Bossy Nights

by Liv Morris

  And how did his stubble get even sexier on the ride over to the hotel?

  “Hi,” I breathe, and it takes quite the effort just to push that one syllable through my lips.

  I stand there, staring up at him, holding the door, not fully open. Basically, he can’t maneuver around me. There’s not enough space.

  “Can I come in?” he asks, flashing me a devastating smirk. It’d likely work as a passkey to any woman’s room, and I think he knows it too.

  “Well, there’s a problem …” I pause, and he raises his brow. “It’s my mother.”

  “Is she here?” He tries to peek around me into the room, but I pull the door tighter toward me.

  “Actually, she’s on the phone. Waiting.” I hold an index finger up to my lips, and his mouth forms a sexy O.

  “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” he whispers, crossing his hand over his heart.

  “Okay, but please, not a word,” I admonish, opening the door wide enough for him to enter.

  Barclay tiptoes into the room. It’s not a common display for six-foot-something publishing moguls, and I cover my mouth when laughter bubbles up. He lets his fingers linger over the pink satin on the bed and glances at me with dark eyes. I shake my head at him and mouth, “Later.” He pouts like a little child being told no, which I don’t have time for. I push him past the bed, and he sulks over to the window area, sitting down in an upholstered chair paired with a side table.

  Giving me the universal finger drag across his mouth, meaning his lips are zipped, I pick up the receiver before my mother calls the front desk asking them to check on me—or worse, tells Miles something’s wrong. I sure don’t need the police showing up here two nights in a row.

  “Sorry, Mother. There was someone from the hotel at the door.” Barclay does own the hotel, but I’m stretching the truth, which equals a white lie.

  Lying is something I don’t do with her—or anyone, for that matter. The only time I feel justified in doing so would be to protect someone’s feelings. Honestly, I’m doing something similar now, since my lies will keep her from worrying when I know everything is fine with me. I glance at Barclay, who’s smiling deviously. Things are crazy, out-of-my-mind fine.

  “You seem out of breath and flustered, Tessa. What did they want?” she asks.

  Barclay picks up a book I have sitting on the side table next to him. I forgot all about it in the rush to clean up the room. Big mistake too. He glances down at the cover and looks up at me with a pointed stare that quickly turns into the devil’s smile.

  He holds the book up for me to see, as if I have no clue what it is, and nods his head approvingly. Opening the book up to the first dog-eared page, he waggles his brows. I have no idea which page it is, but I can only imagine since it’s The 365 Days, 365 Positions Handbook.

  How do I ever recover from this one?

  I look away from the sexy smile lighting up Barclay’s face as he peruses the book. He keeps peering up at me from the pages and either shaking or nodding his head. A flush spreads across my cheeks. I want to put my mother on hold and rip the book from his hands, but I wonder if he’d let me. He seems to be enjoying it too much.

  “Uh, it’s uh … it’s someone from the hotel doing a nightly turndown service.” Another white lie, laced with some truth, because I believe Barclay and I will be under the sheets, or at least on top of them, soon.

  “Imagine that. Southern hospitality in a big city like New York.” I exhale in relief, but breathe in a lungful of guilt.

  I never hide things from my mother. I even told her about the guys pressuring me to have sex in college, knowing they just wanted to claim me as a virginal prize.

  “I need to go,” I say, more rushed than I should, but Barclay has set down the book and the look in his eyes makes me squirm. It’s like he’s a tiger ready to pounce … on me.

  “Remember, you promised your grandmother you’d light a candle for your grandfather at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral tomorrow.”

  “I’ll go to the ten-fifteen service. The choir sings then.”

  As we hang up, I can’t dismiss how insane it is that I’m discussing church services while sexy lingerie sits on the bed close to the man who may cash in my V-card. But I’m ready … I think—or more like I should just do it and not think about it. Actually, I’m a freaking emotional mess.

  31

  Tessa

  “My family keeps interrupting us.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, I place the receiver in its cradle, exhaling a big sigh. “They mean well, though.”

  “It was messing with my conscience, but I’m over that after thumbing through your latest read.” Barclay places my sex handbook back down on the table and tilts his head to the side. He gives me a quizzical look, and a flicker of a smile passes over his face. “Did you find that book at the Monroeville Library?”

  “Ha. Ha.” I fake a laugh at the thought of this book on any shelf in my hometown. I’ve hidden it under my bed since I returned back home from graduating college and snuck it into my suitcase. “My best friend Maggie gave it to me for research purposes. Besides, my mother’s the town librarian. If she put something like that on the shelves, it would be her last day working there.”

  “Well, your eagerness completely disarms me, but there’s so much more you need to experience before you get to those positions. Foreplay for one, and the kind I’m talking about isn’t something you can learn from the pages of a book. It takes practice.”

  Barclay licks his lips and trails his eyes over my body, making me shift. His smoldering stare awakens an unfamiliar feeling low in my belly. If anyone else gave me this kind of look in the confines of a hotel room, I would run out the door, screaming for help. With Barclay, I want to fling myself into his arms and get lost in his kisses and touch.

  “I can’t stop thinking about the things I want to do to you, Tessa. It would blow your sweet mind. What do you want? Tell me,” he gravels in a husky voice.

  “I want you, Barclay. Show me all the things. Please,” I beg, like a starving pauper who hasn’t had a meal in days.

  Barclay pushes up from the chair, standing tall and stately, adorned in formal attire. His large presence overwhelms the room—and me. My body hums in a delicate balance of nerves and need. Hiding my silly fear, I fold my trembling hands in my lap while my heart races away. I thought I’d be braver than this when the time came to be with someone, but I’m scared shitless.

  He takes off his black tuxedo jacket, revealing a fitted dress shirt that sinfully molds to his sculpted muscles. I swallow hard and lick my lips. After carefully laying his jacket down on the chair, he stalks toward me in a couple long strides.

  When Barclay stops in front of me, I lift my chin to gaze up at his handsome face. A cocky smile pulls at the corner of his lips. Watching in heated anticipation, his long fingers tug at his black bowtie, releasing the knot and letting the loose ends lie against his crisp white shirt. Next, he frees the gold cuff links from his starched cuffed sleeves, placing them down on the nightstand with a clink. When he untucks the shirttails from his black pants, I realize he’s undressing himself. In. My. Room.

  Does he want me to do the same thing?

  “Where has the young woman who reads scandalous books gone? You’re all wide-eyed and timid now.” Barclay gently brushes my cheek with his finger, and I lean into his reassuring touch. “Your mind’s spinning away behind those gorgeous blue eyes.”

  “The truth is …” I pause, and glance away, trying to build up the courage to speak what’s in my heart. After a beat, I return to his darkened gaze once again. “I’ve been waiting for years to have a moment like this, yet I have no idea what to do or what you want. I thought reading books like that would make me brave, but I didn’t even change into the lingerie you bought me. Basically, I have no game. I must be a big disappointment.”

  “Sweet, beautiful girl.” Barclay sits down beside me on the bed, taking my hand in his large one. “Take a deep breath and trust me. Can you d
o that?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will.” I fill my lungs and exhale slowly, feeling more relaxed already. He nods in approval.

  “Unbutton my shirt, Tessa.” His lips brush over my knuckles in the sweetest touch before he releases them.

  After another deep breath and an internal pep talk, my fumbling fingers move from button to button, undoing them. Finally, the edges of his shirt are open wide, revealing defined ridges and golden skin. He’s all man and muscle, and more gorgeous than I could have imagined.

  Barclay encircles one of my hands and lays it against his chest over his heart. He’s warm and solid. I feel the steady beat under my palm.

  In tentative motions, I rub my fingers over the manly scattering of hair that starts just above his breastbone. It narrows down in a straight line, disappearing under the waistband of his pants. His breathing picks up, and he utters a soft moan, making me emboldened knowing my touch is having an effect on him. I look up into his hooded gaze.

  “There’s something I’ve been dying to do all night.” He sweeps my hair to the side, and with a ghost of a touch, kisses along the top of my shoulder, trailing to the back of my neck. I can’t stop from shivering as my skin ignites with goose bumps. His lips graze the area behind my ear as his fingers toy with the hook of my halter strap. “May I undo your dress?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, holding a breath. I have nothing on underneath except delicate silk lace panties, so I’ll be exposed with one flick of his wrist.

  When he releases the hook, gravity pulls my dress downward. I try to catch it before it falls, but Barclay encircles my wrists, stopping them midair. I feel the dress fall into my lap and close my eyes tightly, hiding myself away.

  “Be brave, sweet girl, and open your eyes,” he says, trying to soothe away my fears. “You’re beautiful. Perfect.”

  I peek through my lashes to find him drinking in every inch of me, from my lips to my hard nipples. When our eyes meet, his heated gaze helps to melt away my worries. I can tell he wants me, desires me, and most importantly, understands me in this moment. He’s the perfect man to help me push past my insecurities.

  “Thanks for being so patient with me. I want this. Us,” I confess, gesturing between us.

  “Tonight, we’ll get to know each other’s bodies.” He drags a lone finger down my spine, and I sigh. “Put the thought of sex out of your mind for now. Relax and enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

  “I can do that.” The idea of becoming comfortable with him touching me, and me touching him, takes the pressure off performing or understanding something I have yet to experience.

  “Have you been with an undressed man before?” he asks me. I shake my head. “Well, that’s a good place to start.”

  He stands up next to me and takes off his shirt, then follows with his shoes, pants, and socks. My heart stops. The only things left are skintight black boxer briefs and a sexy smirk.

  Jesus help me, I can’t seem to catch my breath. Glancing over him, I try not to stare too long on that one spot, but it’s no use. He’s hard and huge, barely contained in his underwear. Mercy, it’s the first time I’ve seen a penis up close and in person. I want to reach out and touch it. Give it a stroke with my fingers and see if it’s real. Instead, I look up at him, sinking my teeth into my lower lip until it hurts. The pain lets me know I’m not dreaming. Barclay and his large member are real.

  32

  Barclay

  “Lay your head on the pillows,” I command, and Tessa obeys in quick measure. Her hair billows around her face, shimmering in the dim lights.

  She lies on the bed like an ethereal goddess—the kind men fought wars over, killed, and died for. Yet she doesn’t have a clue what she does to me, how I’d love to fully claim her like a chest-pounding Viking until she moans my name.

  I push those thoughts aside and climb up next to her on the bed, easing the pink dress down her slender legs, then tossing it to the floor. Tessa gazes up at me shyly, like she’s asking me if I approve of what I see. Hell yes I do.

  Blond hair of an angel, and a body so sinful, even the devil would blush. Long toned legs, curved hips leading to a small waist, full breasts with a shade of pink that matches her pouty lips.

  “You’re perfection,” I say with a sense of awe. She exhales the breath she’s holding and smiles back at me. What’s happening between us is brand new for her, and my encouragement builds her confidence.

  I glance down at the miniscule lace between her legs. It’s a sheer veil letting me see enough to know she’s bare underneath. It’s not what I expected from a virgin, but neither was the sex handbook.

  Positioned at the end of the bed, I wrap my hands around her slim calves. Gently parting her legs, I place one on each side of me, making her open and vulnerable to me. Her panties are wet at the center, and I lick my lips, imagining her sweet taste.

  In slow brushes, I caress the inside of her calves, testing the waters for a reaction. She squirms under my fingertips and gazes up at me with pleading eyes.

  “You like that?” I ask with a smirk, knowing full well she’s going out of her mind with anticipation.

  “Please, don’t stop,” she begs, holding the white bedding tight in her fists.

  I continue a path up the inside of her thighs, across the silky lace, until I have the weight of her breasts in my hands. They’re firm, full, and real, her nipples peaked, ready for my touch. My thumbs pass over the tight center in a quick back and forth graze. She hums in appreciation.

  “Please, Barclay. Please.” I glance up to find her eyes closed, and her face twisted somewhere between pleasure and pain. Basically, she’s a needy mess, and I love it.

  “Look at me, Tessa.” Her lashes flutter until she gazes up at me, her baby blues clouded with desire. “What do you want?”

  “More. I need more.”

  “Do you need me to take care of that ache?” My hands slide down her side, toying with the lace of her panties.

  “Yes, please,” she breathes.

  Lowering my body between her thighs, I press my boxer-clad erection against her sex. After a deep breath, I begin to swivel my hips as I thrust forward. Tessa presses herself against me, giving us both more friction. She’s so wet and slick.

  I smile down at her, and she answers me back with a lazy grin. Ready to give her even more, I take a nipple into my mouth, flick it for a while with my tongue, then suck it between my lips. She grabs on to my back for dear life and lets out the sweetest moan.

  “Oh my God,” Tessa cries, arching her back, then weaving her fingers through my hair. “I had no idea it could be like this. Everything you’re doing is magical.” I hold off a laugh and smile, loving her innocent dirty talk.

  “No one’s ever told me I’m magical before,” I whisper in her ear. “Thanks.”

  “You are. Do that flicking thing with your tongue again.” This time, I chuckle, because that tongue move is nothing compared to the one I’d like to do somewhere else.

  “So bossy,” I tsk.

  Unexpectedly, she wraps her legs tight around my waist, and I realize we’ve gone past the taking-it-slow-part straight into teenage dry humping, and I’m all game. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I came in my boxers, maybe junior year at boarding school.

  In all fairness to Tessa, she missed this rite of passage, and needs one full-fledged dry hump before she experiences the real thing. It’s kind of like warming up in the batter’s box. After a good practice swing, she’ll be ready to take the real pitch.

  “Put your hands over your head.” She lifts her arms up and lies them on top of the pillows, causing her breasts to press up into me. Pouty lips and perky boobs—her body’s a wet dream centerfold.

  Moving my hand up, I grasp both of hers in mine and press them into the pillows.

  “Okay with that?” I ask, looking into her eyes. She nods and bites her lip tentatively, yet wants more.

  Needing to feel even more of her, I wrap my free arm under her knee and place h
er leg in the crook of my elbow. Adjusting to the new position, I start to push and thrust forward harder, keeping the spin of my hips.

  “Oh my God,” she mutters after a few passes, her eyes closed so snug, I can hardly make out anything but her long lashes. “I’m going to die.”

  Me too. “Oh, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

  I thrust, swivel, push on repeat, feeling my own orgasm begin to claw at me. I suck her nipple into my mouth and bite down on it harder than before. Her legs begin to shake, and I don’t let up one damn bit.

  “Ohmyohmyohmy. Ahhhhh,” she mumbles, chasing her orgasm until she starts to relax in my arms.

  When she looks up at me in complete bliss, something unspoken passes between us. It’s deep, definitely beyond the moment of lust, and like nothing I’ve ever experienced before with a woman. And it’s her breathy sounds, and the scent of her sex floating in the air, that push me over a cliff like I’m free-falling.

  “Fuck,” I call out in a long, loud groan after a couple more thrusts, squeezing my eyes shut. I collapse beside Tessa and try to catch my breath.

  Holy shit. What the hell was that?

  I wasn’t even inside her. I open my eyes to find Tessa staring right back at me, searching my face. She’s so beautiful in her sweet afterglow. I give her a reassuring smile and kiss the tip of her nose. Her eyes fill with happiness.

  “Jesus, Tessa,” I pant. “That wasn’t your first time, was it?”

  “Well, I thought I’d had one before, but now I’m not so sure.” She stretches her body out on the bed and gives me a satisfied smile. “That was mind-blowing, out of this world, and beyond anything I ever could’ve imagined. Can we do it again, please?” She pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes as if I need convincing.

  “Absolutely. I plan on keeping you around. You’re great for my ego.” I trail my hand down her neck and over her breasts.