Dirty Boss

by Crystal Kaswell

  He was in control.

  It was hot as hell.

  Pleasure built as he licked me up and down. I groaned, my free hand digging into the cool cotton sheets. His tongue was soft and his movements were confident.

  Finally, I understood all the fuss about oral sex.

  It was amazing.

  My sex clenched, tighter and tighter, then so tight I wanted to scream. His next lick sent me tumbling into an orgasm.

  "Nick." I groaned his name as I came. It encouraged him, made his tongue faster, more desperate.

  He kissed his way back up my body, not shy about pressing his lips to mine.

  It was strange tasting myself. Intimate.

  I ran my hands down his stomach. When I got to his belly button he recoiled. His fingers curled around my wrist.

  "Wait." He pressed my hand flat against the bed.

  The look in his eyes was clear. He didn't want me touching him.

  It was a shame, but I could manage it.

  He grabbed a condom from the bedside table and rolled it on. I leaned back, spreading my legs to give him access.

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself. He was big.

  Nick slid one hand under my ass, holding me in place. His cock strained against my sex. The latex tugged for a moment, then he slipped inside me.

  Fuck yes. My body cried out with relief. I dug my nails into his strong back as he thrust into me. He started slow, then went faster, harder, deeper. I rocked my hips to match his movements.

  There were no words, but his body communicated so much.

  Maybe I'd drunk too much of that whiskey, but I felt more than his cock inside me. There were no pretenses. This was Nick, the real Nick.

  And it was the real me. I'd given him a fake name, but I wasn't holding anything back.

  I was giving myself to him. For the night.

  Every thrust sent me closer to another orgasm. This tall, dark, handsome stranger's body was pressed against mine.

  The anonymity of it had me breathless. He was never going to see me again. There was no reason to be shy.

  I clawed at his back, panting and groaning. He had to know how good I felt, how much I wanted him.

  Every time I scraped my nails against his back or screamed his name, Nick moved faster or harder. His body was shaking. His eyes were heavy. He groaned and dug his teeth into the skin on my shoulder.

  I bucked my hips to meet him. My heart was racing, my breath was completely out of my control. He felt good inside me. His skin felt good against mine. His lips felt good against mine.

  And the night was ours.

  When I came, I held back nothing. I screamed and panted and rocked my hips as quickly as I could.

  Nick dug his nails into my ass, holding my body against his so he could go deeper.

  He wasn't far behind. He nipped at my shoulder as he came.

  Our bodies untangled. I relaxed into the bed as he took care of the condom. He shifted back, next to me. His expression was soft, like we were old lovers instead of strangers.

  "Have you eaten?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Then allow me." He pressed his lips to mine, pushed off the bed, and stepped into his slacks.

  The rest of the night was a blur, thanks very much to the powers of rum and Diet Coke.

  We ate at some fantastic hole-in-the-wall Chinese place. The food was spicy, authentic.

  I let everything off my chest, told Nick things I'd never told anyone. About the accident. About how lonely I was at school. About the things I wanted for my future, the way it only included me and my sister—no husband, no children, no pets. No concerns but my career. No one I could lose forever.

  Back in the hotel room, we had sex. I fell asleep in his arms.

  When I woke, he was gone. There was a change of clothes, all in my size, on the table. Next to it was a present—a white box with a sheer red bow. The card was simple.

  Dear Marie,

  Happy birthday. Think of me when you wear this.

  Sincerely,

  Nick

  I pulled at the bow until it unfurled then opened the box. Inside was a set of lacy black lingerie. It was exactly like him—classy, elegant, refined.

  I changed into my new threads. Knowing the lingerie was under my simple jeans and t-shirt made me feel racy, like I had a secret from the world.

  I did. We did. We'd had this night together, and even though we'd never see each other again, it was ours.

  Chapter Three

  Today

  My cell phone's ring rouses me from my daydreams. Sarah.

  "Hey," I answer.

  "Meet me at 8:30 for dancing? Pretty please."

  My friend's brand of dance-until-you-find-someone-to-take-home fun is exactly what I need. "That sounds perfect."

  "Robin is still fucking that guy from The Gap. She went over there twenty minutes ago."

  "Maybe they're having a nice conversation."

  "You're not that naive, sweet thang." She laughs. "Club is all ages tonight. Leave your fake ID at home."

  "Done." My mood lifts. I latch onto my desire to lose myself in music. Not as good as losing myself in Nick's groans, but it's all I've got. "See you then."

  "Ciao, bella."

  I hang up and toss my phone on the bed in the guest room. The silence of the apartment amplifies my thoughts.

  I dig through my bottom drawer to find the lingerie set he gave me. The sight of it is enough to make my heart race. My sex clenches, my body remembering the finesse of his touch.

  I do away with my clothes and pull on the lacy black bra and panty set.

  It's almost like he's here. Like he's on the other side of the mirror, staring back at me with his eyes wide and his lips parted. Like he's about to press me onto the bed, peel my thong to my knees, and bury himself deep inside me.

  But he's not here.

  He's not fucking me.

  He's not going to fuck me.

  There are half a million eligible men in New York City.

  Tonight, I'm going to find one, and I'm going to forget all about Phoenix Marlowe.

  I meet Sarah at a club on the Lower East Side. Her hot pink dress makes her easy to spot.

  She bounces over and throws her arms around me.

  I hug her back. It's been a while. It's nice to see her.

  "You look hot as fuck. You're out for cock tonight, huh?" She throws her brown hair over her shoulder. "Oh shit. Your job thing was today, huh?"

  "It was a nightmare." I need to think about something else. Now. "How's Pixie Dust?"

  "Same old shit." She takes my arm and pulls me to the entrance. "What happened?"

  "The guy who owns the company doesn't think I'm good enough for it."

  "Fuck him then."

  God, how I want to.

  At nine on a Wednesday, there's no line. We show our IDs at the door—the backs of my hands are marked with swanky black Xs to signify that I am absolutely not to be served any alcohol—and walk inside.

  The warehouse-turned-club has tall ceilings and soft red lighting. The dance floor is packed. The room is warm with body heat.

  Sarah whispers in my ear, "I'll get you a rum and diet. Meet you on the floor."

  She crosses to the bar. I follow a few paces behind, stopping in the middle of the vinyl. It only takes a moment for someone to approach me—a guy in his mid-twenties with strawberry blond hair and a navy shirt. It's a good combination.

  "I'm Jason." He offers his hand.

  I slide it around my waist. "Let's dance."

  Okay, Jason. Let's do this. He's no Phoenix Marlowe but he's cute. He seems nice. I sling my arm around his neck and get close.

  My body refuses to respond to his. Instead, it whines tell Nick you're over the internship. That you'd rather get under him.

  Dammit, I thought my body and I were finally on good terms. I try, hard, to find a connection with Jason, but it's not happening. I try to lean back, to let him lead, but he can't handle it. He looks
at me with uncertainty.

  "You want to come to my place?" he asks.

  Okay. Maybe I can work with that. I go to nod, to say yes, but my head fills with the image of Nick naked on that bed, his perfect, hard body pressed against mine.

  Jason will not do.

  Nothing but Nick will do.

  "Thanks but I... I have a boyfriend." Can't get over someone. Same difference. I take a step backwards. "My friend, Sarah. You're her type." She has a thing for blonds but he's close enough. I scan the room for her but her pink dress is nowhere to be found. "I'll point her to you later."

  Jason nods enthusiastically. Great. He's not even pretending like I'm more than a lay. Not that I can talk. I'm more than willing to use him to forget about Nick.

  Only nothing will make me forget about Nick. It's been four months and he still drifts into my head every night.

  I excuse myself and dance alone. It's not quite as fun, but there's nothing limiting my movement. One thing about almost losing your ability to walk—you learn to appreciate everything your hips can do.

  I make figure eights, rolling my shoulders, shifting my weight between my legs.

  My attention focuses on the pounding music and the motions of my body.

  It's like a record skips.

  There's this tall man thirty feet away. Dark hair, sleek black suit, perfect posture.

  Nick.

  His eyes find mine. They're just as demanding as they were in his office, as they were that night in San Francisco. He walks to me with a patient gait. His hand brushes against my shoulder. He leans in close, so his mouth is inches from my ear. "Let's talk."

  I rise to my tiptoes so I can speak into his ear. It's the only way to communicate besides screaming. "What are you doing here?"

  "This isn't a private club."

  "Not your scene either." I step back. "Unless you're here to find a woman to take back to your place."

  His eyes bore into me. He points to the red couch in the corner.

  I step to the side. "We don't have anything to talk about. You have your company, and I have nothing. You don't have to rub it in."

  "This is important."

  His grip tightens around my shoulder, more protective than forceful. Heat rushes through my body. It's like I'm on fire. That demanding look in his eyes is enough to undo me, but his hands on my skin?

  My breath catches in my throat. I take another step sideways. Nick wants to talk. I want that job. This opportunity is more important than my pride.

  That doesn't make it easier to look at him without melting.

  "Fine." I follow him to the couch in the corner. It's still loud, but not loud enough to overpower a conversation.

  Nick sits next to me. His knee connects with mine. He turns his body towards mine, planting his hand just outside my thigh.

  His thumb brushes against the hem of my dress. He moves his hand an inch, like it really was an accident. "I can't have this information get out."

  "Which part—that you fucked me or that you chose not to hire me because of it?" So much for swallowing my pride. I really need a better handle on my temper.

  "My personal life needs to stay private."

  "Next time try using the telephone instead of stalking a girl to a club. How did you even know I was here?"

  "Your friend tagged you on Instagram."

  "You looked for me on social media?"

  I go to push myself off the couch but Nick grabs my wrist.

  "I called the number from your résumé three times."

  I dig into my purse and find my phone to see if he's telling the truth. He is. One call while I was getting ready, another around the time I got off the subway. Which means call three happened sometime while I was underground.

  One point in the Nick-isn't-an-asshole tally.

  "I did a background check," he says.

  "Why?"

  "Standard procedure for all potential Odyssey employees." He stares into my eyes. "You're only nineteen. You have a fake ID."

  "I plead the fifth." I hold up the back of my hand to show off my nifty X. "This is an all-ages club."

  "You're eight years younger than I am."

  "Yeah, well it's not like we're going to get married." I throw my brown hair back. I have a goal here, and it's not to insult Nick as much as possible within a fifteen-minute span. It's to get a job at his company. I clear my throat and offer a polite smile. "If you don't trust me, I understand, but I'm not going to tell anyone about the night we spent together."

  "Your sister?"

  "Do you have a problem with Blake Sterling or just with me knowing him?"

  "Both."

  "Blake is the one who told me about your company. He's not interested in stealing your trade secrets."

  "How can you be sure?" His eyes bore into me.

  "You think I would do that to you?"

  "I don't think with my cock."

  My chest pangs. That's all I am to him—some girl he fucked. I clear my throat, holding strong. "He wouldn't send me as a spy." I press my palms into my thighs. "He knows I don't trust him."

  "You're staying in his apartment."

  "How the fuck do you know that?"

  "You listed it as your address in your application."

  "Oh." My back softens. "I'm staying for winter break. Our old place is sublet, and I don't exactly have the spare cash for a hotel. If I don't get this internship, it's back to California, to the Stanford dorms."

  Nick's shoulders relax. "You'll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement."

  "Of course." It's standard procedure at every tech company.

  "It will include our personal relationship."

  That's not as standard. I take a sharp breath. "What personal relationship is that?"

  "I'm not going to fuck an intern."

  Great, I'm an intern. In his head, I don't even have a name.

  Wait.

  I'm an intern.

  I have to sign an NDA.

  He's offering me the job.

  Well, I guess it’s technically an internship. Since it’s for school credit.

  I tug at the hem of my dress, accidentally revealing my purple tights all the way to mid-thigh. Okay, maybe it's more my subconscious taking over. "Are we... friends?"

  "We're colleagues. I'm expecting you to keep this professional. As far as I'm concerned, we met today. Do you understand me?"

  I nod. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I know enough about working to hold my tongue.

  His expression softens. "I want you, Lizzy. You're the best candidate. And the only one who isn't as dull as a doorknob."

  The way he says it, I want you, Lizzy—it does things to me. Makes it difficult to breathe.

  As if on cue, Sarah approaches us. She hands me a half drunk rum and diet and shakes Nick's hand.

  "I'm Sarah."

  "Lizzy's new boss." He turns to me. "I'll send an offer in the morning. You start immediately."

  "I haven't agreed to take the position."

  "You will."

  His hand brushes against my thigh as he shifts off the couch. It sends a wave of heat through my body.

  The way he's looking at me, the stern tone of his voice—I want to close my eyes and drink it in.

  I want to throw myself on this couch and spread my legs as wide as they'll go.

  Fortunately, my libido isn't quite as unchecked as my temper. I smooth my dress and take a small sip of my beverage.

  Nick's eyes go to my drink. "You're nineteen."

  "And it's a Diet Coke."

  "Diet Coke is almost black. There's rum in that drink."

  Sarah looks at me, her eyes wide with wonder. She mouths holy shit.

  Okay, so Nick has the observational powers of a god. That will make it more difficult to keep my list under wraps.

  He slides his hand into his pocket. "I am not understanding about employee indiscretions."

  I slurp the last drop of my rum and diet. "Still didn't take the job yet."r />
  My snappy comeback does nothing to soothe me. He's still so cool and collected. That night must not have meant anything to him.

  I make a point of bending over to set my drink on the floor. My dress shifts down, revealing the top of my lacy black bra. The one he gave me.

  He licks his lips. His pupils dilate. He doesn't hide that he's staring.

  Doesn't hide that he wants me.

  My cheeks flush. I should feel victorious—Nick wants me—but I feel deprived. Empty.

  I can't have him.

  I want him. He wants me. But we have to stay professional.

  Sometimes, I loathe adulthood.

  Nick nods goodbye to Sarah. "Nice to meet you." His gaze catches mine. "Take the morning to finish arranging everything. Ms. Lee will expect you in the office by 1:00."

  "Okay."

  "Goodnight, Lizzy."

  He leans in, close enough that I can smell his cologne, and kisses me on the cheek.

  My lungs empty. He was close enough to kiss me. He did kiss me. On the cheek, yeah, but his lips were on my skin.

  And now he's walking away.

  "Goodnight." I press my hands against my tights.

  Sarah fans herself. "Holy fuck, Lizzy. That's your boss? He sure puts Robin to shame."

  I turn back to the dance floor, but it's like all the energy is being sucked out a black hole. I don't want to dance with any of these guys. Not when I can still smell Nick's cologne.

  My eyes flutter closed. I can almost taste his lips. I can almost feel his hands on my skin, his body pressed against mine, his cock—

  "Snap out of it. Go after him or forget about him. You're not moping on my watch." She leans in to whisper. "He was looking at you with fuck-me eyes." You should go after him.

  "He's my boss and this opportunity is important to me."

  Sarah pouts. "Then let's find someone who will get your mind off him."

  I nod, determined to prove I can want someone more than I want Nick. Anything is possible. "And if you see Kat—"

  "My lips are sealed, sweet thang."

  I try half a dozen dance partners. All of them pale in comparison to Nick.

  My body remains flushed and wanting. All the dancing in the world will do nothing to release the tension between my legs.

  I sit on the couch with a drink while I wait to approve Sarah's fuck of the night as safe enough to leave with.