Or maybe he didn't like big breasts. Perhaps he preferred a more streamlined appearance to his women.
Maybe he would be attracted to a plank body like mine.
At that startling thought, my eyes went wide.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
I buried my blazing face into the pillow, trying to ignore the burning…lower down.
I even found myself entertaining thoughts of being held by him.
A second later, I laughed at myself. Who was I kidding? My boss belonged on the cover of magazines, not buried behind a pile of manuscripts and a computer that was always on. He belonged with a beautiful, full-breasted woman, not a skinny, chest-less wonder like me.
With that shock of dark hair brushing the tops of his wide shoulders, silver stud shining in his right earlobe, and facial structure that plastic surgeons would kill to emulate…
Fifteen minutes later, I was still staring at the ceiling, slumber eluding me like a live eel in soapy hands.
I flopped over in bed and found the small bottle of personal lubricant stuck way back in my nightstand drawer.
If sleep wouldn't come, then I would have to find it, grab it by the hair, and hit it against the proverbial wall a few times.
Still, it took a few fumbling moments to unscrew the bottle; I hadn't satisfied myself in a long time, although that was more my fault than anyone else's. I blamed my lack of a sex drive.
But not today.
Not with the thoughts of Nobuki Miyano still fresh in my mind.
And if he wasn't going to go away, then I'd put him to good use.
The sounds of late-night traffic wafted through the half-closed window over my head and a soft breeze blew across my face. I popped off the cap and pumped a small squirt of lube on my fingers.
Touching myself was always awkward and not pleasant with bare fingers, but the lubricant was soft and cool against my heated core.
I slowly worked my fingers up and around my clit, eyes closed, as I imagined someone else's fingers bringing a soft cry to my lips.
Nobuki.
It was Nobuki's gentle touch on my sex, pressing against the hard kernel, flicking it softly.
It was his hand dipping down to my opening, slipping in one finger, then another.
Sweat beaded on my temple as I imagined being cradled against him. I fooled myself into thinking I could feel his hardness pressed against me as his fingers worked a frenetic pace against my wet, pulsating core.
The world exploded into stars of black and white as I came, my cry muffled by the pillow, body tensed tight like a drawn wire.
I didn't think I'd climaxed that hard…ever.
Breathing heavily, I kicked off my blankets and languished in the feeling of satisfaction coursing through me.
With the scent of release thick on my fingers and in the air, my eyes closed and I knew nothing more.
Nobuki Miyano was in my dreams.
It shouldn't have been a surprise, since he was the last thing I'd thought of before falling asleep.
But I never dreamed about sex, and this was…very sexual.
We were in the office, on the same desk where Aimi and Mr. Abe had had sex more times than I could count.
Nobuki had me pressed against the table, the edge digging into the backs of my legs, as his tongue worked between my thighs.
I should have felt ashamed, with my skirt bunched up around my waist and nonexistent panties. I should have been horrified that we were no better than my previous bosses.
I should have felt dirty, disgusted.
But I didn't.
I felt…free.
Liberated.
Nobuki's tongue made my hips bump wildly against the desk, and I clenched my fingers tighter into his hair. I pressed close to him, fighting for the wild release that would turn my world into a single pinpoint of light.
"Don't stop," I gasped out, sensing the elusive climax just out of reach. I wanted it. No, I needed it. It had to happen. If he didn't satisfy me, right here—me on my feet, him on his knees— I would scream.
With one luxuriously long lick up all the way, bringing me to my toes, he pulled back, mouth glistening from my wetness.
"What?" I gasped out, knees shaking, hands curled onto the desk so I wouldn't fall flat on my face. "That's it? You're just going to stop? Now?"
He stood back up and kissed me. I tasted myself on him, thick, almost salty, and even though I'd never enjoyed the flavor of a woman, I couldn't get enough from his lips.
Perhaps it was because it wasn't just myself I was tasting, but also him—earthy and spicy at the same time.
I knew this was a dream. Some part of me knew it was a dream, and therefore I could indulge myself. Consequences meant nothing. In the morning, Nobuki wouldn't look at me like he was looking at me now, with my moisture shining on his lips.
No.
He wouldn't even look at me once the dream was over.
I was okay with that.
For once, just once, I wanted to be fucked by someone as arrogant, confident, and beautiful as him.
Tomorrow, I'd go back to hating him.
But for tonight, I'd take this opportunity and do everything I had ever wanted to do to a man.
Slowly, he undid the buttons to his shirt.
My fingers tingled to touch him.
Nobuki was moving too slow, and judging from the heated smile on his face, he knew the effect he had on me.
It took two steps to cover the distance between us and I grabbed his hands, feeling the warmth seep through my chilled fingers.
His smile flickered. "What are you doing?"
His voice sounded different in the dream. Warm and gentle, not cold and arrogant. "What I've always wanted to do."
I put my hands on his gaping shirt and gave a quick jerk.
And, because this was my dream, the shirt parted easily.
I ran my fingers down his sun-kissed chest, reveling in the silk underneath my fingertips. Silk over steel, I thought, as my hand hovered over his abs.
"I want to see you now," he whispered and I shivered, hands on the belt buckle at his waist.
"No," I said, undoing the belt and discarding his pants. "Not yet. This is my dream. I'll do what I want. You'll have to wait."
His smile widened. "If that is what you wish, my lady."
If this was reality, I wouldn't have been bold enough to strip the clothes off my boss.
No, I would have collapsed in a pool of complete and utter embarrassment. The number of times I had been confident enough to take the initiative was pathetically low.
Or the guys I dated were just…not my type.
When I took his hard cock in my hand, he shivered, hands clenched at his sides, head thrown back to expose the strong column of his neck.
It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen in my entire life.
A clear liquid seeped from the tip and I caught it on the tip of my tongue.
Admittedly, I wasn't a fan of oral sex, not in receiving it or giving it.
My excuse? I was too damn vulnerable in either position to enjoy it much.
Just about everything regarding sex made me feel vulnerable as hell, which explained why I'd never had much fun.
Until now.
I had control.
And it was…intoxicating.
He tasted like salt and something musty. Not unpleasant, with an indefinable aftertaste that made me run my tongue down his warm, hard length again.
Now it was me who had him pressed against the desk, the edge digging into his thighs, his fingers threaded deep into my hair as he worked me along his cock.
And I loved every inch, every second.
This power I had over him, I reveled in it.
I pulled him deep inside my mouth until I thought I would gag on the long length of him.
But instead of feeling uncomfortable, instead of feeling ill, I considered it a personal challenge.
I wanted to take him deeper inside, w
anted him to feel as much pleasure as he brought me.
I wanted him to believe he wouldn't feel this way with anyone but me.
I wanted him addicted to me.
Because I was addicted to him.
Everything about him.
The smell of him.
The feel of him.
The taste of him.
His fingers tightened into my hair and he pulled away, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his lean, muscular chest.
"Wait," he breathed, his eyes wide and glowing. "Wait. I don't want to come yet. I don't want this to be over."
He pulled me up and turned us around, until I was pressed against the desk, nowhere to run or hide.
Not that I wanted to.
"Take off your clothes," he whispered, voice husky, and then a corner of his beautiful lips kicked up. "But not too fast. Unlike you, I like the anticipation."
I stuck out my tongue at him. "That's because you don't know how good it feels to be instantly gratified."
He groaned low, and the timbre, the vibration, ran through me. "Much as I'd love for you continue working on me with that tongue, how about a rain check?"
It was easy enough to agree to something I knew would never happen again.
But I wouldn't feel sorry for myself now. When I woke up, sure, but not now. Not with my dream lover in front of me, his eyes half-closed in desire.
"Well?" he prompted and hooked a finger in the neckline of my shirt. "Take it off."
I wore a soft cashmere violet sweater with a scoop neck that was so wide my shoulder peeked through one side. I slid out of it, slowly exposing one inch at a time.
Underneath, I wore a frilly white bra with a small pink bow, a pearl dangling between the cups.
He reached out and sent the pearl swinging from side to side.
My nipples puckered.
The bra was pretty but, to my dismay, my breasts were just the size they always were. Not bigger, like I'd always wanted.
His hands splayed over the mounds, thumbs dipping in under the cups, and I sucked in a breath, my stomach fluttering.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmured.
And with him, I was. After all, he was my dream lover. He would love everything about me—all my imperfections, all my scars, both inside and out.
I reached up to unlatch the bra front clasp but he stopped me, his hands on mine.
"Wait."
"For?" I could hardly breathe and my chest heaved, pressing even my minuscule breasts into something resembling cleavage.
"I want to do it."
His fingers crept up my spine, eliciting shivers in their wake, and he flicked the clasp open.
Even in my dream, I was self-conscious about my breast size and held the bra against my chest. "I'm not—"
"It's okay," he said, taking my bra away and letting it drop to the floor. "You're beautiful, every damn inch of you."
My face heated. "If you say so."
He went back down to his knees and pressed his face against my naked torso, breathing in deep.
"You smell…amazing," he said, eyes closed. "I've never smelled anyone like you."
"What is it like?"
He breathed in again and warmth flooded my core. My panties would have been drenched if I hadn't tossed them aside long ago.
"Vanilla. Sugar. Roses. Lilacs," he whispered, lips against my belly.
My stomach quivered as he licked a long line along my pelvis, his tongue a startling red against my pale skin. "Is it nice?"
"Nice?" he asked and then stood up. "More than nice. I love it. I love you."
And I took it as a given.
Because who doesn't want their dream lover to proclaim everlasting love while making passionate love?
I tried to pull down the zipper of my gray skirt, but he stopped me.
"What's wrong?"
His teeth glinted white. "Considering what you did to my shirt, perhaps I should take it from here?"
My laughter was shaky. "O-okay."
He pulled the zipper down so slowly, by the time the skirt fell to my ankles, I was a mass of twitching nerves.
Naked, I fought the instinctive urge to cross my arms. I guess even in dreams, being a prude came easily to me.
He put his arms under my thighs, the muscles jerking under his strong, gentle touch, as he lifted me just enough to place me on the desktop.
Something stopped me, made the breath catch in my throat.
It wasn't pleasant.
He looked at me carefully. "What's wrong?"
"Not…" I licked my dry lips. "Not here."
He nodded. "This is where they liked to…"
"Have sex," I completed. "God, they sounded like…animals."
A brow went up. "And how do we sound?"
Damn, my cheeks were hot. "You know what I mean."
"Not here, then?"
"Not here."
He nodded and the stud in his right ear caught the light streaming through the blinds. "Understood."
He took me in his arms, lifted me as though I weighed nothing, and carried me the few steps to an armchair on the other side of the room.
"Here?" I asked, apprehensive. "What if I fall off?"
"Don't worry," he replied, lips against my neck. "I'll catch you."
He settled on the seat, his hands splayed against my ass as he leaned against the cushioned wicker back.
"Do you think they had sex here?"
"I don't…I don't think so," I said, adjusting in his lap, surprised at how close it brought me to his handsome face. "Too close to the door. They tried to be discreet, for what it's worth."
"Do you want to be discreet?"
This wasn't even real. Fuck discretion. "No. Not at all."
The corners of his eyes crinkled. "Perfect. Get on your knees."
He looked so damned relaxed in the chair, chin on one hand, watching me with those piercing eyes.
The fact that he was naked did nothing to detract from the power seeping from him.
Confidence.
I wanted to bring him down, just a bit. Remind him he was just as human as the rest of us.
"So?" he asked, his gaze searing through me.
I moved just enough to feel his hot length pressing against my thigh.
"Really?" he said dryly. "Your sense of direction is deplorable."
His words galvanized me as a terrified little laugh escaped my lips.
For as much control as I had over everything that was going on in my dream, there was still a mantra of Oh, my god, what am I doing? playing over and over in the back of my mind.
I sat up on my knees and took his hard cock in one hand.
He drew in a quick breath. "Good. That's a start."
God, he could be such an arrogant ass, even in my dream.
And despite the mild panic and terror taking hold of me, I was wet, and the tip of his cock slid in smoothly.
My throat tightened.
"That's it?" he asked.
Inch by agonizing inch, I slid down his length, unbelievably stretched, positive that at some point, there'd be no more of me for him.
My hands clenched his shoulders as I sat on him, a small cry erupting from my throat.
"That's better," he said and put his hands on my waist. "That's much better."
He began to move, and I was apt to agree with him.
God, I'd forgotten.
Forgotten how it felt to have something warm between my legs, forgotten the friction, warming me from the inside out.
He laughed softly. "Too much?"
I chose not to dignify that with an answer and concentrated on that inexplicable feeling. The constant up and down of the motion that stole the breath from my throat made me want more.
The pace never changed.
He worked me up and brought me down on his cock, grinding our hips together. Liquid warmth seeped between us, the scent further inflaming my senses.
This wasn't enough.
I pulled his hands
off my waist, our fingers intertwined as I quickened the pace, fast enough for it to almost hurt.
My climax was so damn close.
But just when I thought I would come, it fell away, like waves ebbing away from the shore. I groaned, too frustrated to do anything but keep riding him.
So close.
But not close enough!
He laughed. "Having trouble?"
I kissed him, drinking in our mingled tastes. "Shut up and fuck me."
His laughter stopped. "As you wish."
He snaked his hand between us and his fingers brushed against my engorged clit, making me jump.
I bucked even harder against him.
"Again," I ground out, hands clenching his slick shoulders. "Please, please, please. Make me come. Make me come, please."
He complied.
Again and again.
I came, screaming into his mouth as he pounded into me, his muscles tensed underneath my scrabbling fingers and I tried to hold on tight in the wake of the most powerful climax I had ever experienced in my life.
He jerked against me, his warmth spurting into my core. His breath was heavy against my chin as his arms tightened around me, pressing us together into one being of pleasure.
"I love you, Nobuki," I whispered as he shuddered into me. "God, I love you."
***
Jesus.
What a dream.
I stared at the white walls, light from the morning sun streaming in through the half open curtains, the sounds of birds and the occasional bus echoing in my ears.
In a nest of sweaty blankets, with my pajama top thrust up almost over my face, my heart pounded like a jackhammer.
The blaring alarm shrieked through the room, through my head. It pierced through me and I groaned, turning over in my damp sheets.
I slammed a hand on the alarm clock, turning off the beeping before my neighbor could knock on my door to complain. Because that meant I'd have to get out of bed to assure him I wasn't dead. I didn't think I was up for getting out of bed just yet.
I could just not answer the door and leave Mr. Hamano to his own devices, but then he'd get my mom to open the door, and if she found me lying in bed, there'd be words.
Just another downside to living in an apartment building where my parents were my landlords.
The Handsome Devil (Kissing the Boss Book 1) Page 4
