Bought by the Boss

by Stacey Kennedy

  It’s feral. It’s savage. And I fucking love it.

  I moan, vocalizing just how much, and then his cock is gone. His hand comes down on my ass, and I feel the burn of his fingers. It should hurt, I think, but it doesn’t.

  “More?” he asks, voice strained.

  “Yes,” I gasp. “More.”

  Another slap on the other cheek, and I can’t stop the trembling that’s happening on the inside.

  “Harder?” He grunts.

  “Yes.”

  Two more slaps, and suddenly my entire body is shaking. His cock is back at my entrance and he enters me forcibly, thrusting with intent.

  My mind halts. Breath stops. Sensations tip into the unknown.

  I’d thought earlier he had given me the biggest orgasm of my life. I’d been oh-so-wrong. My knees weaken, the burn of the rope on my wrists and legs only adds to the way I’m awakening. I sense the intensity of his thrusts, and his loud roar in my ear sounds off in the distance. Until there is no forest, no bindings, no blindfold.

  There is only him.

  Chapter 5

  Mallory

  That next morning, after I one-up Jackson’s practically perfect pancakes with one of my killer omelets, we’re heading out behind the cabin and hiking through the thick forest with a good sheen of bug spray coating our skin. A thin trail leads us up a short hill, and when my ankle twists on a small rock, I’m only too happy that I thought to bring my running shoes. The plus side of being a girl who likes comfort, I suppose.

  When we pass the spot in the forest we’d immensely enjoyed last night, Jackson winks and grins. I shiver and laugh softly, not oblivious to the heat just walking by those two trees brings.

  Once we finally reach the top of the hill, Jackson says from behind me, “All right, Mallory, I know you’re a sassy, sweet little thing, a legal assistant, and Aria’s best friend. What else don’t I know about you?”

  I keep an eye on the rocky ground beneath my shoes. “Is Jackson Keller capable of having a serious, in-depth conversation?”

  He snorts, and when I glance over my shoulder at him, he gives me a flippant look. “Why would you think otherwise?”

  I focus back on the ground in front of me, not wanting to fall. “Because Aria’s told me you’re not really the deep-talking kind of guy. You keep to the facts, very logical, she says.”

  When he stops, I turn to face him, finding him frowning. “How often do you two talk about me?” he asks firmly.

  “Not as often as you would like, I’m sure.” I grin.

  He tips his head back and barks a laugh. I can’t help but look at him a little deeper now. Aria knows him well. Very well, in fact. They spend time together outside of work but have always had this sister-brother vibe going on. She’s always told me that Jackson has an easygoing, sweet side that he doesn’t show many people. Truth be told, I hadn’t believed her. In the boardroom, he’s all business. Hot as hell, of course, with all the power and intensity but still deadly serious. Which makes all this more confusing. If Jackson’s this great guy, then why does Liam hate him so much?

  Though the way he laughed now, the crease to his warm eyes, I’m beginning to see that maybe Aria was onto something. He’s just not the guy I thought he was, but perhaps that’s because I was seeing him through Liam’s eyes. Now I’m seeing him through mine, and I like what I’m seeing.

  He gestures me forward so I turn around and start walking down the trail again, trees all around me, when he says, “Back to what I don’t know about you.”

  When we reach a group of boulders, I ponder through all the obvious things but figure he wants to know something personal. “I volunteer at the animal shelter twice a week.”

  He climbs onto the first boulder and offers his hand down to me. “How long have you been doing that?”

  Once he pulls me up, I answer, “A year or so.”

  We climb up three more large rocks before the ground flattens out and Jackson’s addressing me again. “What made you get into volunteering there?”

  “A commercial.”

  His brows rise in blatant surprise. “A commercial?”

  The path is thicker up here so I stride beside him, catching the sheen of sweat glistening over hard muscles. Really, he belongs in some lumberjack commercial. “You know those animal abuse commercials about dogs in shelters?” I focus on his face. “Have you ever seen one before?”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best; they’re absolutely heart wrenching.” I glance back down to my feet, making sure not to trip on a root. “I wish I could do more or give more money to the shelters, but since I can’t, I go twice a week for a couple hours.”

  “That’s awfully kind of you.”

  I smile at the compliment then focus on the trail ahead of me. “Have you ever thought about getting a dog?” I glance around at the trees, the open air. “This place would be a dog’s heaven.”

  “No, it’s never crossed my mind.”

  “Well, maybe it should cross your mind.” I step over a root sticking out of the ground then cross over some mud. “You have the means to give a dog a really great life.”

  “Do you have a dog?” he asks.

  “I wish,” I reply. “There’s this Alaskan shepherd, Draco, at the shelter right now that I would make mine in a second if I could.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  I glance back at him and gesture. “He needs this kind of life. I can’t give him that.” I start walking again. “Which is why he has trouble finding a home. L.A. is not the place for him, sadly. The couple that adopted him had him flown in. It’s a shame, really.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  I don’t even want to think about it. “Hopefully someone really active comes in and falls in love with him. He needs to run. He needs to go to the dog park every day. And hopefully, he finds that.” I draw in a deep breath then move along. “Back to you, though. If you did get a dog, I have the perfect name.”

  “Oh, really,” he says dryly. “What shall I name this dog that I don’t want?”

  “Muskoka.”

  His gaze become curious, head cocks. “Why Muskoka?”

  “So whenever you’re home in L.A., you’ll always have a little Muskoka with you.”

  He stops, staring at me. Intently. Deeply. And it’s in that moment, a rock decides to embarrass me. As I begin to fall, he catches me. “Easy now,” he murmurs.

  I shiver at the power of his arms, the sheer strength in his voice. “Stupid rock. Thanks,” I manage, righting myself.

  He winks. “The rocks are known to be deadly in these parts.”

  His joke breaks the intensity that’d been there between us. Regardless, I keep my eyes on the ground now, feeling the tingle of my skin where he’d touched.

  Silence stays between us when we climb another group of boulders, obviously moving up to a higher elevation. And soon, where the forest thins, we step out onto a large rock that gives an open view of the lake.

  “Wow,” I breathe, taking in the lake, the endless trees, the untouched beauty.

  His voice is soft behind me. “There’s no better view of this lake than right here.” I glance over my shoulder, and he gestures at the flat rock.

  Once we sit, I stare out at a canoe off in the distance, and my mind circles back to that emotion I picked up in his voice earlier, when we canoed. “Did your mother bring you here as a child?” I ask gently, hoping not to upset him with painful memories.

  He leans back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. “What made you ask that?”

  “Just a guess.” I shrug.

  “It’s a good one,” he says, glancing out at the treetops. “My grandmother was Canadian, so my mother spent her summers here in Muskoka. When I came along, the tradition continued.”

  “You spent every summer here?”

  He nods and smiles. “Up until I became too cool to spend so much time with my grandparent
s and mom.”

  “Ah, the good ole teenage years.” A hawk soars overhead, and I shade my eyes with my hand watching as the bird swoops down, obviously catching its breakfast. “How often do you come up here now? I mean, it’s a four-hour flight and a good two-and-a-half-hour drive from the airport.”

  “Sadly, not as much as I’d like.” He turns that powerful stare on me again. “I try and come up a few weeks out of the summer. A couple more weeks both in the spring and the fall.”

  “Better than nothing, though.”

  He agrees with a nod. “Better than nothing.”

  I glance back out at the lake, watching a loon dive under the water to pop up again a few feet away, more curious now about this place. “Was the cabin your grandparents’ then?” I ask, turning back to him.

  He shakes his head and gestures across the lake. “They owned that big white cottage there.”

  I follow his gaze, squinting off in the distance and finding a gorgeous cottage, if it can be really called that. Three stories, it looks more plantation house belonging in the South than cottage in Canada.

  Before I can ask why he’d give up that place for a little log cabin, he continues, “After my mother passed away, I wanted to do something with the money she left me. Something that would make her happy, so I had the cabin built.”

  He doesn’t want to talk more about it, I can tell. But my instincts tell me to press the conversation. “So, then what happened to your grandparents’ cottage? Do you still own that?”

  “I donated it after my mother died.”

  “To?”

  His gaze meets mine. “Hospice care.”

  The emotion in his expression slams into me. My heart is in my throat, and I’m fighting back tears. I wait until I know I won’t let those tears fall before I address him again. “I’m sure that would make your mother incredibly proud.”

  “It would, yes.” His smile is sweet, and I imagine his mother saw this smile a lot, when he adds, “When she took her last breath, she sat on the porch of that cottage staring out at this very view.” He turns to me then. “I think she was happy. She seemed it, anyway.” Any fighting the tears I thought I was doing was futile. A single tear slips down my cheek when he adds, “I wanted to give that type of peace to others. It’s the best way I thought I could memorialize her.” He cocks his head, regarding my tear sliding down my face.

  “I’m sorry; I’m a crier.” I wipe my tear, and then add, “I think that’s such an incredibly sweet thing for you to do.”

  “Mom was an incredibly sweet woman. It’s what she would’ve wanted.” He glances out at the water again.

  I can’t look away from him, seeing right then and there that Liam is dead wrong about Jackson. This man isn’t the “horrible piece of shit” Liam calls him. He’s the “gentle, strong soul” that Aria claims him to be.

  It’s like the blinders covering my eyes have been lifted.

  And I want more of what Jackson Keller is delivering.

  Jackson

  Later that night, stars spatter the dark sky, and the full moon casts a soft glow across the lake. I place another piece of wood on the crackling fire. Mallory sits on one of the oak Adirondack chairs positioned around the fire pit encased by rocks, her glass of wine resting on the armrest. She’s been quiet while I’ve been tending to the fire. Enough so that I can’t help wondering what’s resting so heavily on her mind. More importantly, I know the fact that I’m so invested in what’s on her mind is a problem. A big one.

  I’m not supposed to want this woman. That wasn’t the plan. And yet I do. I want to hear more of what she thinks, listen to her ramble. I like the way she sees the world. I’m beginning to see why Aria is best friends with Mallory. She feels good to be around.

  When the fire begins burning brightly again, I rise and move back to my seat next to her picking up my beer bottle on the armrest, discovering she’s staring at me intently. The orange hue of the fire casting over her cheekbones shows me her expression is thoughtful. I chuckle, and with that look, I take a guess at what she’s thinking. “If you want to know something about me, Mallory, ask.”

  “Even if it’s something incredibly personal?” she asks quickly.

  I give a firm nod. “Even if.” I have nothing to hide.

  She takes a sip of her wine and then shimmies her way to the end of her chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully on me. “Why do you and Liam hate each other so much?”

  I might not have anything to hide but I’m not overly thrilled to discuss Liam. We’re crossing a professional/personal line that can never be uncrossed. “Why are you wondering?” I ask before deciding if I should indulge this line of questioning.

  “Curiosity, really.” She gives a half-shrug. “I mean, I know we shouldn’t talk about Liam, because he’s my boss and all. But I gotta admit here, Jackson, I’m utterly confused.”

  “By?”

  “You’re not the guy that Liam makes you out to be.” She pauses, nibbling her lip. “Of course, Aria says the nicest things about you, but to be honest, I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t see how Liam could have you pegged so wrong.”

  I consider her little speech there. While I appreciate how honest she is with me, I come to my own conclusions. “You thought Aria saw something in me that wasn’t there?”

  Her smile is sweet, nod is quick. “Is that horrible of me?”

  “No, it’s not horrible at all,” I reassure, glancing at the fire as it crackles. “I can see how all of this with Liam is confusing.” I stare at the vibrant flames, discovering I don’t like how I’ve been perceived. I want her to understand. I take a long gulp of my beer before I return to the past. “I slept with Liam’s girlfriend Sophia.”

  Mallory’s mouth drops open, eyes widen. “You what?” she finally sputters.

  I chuckle against the rim of my beer bottle and take another swig before lowering the bottle back to the armrest. “I take it that was the last thing you were expecting me to say?”

  “Yes, totally, completely, the very last thing I thought you’d say.” She’s statue still in her seat, unblinking. “I thought maybe it had to do with business or money or something but wait…you slept with his girlfriend?”

  “I did,” I confirm.

  Mallory finally blinks, settling back into her seat. “When did this happen?”

  “Back in law school when we were roommates.”

  She blinks again. “You were roommates?”

  “We were.”

  Eyes still wide, she sips her wine, obviously attempting to recover from how I’ve blindsided her. After she swallows, she gives her head a firm shake and finally says, “Okay, that’s going to take a minute to process so let me just say that I’m surprised you guys lived together. In fact, I’m even more surprised that arrangement didn’t end up in murder.”

  I laugh at her joke, tilting my beer bottle toward her. “You and me both, and believe me, we almost did kill each other.”

  Mallory’s eyes slowly return to normal. She glances at the fire, obviously taking in what I’ve told her before addressing me again. “Can I ask what happened? Was it like a love triangle or something?”

  “There are two sides to this story,” I tell her simply. “My side and Liam’s side, and I’m sure they sound very different.”

  She waves me on. “Okay, what’s your side?”

  The fire crackles again. I glance at the flickering flames, revisiting that time in my life. “I slept with Sophia to force Liam to see the person that she was.” He’d been so blind back then. Maybe he still was that blind. I didn’t really give a shit either way. “Sophia was going to cheat on him. Whether it be me or someone else, and he was falling for her hard.”

  Mallory’s expression turns incredulous. “So, you were saving him by sleeping with her? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s how I saw it.”

  “And Liam?”

  I give a hard smile. “He didn’t see it that way.”

  Mallory gives a
small shrug. “Honestly, I can kind of see where he’s coming from.” Her voice gets soft, small. “It’s a pretty shitty thing to do to someone, let alone your roommate and friend.”

  I’m not offended she sides with Liam. I like her honesty. It’s a trait that I don’t see much of nowadays. Everyone wants to please me. Kiss my ass. I like that she tells it to me straight. “You’re right, it is a fucked-up thing to do to anyone, on one hand.”

  “And on the other hand?”

  “Liam wouldn’t listen, no matter what I said. I told him time and time again that she was a gold-digging, unfaithful bitch, but he wouldn’t hear me. She had his head all fucked up.”

  “Okay, I guess I can understand that, but why did you go to those extremes to get him to see how terrible she was?”

  An ember suddenly shoots out from the flames, and I extinguish it with the heel of my shoe, explaining, “He was going to propose to her.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” I say with a nod. “He told me that he planned that next week to buy the ring. This chick was a piece of work, and she had him played. He simply couldn’t see it.”

  I watch Mallory for a moment, while she’s watching me intently. It’s hard for me to read her but I think I like that about her. I need to work to get inside her head. I have to earn it.

  She finally cocks her head and asks, “Do you ever regret doing that to him?”

  I ponder how honest to be. I decide I need full transparency. “I regret that it cost us our friendship. What I don’t regret is that I broke them up. That bitch would have destroyed Liam, whether he wanted to admit it or not.”

  “I see,” she says, looking at the fire.

  I let the silence take us away, giving her time to understand my side of the story.

  She finally glances back at me with a new question. “For curiosity’s sake, whatever happened to Sophia?”

  I grab my official fire-poking stick that always stays near my chair at the fire pit and begin poking at the fire, readjusting the burning wood. “I hadn’t seen her in a really long time. This happened back in our twenties; but a few years ago, I represented out of town clients, and I actually ran into her in the courtroom. We caught up for a couple minutes. From what she told me, she’s gone through two multi-millionaires and a billionaire, working on her fourth marriage now.”