The Boss's Daughter

by Jasmine Haynes

  Bitch.

  She enjoyed making him watch, holding him at bay, doing anyone and everyone before she gave him what he wanted.

  There was something wrong with how damn alive all his frazzled emotions made him feel. He could feel the tension buzzing right down to his toes as she turned and walked away, her hand looped through the man’s arm.

  He could have gotten up then, followed her, stopped her. He could have gone to his car and driven away. But he sat on his barstool and drank his beer. Then he ordered another. He’d started his mental stopwatch the moment she was out of sight. Thirty minutes. Not twenty-nine, not thirty-one, but thirty exactly. Then he was supposed to go up to the room number she’d texted him. She’d left a key for him at the front desk. The clerk had handed it over, probably thinking they were married. Or just fuck buddies. They were something completely different. He just didn’t know what.

  The minutes ticked by. The noise gave him a headache. Seated at nearby table with three of her friends, a pretty blonde woman smiled an invitation to him. When they were traveling, it was always Spence who received those smiles, not him, the nerdy guy with the glasses. He had, in fact, enjoyed watching Spence work on women. Watching. It had never occurred to him, but that’s what he did best. He sat back and watched as his friend walked away with his wife. Now, he was watching Cassandra.

  Tick, tick, tick. His inner alarm clock went off. It was time. He paid for his beers, left a tip, passed the table of women on his way out. He imagined she gave him a longing look. Or maybe it wasn’t imagination. He radiated something sexual that she’d picked up on.

  The lobby traffic had thinned out. Elegantly dressed couples headed out to the taxi line. Perhaps they were going to a show in the city. If so, they should have stayed up there, except that the price of a hotel room in the city was astronomical.

  He stood for a couple of minutes at the bank of elevators before one came. There were a greater number of people exiting the car than getting on, and by the eleventh floor, he was alone.

  He could feel his heart beating in his chest and his blood flowing through his veins. She’d choreographed everything up to the moment he stuck the card key in the door. After that, he was on his own. Whatever he wanted.

  The carpet was plush and didn’t make a sound beneath his shoes. The card key slipped into the slot soundlessly. The light flashed green. The well-oiled handle didn’t squeak as he pushed it down and opened the door.

  The lights were off, the curtains open, and the room bathed in a prisms of light from the surrounding hotels and the airport runways. He closed the door as silently as he’d opened it. Then he heard the soft friction of bodies coming together. A woman’s moan. A man’s labored breath. She said something, he couldn’t hear what, then she laughed.

  He passed the closet and the bathroom. Ahead lay the bureau, TV, and desk. And to the left stood the bed.

  Chapter Nine

  Despite the lack of lights in the room, he could see the tableau clearly. She was splayed across the bed, Mr. Joe Average between her legs. Her hair lay in a wild tangle across the pillow. The dress had been tossed to the floor, but she still wore the bra, her breasts bobbing as her partner in crime thrust into her. Her face somehow seemed to have a glow all its own. The woman loved sex, she was made for it, her body screaming out her sexual desire.

  Ward heard the call. He wanted to plunge deep inside her, watch the dance of pleasure across her features. He had yet to be that close. In the car Tuesday night, the mirror had distanced the spectacle. When she’d sucked his cock, he could no longer grasp the concept of watching; there’d been only the exquisite touch of her mouth, the lick of her tongue, and the grip of her hot hand around him.

  He wanted to be close. Craved it. Yet he watched, the way she wanted him to.

  Joe Average was upright, Cassandra’s legs draped over his thighs as he pounded relentlessly, his buttocks clenching, releasing. Her vibrator between her legs, she gave herself the extra kick.

  “God, God, God,” Joe panted. “Squeeze me with that pretty cunt, baby.”

  The word jolted Ward—it wasn’t one he used with a lady—but Cassandra merely mewled. Then she braced one hand on the headboard and bore down on the guy’s cock. The slap of their flesh, the whine of the vibrator, the pants and groans and dirty words made a sexual symphony.

  He wanted it for himself, wanted to feel her heat, needed to know the intimate clench of her body around him. He wanted it so goddamn badly, it was hard to breathe. The room was a fog of sex, perspiration, and the same mango scent he’d smelled in the house that first day.

  Her legs began to shudder. She pointed and flexed her toes. Then a cry rose from her throat. Her eyes tightly shut, she rolled up, clenched Joe’s arm with red-tipped fingernails, and gave in to a full-body quake, rocking with him, her moans matching his grunts.

  “Oh God, baby, yeah, baby, squeeze me with that fucking cunt. Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  She seemed to come endlessly, even after Joe lost his rhythm and slumped. Finally she flopped back against the pillow, tossed the vibrator aside, and laughed. “Holy mama,” she said on a final gasp. “That was good, but you were supposed to come on me, not inside.”

  That did it. Another man had made her come with such ferocity, and she wanted to take his come all over her. Ward was blind with jealousy. And fucking-amazingly hard.

  He took two stomping steps fully into the room. Her eyes opened. Joe’s head turned. Cassandra smiled. Joe couldn’t do much more than gape.

  Ward pointed a finger at his head. Joe jerked as if it was a gun.

  “Don’t you ever fucking call my wife a cunt.”

  “I—it—ah—” Joe stammered, then stopped, stared. “Your wife?”

  “Mine,” he enunciated harshly. “Now get your cock out of her before I cut it off.”

  Joe was still staring. Ward took a threatening step, reaching into his jacket pocket at the same time. Joe finally reacted, pulling out, almost flying off the bed. Ward picked up the clothes strewn across the carpet and threw them at him. Joe caught his pants, but dropped the shirt. He began to struggle into them, hopping on one foot.

  “Out.” Ward pointed. “Now. You can put your clothes on in the hall.”

  “But—” Joe’s eyes were wide like a terrified rabbit. His dick, still dressed in the condom, hung flaccid.

  Ward waggled his fingers in his pocket.

  And Joe ran, naked, dick flapping. Yanking on the door handle, he darted through and let it slam loudly behind him. On the bed, Cassandra curled into a ball, her body shaking with her laughter.

  “You think this is funny?” Ward snarled.

  “Hilarious.”

  He tossed his glasses on the side table, then grabbed her by the arms, stretched her onto her back, and used his superior weight and strength to pin her to the bed.

  “I don’t think you’ll find this so goddamn funny.” Holding her wrists in one hand, he levered far enough off her body to tug at his belt and zipper.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She tried to kick him, but he held her down.

  “What you’ve been driving me to.”

  “Get off me.”

  He didn’t need light to see the flush of her cheeks. With harsh breaths, he drew in the scent of her sex. As he fumbled at his pants, he felt the moisture of her pussy. She was wet and ready. He was too crazy hard to stop. And she didn’t want him to.

  Without much effort, he shoved her legs apart and fell between them.

  “Don’t you dare.” Her eyes crackled with fire.

  His cock in his hand, he held still one long moment. “Tell me to stop.”

  She glared at him, but she didn’t open her mouth.

  “I’m not wearing a condom. Tell me not to do it.”

  She clenched her teeth. Her nostrils flared.

  “I’m clean, but that doesn’t matter. You should make me stop.”

  She still didn’t say a word.

  Ward penetrated her with one h
ard thrust. “Oh fuck,” he said on the last breath in his body.

  She was all heat and mobile muscle. Clamping around him, taking him, owning him. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her.

  “Fuck me, you little worm,” she whispered.

  He almost laughed, but his brain wasn’t functioning properly, and all that came out was a grunt. Then his body began to move on its own, pulling out, pounding deep. Beneath him, Cassandra moaned. He took her again. She spread her legs wider, hooked her ankles at his waist, and clenched her fingers on his butt cheeks. He didn’t remember letting go of her wrists.

  “Fuck me, you wimp.”

  The names drew him deeper, forced him to a faster, harder, sweeter pace. He wanted to feel her flesh, but he hadn’t removed a single piece of clothing. He was still wearing his dress shoes.

  She shoved her head back into the pillow, opened her mouth, and wailed her pleasure. He told himself it was just fucking, just bodies coming together, but he felt her inside him instead of the other way around. She possessed him. She dragged him deeper as if she were a sorceress with magical powers to enslave him.

  The climax didn’t build. It was simply there, crashing over him, stealing his sanity. Then his soul. He filled her with everything he had, pumping long and achingly. It was so fucking good it almost hurt. Yet she wasn’t done with him. When he thought he had nothing left, her body milked him, forced another shudder, another deep gush of semen inside her.

  When he thought he’d died, was nothing more than a hollow husk, she pushed at his shoulders, forced him out, down.

  “Lick me,” she demanded. “Now. Right now.”

  Somehow he was between her legs, her pussy glistening, her clit plump and beckoning. Ward devoured her, licking, sucking, swirling the little nub. He buried his tongue in her channel and tasted his come, sucked it from her, drank it for her, licked her clean. From somewhere far away, he heard her cry out his name, a strangled, guttural sound, and he stabbed his tongue just below her clit. He wasn’t sure if he’d simply missed the mark or some universal knowledge overtook him, but he hit her just right, and she flew apart, clamping her legs tight around his ears, pulling his hair, bucking. Her every shudder and shake shimmied through his body, turned him hot and hard again. He shoved two hands beneath her butt and held her, sucked her, kept her riding the top of the wave.

  She’d needed the vibrator to climax earlier. The second time, all she’d needed was him.

  * * * * *

  Cassandra flung her arm across her eyes. “Oh. My. God.” Then she couldn’t resist, she had to look down at him.

  Ward lay between her legs, his head resting on her thigh, feet hanging off the bed. He was still the prefect businessman, white shirt, black tie, black suit. Except that his pants were open, his cock was hard again, and their combined come glistened on his mouth.

  “Are you dead?” she whispered.

  “No.”

  “That was good.” And that was a horrendous understatement. She couldn’t for the life of her remember a more powerful orgasm. And the one she’d had only minutes before—as Ward salivated over her with another man—had been pretty spectacular. But honestly, nothing had ever been like what he’d just done. It wasn’t the act itself. Plenty of men had made her come quite impressively with their tongue. It was the whole package, dinner while he watched her, the angry shade of red suffusing his face, the soft click of the key card in the door, his eyes glittering in the dark. His threats—Don’t call her a cunt. Get out before I cut your dick off—or something like that. And the way he’d pounced on her, forced her. Taken her bareback. She didn’t do men bareback. She was cautious that way. But she’d wanted him flesh to flesh. She’d trusted him. And she’d needed his come deep inside so he could lick it out of her.

  She couldn’t quite explain it even to herself, but there was some weird sort of connection between them that she’d never felt with another man, some sort of synergy that elevated what they did together to something far beyond mere physical satisfaction. That’s what her sex life had been missing, synergy.

  “Better than Joe?” he muttered.

  “Joe?”

  “Joe Average. The guy I threw out on his ass.”

  She laughed. Joe Average was a good name for him. She’d met with him a few times when she was up here visiting her father. He was actually a little better than average, but he had nothing on Ward. No one compared with how Ward made her feel. Amazing. Because Ward was actually pretty average himself. Until he let the tiger out.

  “That was awful,” she scolded, laughter still edging her voice. “He was naked. What if some little kid was out in the hall? Traumatized for life.” She’d loved it, Ward’s high-handedness, his threats, the menace in his voice. And well, she kind of liked his defense of her, too. Don’t call her a cunt. She didn’t mind the word in that context. It was just dirty talk. But the fact that those were the first words out of his mouth warmed her.

  “He probably thinks I’ve gotten married since the last time I saw him.”

  Ward raised his head. “You know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you picked him up.”

  She tipped her chin down to look at him. “I did. But that was months ago.”

  “How many men do you have?”

  She started to count on her fingers.

  He put his palm up. “No. Don’t. I don’t want to know.”

  “I’m very slutty, you know.” She grinned at him.

  “Why don’t those words bother you?”

  “They’re just words. And I like who I am.” She loved sex. She loved men. She wouldn’t deny it. “And I love what you did tonight.”

  “All of it?” He moved slightly against her thigh as if he were nuzzling her.

  “Every single bit.”

  She should have tried the whole role-playing thing long ago. Except that she wasn’t sure it would work with anyone else. Ward was different from her other men. He was intense, bristling with emotion. He would have stopped if she’d told him to. He would have put on a condom. But he’d wanted to force her. He’d wanted to punish her. He’d been pissed and jealous. It wasn’t an act. And that made it all the hotter.

  “I especially loved it when you licked the come out of me. I’d told Joe to come on me, then I was going to make you lick it up. But instead you came in me and licked that up. It was so much better than what I’d planned.”

  “I’m not licking some other man’s come off you.” His voice was hoarse, gruff.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  She raised a brow. “I find it extremely hot.”

  He grunted. She didn’t think it was agreement.

  She imagined a threesome with Ward. The other guy fucking her, then Ward lapping his come out of her. Her body flushed, and a little rush of moisture made her wet all over again. Oh God, yes. She had to have it. Most men wanted a threesome with two women, but as much as she loved sex, Cassandra didn’t like sharing. She didn’t like the competition. But two men on her? Oh yeah, she definitely wanted that. She’d just have to figure out how to get Ward to agree.

  The problem was the whole condom issue. He’d said she needn’t worry about him, and she didn’t doubt him for a second. But a third party? They’d have to find someone they could trust. She went through her mental little black book. There were several possibilities. But Ward had been a tad touchy about the fact that she’d been with Joe before. Okay, his name wasn’t Joe, but he would forever be that to her from now on. Yes, Ward had seemed a little fussy about her men. It would probably be better to choose from his list of friends. She knew she could get him to love it once he’d tried a threesome.

  Ward shifted on the bed, sat up, then stood and straightened his suit jacket. “Thanks for a good time.” His voice was a little too hard for her liking.

  “You’re not leaving?” After all that body heat on her, she was cold without him.

  “Of course I am. Didn’t you re
nt the room for just an hour?”

  “Ouch,” she said. He was still angry. That had been perfect in the heat of the moment, but she didn’t want him to go away mad. She knee-walked to the edge of the bed and took hold of his tie knot, fixing it for him. “I’m staying the night. I thought Ruby and Holt might need some alone time.”

  His brow furrowed. “Ruby and Holt?”

  “Yeah. They’ve got all those wedding plans to make.” And they had other things they’d want to do in her absence.

  “Wedding plans?”

  She needed to order the dress material, too. “September isn’t that far away.” Then she got what he was saying. Or rather, what he wasn’t saying. “Don’t you even know?”

  “You’re crazy.”

  She smoothed her palms down his suit jacket. “No, I’m not. But I do believe I’ve let the cat out of the bag. Don’t tell Holt I said anything.” Why were they keeping it a secret? Duh. Because Ruby was Holt’s secretary. He was probably figuring out how to break it to his executive staff.

  Ward put the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Un-fucking-believable.”

  She fingered his lapels, then scrunched them in her fists to pull him closer. “Don’t go yet,” she whispered. She wasn’t done with him.

  Chapter Ten

  He woke to an expert mouth on his cock and a finger doing things to him no one had ever done. He couldn’t even find the breath to say any of the filthy expletives that came to mind. Fuck. Shit. Holy damn hell. What she did to him was too amazing for words anyway.

  His body rocked and surged deep into her mouth. His butt cheeks clenched around her questing finger. And the pleasure rocketed him into outer space. She knew every trick ever invented.

  When he exploded, she drained him to the last drop of come and beyond.

  For long moments he lay paralyzed and stupefied. He didn’t even realize she’d left the bed until she climbed back in again.

  “Was that good?” Her breath against his ear sent a shiver of need through him. Even after what she’d just done.