “What was it like on the bottom of the ocean?” I asked. “Were you scared? Was it cold? How lonely was it?”

  I expected the man to chuckle, sigh, and regale me with some mammoth tale of adventure and mystery that would rival Jules Verne…or, at the very least, Ariel and Sebastian.

  Instead, he shrugged.

  “It was…” He struggled to find the right words. “Wet.”

  My disappointment was immeasurable. “Wet.”

  “And dark.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Not much to see down there.”

  The man went quiet.

  Not lost in thought.

  Not transfixed by memory or blinded by his own brilliance.

  Just…quiet.

  As if he didn’t even care.

  “You didn’t like it?” I prodded if only to gauge his reaction.

  “It was interesting.”

  “The bottom of the ocean is only interesting?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “That it was life-altering? That it gave you a new perspective on how fragile our world is? How little we understand about the deepest, darkest parts of our planet?”

  Cameron leaned against the old HVAC unit. His brow furrowed. “Do you want me to be poetic or honest?”

  And that was what fascinated me most about Cameron Mitchell.