Bound to her Fake Fiancé Boss: A Fun Sexy Feel Good Billionaire Office Romance

by Hayson Manning

  I don’t know who moves first, but we are on each other. Our mouths crash together. I’m pulling the shirt from his body, ripping the buttons. I need access to his chiseled chest that I intend to memorize with my tongue. The buttons ping across the room while I work at his belt and have that sucker gone in seconds. His zipper is down, and I grasp his erection.

  “Jesus, Asia, what you do to me.” He groans, pulls off his briefs, then marches me to the bed where the towel is tugged off. He rakes his hand through his hair when he stares down at me. “Jesus, fuck.”

  Probably not something Jesus did, but not the time to debate the point. I stare hungrily at his erection and lick my lips. The Lovehoney has nothing on him.

  “What I’m going to do to you,” he grates out.

  Yes.

  “Get on the bed.”

  My knees liquefy, and I’m panting.

  I’m on the bed in seconds.

  “Open your legs.”

  My eyes are fixed on his. He’s a predator, and I’m his willing prey. My arousal is coating my upper thighs, and I squirm at the sensations flooding my system. His cock flexes as he fists it, and my eyes lock on the erotica in front of me. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My hand goes between my legs. I’m going to come in three, two…

  “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

  My hand is slapped away, a smirk on his face, but his eyes are dark storms waiting to unleash. I’ll let him be bossy for now because I like it coming from him. Scratch that, I love it coming from him.

  “I’m going to come on your pussy, then in your pussy. And this little thing?” He lifts the pleasurer where it has fallen on the bed. “Next time, this will be in your ass.”

  I moan and widen my legs. My nipples are tight, my breasts heavy and achy. I’m about to come from watching him stroke himself.

  He climbs onto the bed. His gaze rakes over my body before landing and staying between my legs.

  “Wider.” His voice is a hoarse whisper.

  My hands pull back my knees, completely exposing myself to him. I’ve never felt more exposed, fearless, and turned on in my life.

  “Are you protected? On the pill?”

  I nod. My Mirena IUD is firmly in place.

  His fist is speeding up, pumping his engorged cock. His face contorts, his back arches, pre-cum on the velvet head. He lets out a guttural cry as he comes on my pussy. The raw look on his face is beautiful. He reaches out and rubs his fluid into my skin in circles.

  Marking me.

  Branding me.

  “Don’t move.”

  As if I could.

  His mouth is on my aching breasts. I groan at the sensation of his hot mouth on my tight nipples. He takes his time lavishing his tongue on my breasts, and I’m a moaning, vibrating wreck. He grins at me as he makes his way down my body, kissing from my bellybutton down. His rough cheeks sandpaper my inner thighs, and he’s right where I need him to be—one inch from my clit.

  “Jason, please,” I beg. “I have to come.” I don’t recognize my voice. It’s rough, needy.

  “You will, baby.”

  His finger dips into my heated, wet folds. One finger eases into me. I groan and arch off the bed.

  “Love that you’re smooth.”

  I have a monthly appointment with my waxing girl I never miss.

  I can’t help it and buck against his mouth. One hand lands on my lower stomach and holds me anchored to the bed.

  He’s licking his cum off me, and I’m about to explode.

  He’s licking me like I’m an ice-cream, everywhere except the one place I need him the most.

  “Patience,” he whispers.

  I have none. I’m splintering before his eyes. Blood is pulsing in my veins, and I’m being cooked from the inside out. Spots are forming before my eyes, and just when I think I can handle no more, he sucks my clit deep into his mouth.

  I am flying and falling into an abyss of sensation.

  My back arches off the bed, my spine jerking while my orgasm wrecks me. His tongue is still sampling me. It’s too much. The pressure of his tongue on my clit is relentless.

  “I can’t,” I gasp. I’m struggling to get away or give in.

  “You can, and you will. You’re so fucking wet, hot, and gorgeous I’m going to come just drinking you.”

  He pushes one finger into me while his tongue lashes me. Another finger eases in.

  “Let go,” he whispers.

  I don’t know if it’s his words, the way he possesses me, or I have now discovered being bossed around turns me on, but I come hard. My head snaps back, I can’t see, and I’m a boneless, shuddering mess. I vaguely hear the rip of foil.

  I open my eyes, minutes, hours, or days later to find Jason between my legs, sheathed.

  “Fuck you’re hot when you come.” His gaze holds mine while nudging my entrance, and I buck up to meet him.

  He eases into me. He’s way bigger than the vibrator. Thicker, longer, and most definitely not made of silicone. My hands fist the bedcover when he bottoms out then thrusts. His mouth is on mine.

  “I taste myself and you,” I say, pressing my fingers to my lips.

  “Tastes fucking amazing.” He smirks, then thrusts again.

  “Yeah, it does.” The bittersweet taste of him mixed with my own citrus saltiness is captivating.

  His eyes darken, and he thrusts deeper.

  “The things I’m going to do to you.”

  Thrust.

  “The things I’m going to do to you,” I whisper.

  “Yeah?” He quirks a brow. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

  Now I smirk. “When you come next, the vibrator will be in your ass.”

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  I’m a sweaty mess, and I don’t care. He’s hitting a spot I didn’t know existed. I’m building again, my muscles tightening, my bones melting, my body building to bliss. I arch off the bed in a whisper, a scream, or say nothing, I have no idea. I hold on for dear life as he thrusts deep, shuddering into my body on a groan.

  We lay like animals panting, sweating, locked in primal mating. My heart is about to burst, and my lungs demand more oxygen. He kisses me. Devouring me as our tongues clash, our teeth gnash, our breaths mingle. I breathe him in and hold him deep in my lungs. He brings one hand up to smooth back my tangle of hair. He breaks the kiss and gazes down at me. There’s wonder and an emotion I can’t name in the inky depths of his irises. Little frown lines appear on his forehead. It’s like he’s trying to decipher a complex algorithm and can’t figure it out.

  He leaves my body and walks to the bathroom, condom in hand. The loss of heat is like an icy bucket of water being thrown on me, and reality comes crashing back.

  I just had the best sex of my life with my boss.

  I can deny it no longer. Complicated emotions are stealing into me when I look at Jason. I’m starting to feel a bit lightheaded. I love being trapped in his arms. The way he kisses me makes my heart swoon.

  I’m falling for my bossy, broody boss.

  What the hell have I done and become?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jason

  “Good, you’re awake.” I walk into the room carrying two cups of coffee. Asia isn’t awake; she’s burrowed into the bedding, her mass of dark hair spread over the pillow.

  I’m fucked, and I’ve fucked up royally. Last night? Jesus. The best sex I’ve ever had with the one woman on the planet I said I would not have sex with. But we did, and it was amazing, just like the woman herself. After I returned from the bathroom last night, Asia had faked being asleep, and I got it. I think what happened took us both by surprise. One minute she was walking toward the bathroom holding a vibrator, the next minute I had my face between her legs tasting sweet nectar before three orgasms had been coaxed from her tight, curvy body. The look on her face when she comes? I’m hard just recalling it. I woke with her in my arms and not having a nightmare again. At five
this morning, I hit the gym trying to figure out what the hell to do, which leads me to place a coffee on my assistant’s night table.

  “It’s too early,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s never too early for business. Rise and shine.” I itch to not reach out and fist her hair, imprint my lips on hers before I take her from behind.

  She opens a hazel eye and regards me warily.

  I take a sip of my triple espresso. “I’ve amended our contract to reflect what happened between us is not connected to the money I’m paying you.”

  I hope she didn’t feel like she had to sleep with me to keep her position. This, along with other tortured thoughts, has been bothering me.

  As crazy as this situation is, I need her in my life On a professional level, she is a dream assistant, and if I’m sucking back laughing gas, I enjoy having her around. She’s snappy, funny, feisty, and occasionally makes me look forward to getting out of bed.

  She sits up, and the blanket falls. I close my eyes at the sight of a perfect hand and mouthful of breast.

  Jesus.

  I open my eyes to find her staring at me, the blanket tucked under her armpits.

  “Don’t you want to talk about what happened last night?” she asks, sipping the caramel excuse of a coffee I drove into town to get earlier.

  “Nothing to talk about. We had sex. I think we both agree it was a mistake.”

  Biggest mistake of my life. I’ve left myself open to lawsuits. I drag a hand through my hair. It was the best night of my life.

  “I see,” she says quietly, putting down the coffee. “So, nothing has changed for you? We’re just going to play house for our time here.”

  I frown. “But that’s all we were ever doing. The point being to make the ten days for our end goals.” I tick off why we could never be together. “We’re different people with different end goals. You want the house, the people mover, the shaggy dog. I do not and never will. I’m happiest when I’m alone, you’re happy when you’re surrounded by people.”

  While Asia slept, I’d gone through her stuff and found the book with dress designs on the front and the contract we signed inside. Now, I know shit about dresses and less about designing, but I thought they looked amazing. A surge of pride for my assistant socks me in the chest. I hold out the book with the amended contract. I don’t want Asia to feel like I’ve used her. I hold out a pen and hold and hold.

  I sigh. “I don’t want you feeling like I’m paying you for sex, and I’m sorry, but last night was a colossal mistake. I don’t want you reading more into it than it was. If I could take it back, I would.”

  I wouldn’t, of course. It’s going to be on high rotation in my head for many a long night.

  Her eyes narrow. “You don’t want me reading more into it?” She takes the contract and reads it. “You mean you don’t want you reading more into it. Worried about having feelings, Jason?” She now stands with her hands on her hips, naked and quivering with rage, and she is magnificent. And naked. Her eyes spit gold chips at me. God, I want her.

  “What do you mean I have to commit to staying on as your assistant for three months after we return to California?” She waves the book at me, grabs the sheet from the bed and wraps it around herself.

  “A precaution that you won’t run off and leave me stranded.”

  She stares me down.

  “In a purely professional capacity,” I clarify.

  This is insane. I don’t want her in my life, but I do. I need to book psychiatric help.

  She studies me until I squirm. “I get it now.”

  I take the bait. “Get what?”

  “Why you only do three-week relationships. Why you break it off. It’s not that you’re afraid they’ll get attached, it’s that you’re too afraid you’ll get attached.”

  “I’m calling bullshit,” I scoff.

  “Makes sense.” She nods to herself.

  Nothing about this makes sense, but that comment belongs in a Dear Abby column.

  She takes the contract and scribbles on it. “I agree to the three months, and I will leave on my terms.”

  “After you’ve found a suitable replacement.”

  She takes the contract and adds more scribbles. “When I leave I’ll find you an outstanding replacement, and I reiterate, I will leave on my terms.”

  Fair enough. I’ll make it so she doesn’t want to leave. If I have to shower her in money I will, it is after all the Johnson way.

  I smile, but a part of me wants her to stay because she wants to.

  My eyes roam over her body, and I’m so hard I’ll have to rub one out. A fantasy plays in my head of her watching while I do.

  “Fear not. I will not be the one getting attached or having feelings.” She pokes me in the chest, then walks to the bathroom and slams the door, my gaze never leaving her hips or the toned, lush ass I bit last night. My left butt cheek still stings with teeth marks. She branded me after I branded her.

  I pull a hand through my hair.

  This is where it all goes south with women.

  This is where it gets complicated and awkward, and it’s not you, it’s me. And it really is me.

  I have to put up barriers, so I do what I usually do and throw myself into work. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to get her out of my mind. I can’t have her until the barriers are up because I’m not logical when her scent invades my senses. Now I know how it feels to be inside her, the taste of her, moaning my name, nails digging into my shoulders, my ass, I have to get my walls back up. She’s broken down a barrier that’s never been broken before and fuck if I know what to do about it. It’s time I remember my goal and get the house and get the fuck away from here.

  “You have the next two days off. I’ve got a lot to do. Think of it as a paid vacation.”

  She growls through the door, and there’s a thud as something lands against a wall. If I were in there, it would probably be my head.

  I glance at myself in the mirror and pull off the blue T-shirt I mistakenly put on this morning, much to the delight of my grandmother, who beamed and patted my arm.

  Back to black.

  As it should and always will be.

  I catch glimpses of Asia throughout the day. Chatting with Angus, then a shriek of laughter as she buzzes around on a ride-on mower. Yes, I’m at the window, silently stalking her. She missed lunch, even though I texted her but got no reply. I did receive one text from her:

  Your horoscope for today should you choose to accept it.

  You’re going to be busy playing by yourself today, tomorrow, and for the rest of your life. Good for you. Here’s a quick glimpse of your future. A picture of a lone wolf howling into the wind pops up.

  Song of the day: Alone Again, Naturally.

  I click on the link to the lyrics and roll my eyes.

  When will she get it through her skull I’m not lonely? I like my own company. My boarding school buds vacation together when schedules permit. Back in our teens I used to vacation with Tristan and Zan, but never Brayden Gillard. Their bitterly divorced parents supplied plane tickets to wherever we wanted with no supervision. We did things that should have had us jailed.

  I send Asia a text saying I’m not lonely and ask about a file. More radio silence. She’s probably blocked me. I’m trying so hard to concentrate on a spreadsheet written in an alien language for all the sense it makes. I don’t notice my grandmother has entered the room until she lays a hand on my shoulder, and I nearly make it to the moon.

  “Asia’s good for you. She’s feisty, funny, and full of affection.” She peers at me. “Is there something wrong between you and Asia?”

  I huff out a breath. “No. A misunderstanding. She’ll come around.”

  Gran looks thoughtful. “I didn’t have a good marriage. It took me a long time to realize Howard married me for my money, as my parents always said. When I couldn’t take the affairs anymore, I divorced him with a settlement, and Sonya and I never heard from him
again. However, I do think it takes two to right a misunderstanding.” She squeezes my shoulder.

  That’s quite the speech and affection from my grandmother.

  “I’m sad you’re back to wearing black. I thought there might have been a breakthrough.”

  “A breakthrough?” I glance down at my black jeans and black long-sleeved T-shirt.

  My grandmother’s lips tremble. “I did you a grave disservice back then. I should never have shipped you off to boarding school days after the tragedy. You were a little boy.” She wrings her hands. “I thought it was for the best you were away from the misery, the wretched pain, the loss.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “I’m good. Honestly, I’m fine.”

  She takes a shuddering breath. “You are not good, Jason. You are far from good.”

  She’s starting to alarm me. “Cynthia, I’m fine.”

  She flinches when I say her name.

  “Are you really ready to settle down? Have you visited your old bedroom, visited where James and your mother’s ashes are scattered?”

  Now it’s my turn to flinch. “It’s on the list of things to do,” I say through gritted teeth. That’s a big fucking no to those three questions.

  She studies me until I’m trying really freaking hard to hold her stare. “You’ve been locked in a tomb of black ever since. This is my fault.” My grandmother gazes at me, her brown eyes shimmering. “I should have insisted you come home every summer instead of hanging with your boarding school friends. I should have let you say goodbye. I should have done everything differently. You’d lost your brother, and I lost my daughter, and my grandson, and your father left the same day. It was too much. I shut down.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “It was a very dark time in my life, and I failed you, Jason. I’m deeply sorry.”

  I blink. This is the most we’ve ever talked about it since the fateful day that changed all our lives. My gut clenches.

  Memories assail me. Mom kissing me goodnight, wrapped in a soft Chanel scent, is a bullet to my chest. James and his mischievous grin, his sunshine personality, always being upbeat to my shyness—he included me in everything, even when he didn’t want to.