Dirty Boss

by Crystal Kaswell

  "Then I'll walk with you."

  Half of me wants to tell him to get lost. The other half wants to ask him to rip off my clothes.

  He wants me too. But this doesn't sound like an invitation to my apartment.

  "I don't need an escort. I'm a big girl." I pull my coat tighter. I'm already here. I might as well go for broke. "Unless you're inviting yourself over."

  He stops and stares into my eyes. "You don't have any idea what you're getting yourself into."

  "Inform me."

  Instead of responding, he motions for me to follow him.

  I do.

  We go straight to the downtown side of the subway station. I tap my toe, trying to feel anything but overwhelmed. Nick is just as imposing outside of the office as in it. He drips power and status.

  It's freezing down here. I hug my arms around my chest, a protection from the cold, from Nick's assumption that I can't handle him. Whatever that means.

  There's a weight around my shoulders. His coat. I look back to Nick to confirm. Sure enough, he's standing there in his sleek black suit. He's so unreadable. Did it really hurt his feelings when I called him a robot?

  It's not a nice thing to say.

  I toss his jacket back to him. "If you want to keep me warm, do it with your arms, not your coat."

  "Has anyone ever told you that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?"

  "Fruit flies are attracted to vinegar." I shove my hands into my pockets. "And that's a stupid cliché. You're smarter than that."

  "Is that what you want?"

  "Fruit flies? No thank you."

  "Do you really want my arms around you? Can you really handle that?"

  I swallow hard. "Yes."

  "If that's all it is?"

  I nod.

  "You're lying."

  "Prove it."

  A metallic whir echoes through the station. Our train is here. I adopt a patient, calm expression as the doors open.

  We step inside.

  It's empty. We're the only passengers on this particular car. No one goes downtown on a Friday night.

  The doors slide shut. The train picks up.

  Nick moves closer. His arms slide around my sides and he pulls me into a deep, tight hug. Heat passes through me. It's instant. My stomach, my chest, my fingers, and my toes are warm.

  That ache builds between my legs. Nick's arms are around me. It's not enough. I need all of him, every way I can have him.

  He smells so good.

  Nick steps back. His eyes meet mine. "Do you really want me to tease you, Lizzy?" He unbuttons my coat. His hand goes to the zipper of my dress. "You'll go home even more frustrated."

  I press my lips together. No way I'm relenting now. No matter how right he is. "Try me."

  He pulls the zipper to my stomach. He drags his fingertips over the outline of my bra, from one shoulder to the other.

  He does it again.

  Again.

  Heat surges through my body.

  His eyes are glued to mine. His expression is intense. Captivating. Totally in control.

  Every touch builds the ache inside me.

  How is it possible I need him more?

  I bite my lip to keep from moaning. To keep from begging.

  "I'm not frustrated." I press my knees together.

  "Don't lie to me again."

  I swallow hard. "Or?"

  "Or I'll punish you."

  "What if I want you to punish me?"

  His voice is stern. "Do you?"

  "What does it matter if you don't fuck interns?"

  "I could snap my fingers and destroy your career." He grabs my wrists and pulls my hands behind my back.

  I struggle against his grip, but he holds tight. There's no strain in his expression. It's nothing.

  "I can overpower you without breaking a sweat." He releases me.

  He can. And it makes my sex clench. It makes me hotter.

  He stares into my eyes. "What makes you think it's a good idea to challenge me?"

  I step backwards and plant in a seat. I uncross my legs, spreading them wide on my way to crossing them again.

  His gaze follows my movements. His pupils dilate.

  "I can destroy you right back," I say. "Blake Sterling is obsessed with my sister. He'd do anything for her. If I ask, he'll crush your company."

  "You won't ask."

  "How do you know?"

  "I know enough about you."

  I stare back at him. "You won't destroy my career."

  "How do you know?"

  "You're not petty like that."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. And if not, I don't mind going down as long as I take you with me."

  He smiles. "You talking about mutually assured destruction or about oral sex?"

  "Either way."

  After we get off the train, Nick leads the way to my building. We go straight to the elevator.

  Its doors slide together. Except for the camera in the ceiling, we're alone.

  Nick turns towards me. He unbuttons my coat. His fingertips graze the neckline of the dress, all the way to the still-pulled-down zipper.

  I lean into his touch. My eyelids press together. My lips part. I don't have it in me to suppress my moan. His touch is too intoxicating.

  Nick shifts. His hands go to my ass. He lifts me and pins me against the wall. His hold is so tight, I can barely breathe.

  I stare back at him. "Whatever point you're proving, I like it."

  "And when I leave without fucking you?"

  "I'm not a fan of that part, but it's probably for the best. I don't have any condoms."

  "You have a smart mouth."

  "Yeah?"

  "It's a defense. It means you're nervous."

  I admit nothing.

  The elevator dings. My floor. Nick sets me down. His eyes are on fire. He's hard. He wants this as much as I do.

  But he's still resisting.

  Why?

  I pull my coat over my shoulders as I make my way down the hall.

  He follows me inside.

  With the lights off, the only illumination comes from the moon and the warm blue of the sky.

  I toss my purse on my bed and shrug my coat off my shoulders.

  His posture is stiff, formal.

  "Can I take your coat?" I offer.

  "No."

  He's still here, still in my apartment.

  I weigh all the variables—the desire I saw in his eyes, the heat in my body, the stern tone of his voice, his excitement about teasing me.

  This is a risk, but the upside is worth it.

  I hold Nick's gaze as I pull the zipper to my stomach. I shift the dress off one shoulder, then the other.

  His pupils dilate. "What are you doing?"

  "Getting comfortable." I go to push my dress off my hips.

  Nick grabs my arm and holds it tightly. "Don't."

  "Or?"

  "Listen to me."

  I press my hands against my sides. "About?"

  "Stop rushing into things. You're being foolish."

  "Fuck you." I shimmy out of my dress. It falls at my feet. "This is my apartment and I'll take off my fucking clothes if I want to."

  His eyes go wide. Something in his expression shifts. It's rougher. "Are you okay with me leaving?"

  "Yes."

  "You sure?"

  "Positive."

  Nick wraps his hands around my ass and holds my body against his. He takes two steps forward, pushing me into the wall.

  His lips press against my neck. My collarbone. My chin.

  I try to kiss him, but he turns his face so my lips make contact with his jawline.

  He tugs my bra off my shoulders, one strap at a time. My breasts press against the rough fabric of his suit. It's just enough friction to send a shiver down my spine.

  Dammit, he's good at this.

  I try to find the meaning in Nick's eyes, but it's not there. When he brings his fingertips to my nipples,
I stop caring where this is going. All I know is how badly I want him touching me.

  He can't leave. Not yet.

  Heat pools between my legs. I reach for Nick's hair, something to contain the sensation, but he pins my hands to the wall. It's as effortless as it was in the subway. He's much stronger than I am. He can overpower me without breaking a sweat.

  He can do whatever he wants to me.

  "Nick," I breathe. "What are you doing?"

  He responds by rolling my tights to my knees.

  Okay. I don't need conversation. I need him.

  His fingers graze the top of my panties.

  Yes. Almost.

  He pushes my thong aside and strokes me.

  My sex clenches. My body is on fire with need. I try to kiss him.

  With one hand, he holds my head in place. The other teases me.

  Almost.

  Almost.

  He slides one finger inside me.

  My body screams with need. Yes. Whatever he wants, yes, now.

  His lips press against my neck. My chest. My cheek. They're an inch from my lips, but they're not connecting.

  He's not kissing me.

  His thumb makes contact with my clit. I rock my hips to push him deeper.

  He rubs me.

  Almost. A few more strokes and I'm going to—

  Nick pulls his hand away.

  What?

  His eyes fix on mine. "Are you still okay with me leaving?"

  No. My exhale is heavy. The only thing I can feel is the tension in my core. How badly I need his hand. How badly I need to come.

  "Lizzy, I asked you a question. I expect an answer."

  "You already said that you're not—"

  "Put your hands on the desk."

  "Are you leaving?"

  "Now."

  I do.

  He runs his fingertips down my back. My legs shake when his fingertips skim my sex. It's almost enough. But not quite.

  "Keep your eyes on the wall." His voice is rough.

  I do. I can't see him, but I can feel the heat from his body, hear his breath.

  "Explain to me why you showed up at that hotel."

  "Because I want you to fuck me."

  "Do you think I'm that easily manipulated?"

  "It's not manipulation. You want this too. Or is that a flashlight in your pocket?"

  "Don't be smart. Not about this." He slides two fingers inside me. "What is more important to you—keeping your job or fucking me?"

  Our conversation fades to nothing. The only thing I know is how badly I need to come.

  He pulls his hand away. I gasp. My legs go slack. No. He can't stop.

  Nick grabs onto my hips. He repositions me. "I asked you a question. Answer it."

  I can't.

  His hand comes down hard on my ass. The smack of flesh on flesh echoes through the tiny room. My skin stings.

  "The job," I say.

  "Then what the fuck do you think you're doing baiting me?"

  He spanks me again. There's something sweet about the sting of pain. It pulls me into the moment. It reminds me that I'm alive.

  "Lizzy."

  "I don't know. It was an impulse. I've never wanted anyone enough to ignore my judgment before."

  He growls, his hand coming down hard on my ass. Harder than the last. It pushes all the way to the brink of tolerable pain.

  A groan escapes my lips.

  He presses his palm against me. "Right now, what do you want?"

  My sex clenches. My legs shake. My entire body is desperate for him.

  "You," I breathe.

  "How?" He teases my sex with his fingertip.

  I shift my hips, trying to push him deeper. "Inside of me. Fucking me. Screaming my name as you come."

  He pulls his hand away. Drags his fingertips over the flesh of my ass. "This is a punishment."

  "Yes."

  "You're not getting fucked."

  I bite my tongue.

  "You're going to bed dripping and desperate. And when you touch yourself tonight, you're going to think of me, and it's not going to be enough."

  It's impossible to breathe. My legs are shaking so hard, I'm sure I'm about to tip over.

  He pulls his hand away. "Get dressed."

  "What?"

  "Now." He steps aside.

  I pull my body upright, suddenly feeling much more exposed. "This is my apartment."

  "If you don't get dressed, I'm leaving."

  He's still hard.

  How can he be so calm when he's so fucking hard?

  My cheeks flush. I pull my tights up, push past him, and find my robe in the bathroom. I'm sure I look ridiculous with a fluffy purple robe and knee-high stiletto boots, but it's not an immediate concern.

  Nick's eyes are on me. His expression is harsh.

  I want him so badly I'm aching, and he's ready to leave. How is that possible?

  I cinch the robe's tie. "Is that enough?"

  "You'll need to compartmentalize at the office. Treat me the same way you'd treat David, Gabriel, or Jasmine."

  "And when we're not at the office?"

  "I want to fuck you, Lizzy, but only if you're ready to submit. You keep pushing me. I won't tolerate that."

  "What does that mean?"

  "You do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you don't want that—"

  "I do." I want it so fucking badly.

  His expression gets serious. "You can't tell anyone. Not your sister. Or your friends."

  It's difficult to concentrate on the conversation with the tension between my legs. But I can't admit it to him. Can't prove him right.

  He pulls his phone from his pocket and taps something. A moment later, my phone buzzes. It's a text. An address.

  "Meet me tomorrow night at eight," he says. "Wear that dress again."

  "You liked the zipper?"

  "Yes." His eyes bore into me. "I'll send a package in the morning. Wear that under your dress. Only that." He takes a step backwards.

  "You're leaving?"

  "Yes."

  "But we—"

  "Push me again, and you'll go to bed alone again."

  I bite my tongue so I won't object.

  He leans down and plants a kiss on my cheek. "When I see you tomorrow, I don't want to hear anything about Odyssey or the Haley project. You understand?"

  "Stop asking if I understand. It's patronizing. I can make terms too, and I'm not doing this if you keep treating me like a child. I know what I want. I want you."

  Something flares in his expression. Almost like he's impressed by how I'm standing my ground.

  I fold my arms over my chest. "Good night, Nick."

  "Good night." He turns and leaves.

  In the bathroom, I strip down to nothing and run the shower. The hot water does nothing to cool me down.

  I try, hard, to resist touching myself.

  But I can't.

  One hand presses against the tile wall. The other goes between my legs. With a few strokes, I'm there. My sex clenches and I come.

  It's not at all satisfying.

  All night, I toss and turn. I'm wound up, desperate for Nick to release me from this tension.

  What if he's right and I can't handle him? Our sex in the hotel was nothing compared to this. I've never submitted to anyone before.

  Can I really submit to Nick?

  I'm not at all rested when I wake. A long session of yoga fails to clear my head. A cold shower fails to temper the heat racing through me.

  I need him, need his hands on my skin, his voice in my ears, his body against mine.

  But there's so much at stake. My job, my future, my apartment—he can snap his fingers and destroy me.

  Sure enough, there's a package waiting for me at the front desk: a white clothing box adorned with a purple bow.

  Back in my apartment, with the door firmly locked, I force myself to unwrap the present as slowly as possible. Rolled inside purple tissue paper is a matching lingerie set�
��black thigh-high stockings, black garter belt, black thong.

  They're beautiful, but there's something strange about the thong. It's heavy. I play with the fabric until my fingers hit something hard—a bullet vibrator tucked into a fabric pouch.

  Only there's no way to turn it on.

  I bang on the toy for a full minute, but it stays off. It's not the smoothest move, but I have to know.

  I text Nick.

  Lizzy: How does it work?

  He responds with a picture message—his hand wrapped around a remote control.

  Holy shit.

  He wants me to wear this in public?

  My heartbeat picks up. Someone will know. Someone will see. Can I really risk that?

  The picture grabs my attention. His hands are so strong, so expert. I need them on me again.

  I need to submit to him.

  I need to be his.

  Even if it might destroy me.

  Chapter Nine

  The restaurant is on the top floor of a nondescript building, all the way at the end of the hall. The lighting is dim—ornate chandeliers and flickering candles.

  Nick is in a booth in the corner, his gaze turned towards the entrance.

  He motions come here as his eyes catch mine. I walk past the hostess stand. I take in none of my surroundings. I'm too fixed on his hands.

  One is around his glass of whiskey. The other is under the table, out of sight.

  I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the vibrator to suddenly turn on.

  It doesn't.

  He stands to greet me. One hand goes to my lower back. The other slides to the back of my head.

  My eyes flutter closed as he pulls me into a soft, slow kiss. It's the first kiss we've had since San Francisco, and it's every bit as good as it is in my memory.

  That hint of whiskey on his lips.

  And something else entirely Nick.

  Warmth spreads out from every place he touches—my back, my head, my lips—until it fills my entire torso.

  He releases the kiss and motions for me to sit.

  I nod a thank you as we slide into the booth.

  I cross and uncross my legs, willing the tension in my lower back to relax. He seems so calm, so in control.

  I'm all mixed up. My hands are shaky. My breath is uneven.

  Still, I manage to hold Nick's gaze. I have to figure out where I stand. "I have a few questions."

  He nods go on.

  "I'm assuming this relationship is monogamous."

  "Yes."

  "But what is it? Are we screwing around or—"