Bad Boss

by Brooke Page

  Craft rolled in his chair to a stack of papers, thumbing through them while I stood like a moron in the threshold of his office.

  “Are you ready to go over the presentation for tomorrow?” I finally asked, stepping into his room and directly across from his shiny black desk.

  His jacket was off and draped over his chair. One hand was on his forehead while the other spun a pen in between his fingers. He was focused yet seemed distracted at the same time. The product that styled his hair perfectly was losing its mold. By the way his hand moved from his forehead and through his dark locks to the back of his neck was the culprit. That or Leslie grabbed a hold of it while he fucked her.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if he screwed her while I created that damn power point presentation.

  “Yes, I am. Close the door and take a seat at my conference table.” His response was assertive, and I obeyed. I needed to work on standing up for myself. Maybe that was why he kept me around, because I took his shit without putting up a fight.

  He stretched from his seat at his desk, tossing his pen on a stack of papers in the corner. Grabbing his laptop, he brought it to the table, pulling out a chair for me to sit down. It was a gesture I wasn’t used to in my everyday life. I hadn’t had a boyfriend who was cordial like Craft. He always opened the door, pulled out chairs, let women go first. He was obnoxiously chivalrous, yet his brutally honesty and bluntness ruined his manners.

  I didn’t walk toward him until his eyes found mine. Eye contact wasn’t his thing, at least not with me. He rarely met my gaze. The fact I always made him look at me irritated him. I enjoyed getting under his skin when I could.

  His jaw was tense while he waited for me to sit down.

  Setting my iPad and USB port down on the table, I took a seat, my breath hitching when he pushed my chair under the table with me in it.

  “We don’t have all day,” he grumbled in reference to my timid approach.

  “I understand,” I sighed, shoving my USB port into his laptop.

  I could see his eye roll at side glance. “I asked you to save the PowerPoint in a google doc.”

  “I did, but I like to have a backup in case something goes wrong.”

  His lips went tight. “Technology doesn’t fail us, it’s the user who creates the issues.”

  Such a pompous asshole.

  “I don’t create issues, I simply prefer to be prepared in all possible scenarios.”

  His brows narrowed, but he didn’t comment on my attitude. “Issues? What kind of issues would you expect for us to come across?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, the internet going down?” I couldn’t contain my sarcasm.

  “That’s why I have personal hotspots, for the rare occasion the internet goes down.”

  I rose a brow at him. “What if the weather is bad? Everyone knows the internet goes flaky in a rainstorm. Especially with cell phones.”

  His lip twitched. “I’ve never had issues. Maybe you should change your cell phone provider.”

  “What if an alien invasion comes in and zaps out all of the technology?”

  He rested his hand on his chin when he looked at me. “If that outrageous prediction happens, we wouldn’t be able to access a computer at all.”

  My forehead wrinkled. I hated when he was right. “Why does it matter? As long as we’re prepared it shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Well, then by all means, use your dying technology and pull up the presentation.”

  Containing my glare, I quickly inserted the port and pulled up the document.

  He stayed silent while I worked, situating myself to take notes on my iPad and make changes where it was necessary.

  When I was ready, I noticed he was watching me intently, his hard exterior that usually held a scowl wasn’t there. Relaxed facial expressions made him all the more attractive.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the awkwardness of him staring at me made me uncomfortable. “Did you want to get started?”

  Clearing his throat, he took a seat next to me, focusing his attention on the slides.

  Our interactions were eerily quiet at first, but soon picked up with each slide, having me add and take away information to his approval. He never gave compliments or asked for my opinion, I merely sat at the screen, adjusting the slides to his perfection.

  After two hours of sitting in that room while he pondered if my slide creations were up to par, we were nearly done, and my stomach growled.

  My body froze and I flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry,” I mumbled, standing from my chair and smoothing over my skirt.

  “Didn’t know typing was so exerting,” he deadpanned, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head.

  “I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. Typically I eat at noon, but since you wanted to go over the slides, I skipped.”

  He didn’t have a response, and I was too nervous to look over my shoulder to see his reaction. I shouldn’t have snipped at him, but I was hungry, and normally became cranky and short on an empty stomach.

  “Do you have low blood sugar or something?”

  His sarcasm wasn’t amusing. “What if I did?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d assume you’d speak up and say you needed to eat something, or take an insulin shot.”

  It took all of me to hold my jaw in place from his insensitivity. The sparkle in his eye dared me to say something, but I kept my mouth shut.

  Turning back to the laptop, I stretched my back, well aware of how long I’d been sitting in that damn chair. I’d need to go for a run after work today. That’d help loosen me up some, and it would help to release some steam from the added irritation Craft had caused.

  Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward while standing and continued to the last slide. “What do you think about this one? It’s your closer, so it’s important to…” My breath hitched.

  A gentle pressure caressed down my spine to my lower back. Did something fall on me? Did a large spider propel from the ceiling, cautiously creeping along my dress?

  I peeked over my shoulder. Mr. Craft was no longer sitting but standing behind me, his focus away from the computer screen and on my lower back. Oh my God, was there really a spider on me?

  The gentle pressure became more firm, and a lump formed in my throat. He most definitely was touching me, and a quiver settled in my stomach.

  The air was thick, the gentle hum of the laptop mixed with my increased breathing. Did he realize what he was doing? Surely he wasn’t intentionally touching me.

  “What are your thoughts,” He murmured, his hand slowly moving to my hip. “I’d like to get your honest opinion.”

  I licked my suddenly dry lips, unsure if I opened my mouth that a coherent word would escape or not. “I’m, um, I’m not really sure.”

  He sighed, the heat of his breath tickling my cheek. I was hyper aware of his body now, sure he’d at any moment disengage and turn into the giant asshole he normally was.

  “I want to know how this should end,” he whispered, his hand moving from my hip back to my lower back. “I need to know if the ending I’m envisioning will match the slides.”

  Was he referring to me as the presentation? Is that what he meant? Was he feeling me out, seeing if this was something I was willing to do? To let him touch me? Did he want to go further?

  I tilted my head and his lips brushed the shell of my ear by the subtle movement. He kept them in place, his breath steady and in control. He was always so calm and collected in every situation, but I guess that’s how you become a partner in a successful marketing firm.

  My blood was pumping wildly. Confusion and desire were beginning to blend together. Surely I was taking this the wrong way. My body was only reacting because he was so fucking gorgeous, not because I had actual feelings toward him. I’d have to be cohesive with his personality and I most definitely didn’t share the same views as him. I liked to think I was kind and patient, while he was stubborn and demanding.r />
  His hand traveled from my hip and up my side, gently moving my almond colored hair away from my neck. “I want to be on the same page as you with this,” he whispered, his fingertips cautiously brushing along the side of my neck. I opened my mouth, only to close it again. I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to cross the line my body was trying to shove me over. It was craving him, beginning to pulse with desire from his simple touch. His exterior was always so hard, not matching these gentle caresses and soft murmurs coming from his hands and mouth.

  The smooth pads of his fingers found my chin, forcing me to look over my shoulder and meet his lust-filled eyes. “Ms. Neely, I need an answer.”

  Chapter Three

  He searched my face for a sign, his jaw tensing with each passing second. When his thumb brushed my bottom lip, my body betrayed me, caving to the seduction and tasting the saltiness of his skin. The way his chest swelled from the contact of my tongue swiping the pad of his thumb, made his intentions clear. He wanted this every day meeting to turn into more.

  His free arm wrapped around my waist, forcing my body to shift and face him. Our bodies were flush together now. I’d always thought he was in great shape by looking at him, but being smashed against his body proved it. He was like a rock, and my fidgeting hands slipped from my sides to his pecs.

  His body stilled, his eyes showing a fraction of vulnerability. Did he think I was going to shove him away from me? I should have smacked him, but the ache between my legs was begging me to rip his clothes off and have my way with him.

  Once my hands relaxed on his chest, a deviant smirk settled across his face. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Ms. Neely.” He took my hand that had been burned earlier and studied it, only to plant a gentle kiss where a faint red mark was in place from the hot coffee.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but was captured by his lips before words came out. My breath was stolen by his tongue plunging into my mouth with no fear, diving in, and exploring eagerly.

  I groaned into his mouth, both my hands finding his hair, grasping it while he kissed me fiercely. The dominance of his mouth was equivalent with his personality. Bold, strong, and demanding. All of the qualities that made me want to punch him in the face on a daily basis.

  I bit down on his lip and shoved at his rock of a chest. He grunted, yet kept me in his hold.

  “You’re an asshole,” I gasped, releasing my bite on his lip, still whirling from his kiss.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Craft’s eyes were like molted hot lava, burning with desire as he stared at me. My outburst didn’t have an effect on him. It only caused that dirty mouth to suckle the weak spot along the side of my neck.

  His mouth felt amazing, but anger fueled inside of me. He knew he was a dick, and didn’t give a shit, thinking he could still take whatever he wanted.

  Craft was in for a rude awakening. It was time to speak my mind. Time to finally let him know how big of a jerk I thought he was. Here he was, keeping me in his office, putting his hands on me. That deliciously stubbled jaw scraped along my neck and against the shell of my ear, causing unwanted tingles to slither up and down my body. Those tingles were traitors; along with my hardening nipples, but that wasn’t the point.

  No, he needed to realize that just because he was sexy and successful didn’t mean he could take advantage of women whenever he wanted. Fury surpassed my aching need for release in my body, and I couldn’t hold back my tongue any longer. And no, not from licking him… although my mouth was twitching eagerly at the thought.

  He nibbled on the soft skin where my shoulder met my neck. I masked my moan with a growl.

  Both of my hands flung to his hair, grabbing the thick locks and yanking his head from the nook of my neck.

  Hot, lust-filled eyes met mine. He fought my grip to claim my mouth, but I kept my hold. He groaned and licked his lips.

  “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I hissed, digging my nails into his scalp.

  He furrowed his brows and his hands carefully unwrapped from my waist. I thought I was gaining the upper hand, that he was going to stop this frenzy we had created in the matter of moments, but I was wrong.

  His hands quickly latched onto my thighs, grasping underneath the hem of my dress. My breath whooshed from my chest in a rush, my hands still clinging to his hair as he lifted me onto the desk, knocking the laptop to the ground in the process. He spread my legs apart and hiked my dress to my hips, nestling his groin comfortably between them.

  My eyes went wide. His arousal was pressed to the thin panty covering my mound. My hips bucked forward against my will, begging for friction. I shouldn’t have wanted him so badly, and I most definitely shouldn’t have given into the sensation, but the quick pulse below my waist begged to differ. It was filled with a need, aching for the longing burst of release it hadn’t had in too long of a time.

  Craft’s lip twitched in satisfaction, his own hips grinding. The palm of his hand snaked to my lower back, holding me in place. “Don’t pretend we don’t have the same thoughts about each other,” he breathed across my cheek. “Don’t deny this.”

  My eyes rolled to the back of my head as his tongue traced a trail down my neck and to my collarbone. “What am I denying?”

  Warm lips caress my jaw. “I’ve seen how your chest rises when I walk in the door, how your breathing quickens when your vision rakes up and down my body. You’ve thought about this moment.”

  What an arrogant prick.

  My hands flew from his hair, shoving at his stone of a chest again. His hips stayed in place, but his mouth moved from my skin. “Get the fuck off of me,” I hissed. “I’ve never checked you out. I might stare at you because I’m shocked how much of a conceded asshole you are, not because I want to have sex with you!”

  A smirk crossed his lips. He knew I was lying to him. My mouth was confessing my hatred toward his attitude, yet my body was fuming with the undeniable physical desire toward him.

  “Ms. Neely, I must admit, I love this smart mouth of yours. You should use it more often.”

  I grabbed his tie, tugging it forward.

  Keeping his face an inch from mine, I whispered. “This smart mouth has all kinds of talents, but you’ll never know the half of them.”

  The hard ridge in his pants twitched into my core, and I etched against it.

  He licked his lips. “That’s too bad, because my mouth is more than willing to swap talents.”

  I held my breath, unsure why my being a bitch wasn’t turning him off. With his ego, I’d assumed he’d curl away, tell me I’m ugly and that he was only trying to fuck me. Not continue to persuade me.

  The pad of his thumb brushed my inner thigh, creeping closer to the apex. My legs were frozen around him, unable to move from the gentle touch. He watched for a reaction every inch higher up my leg he went.

  I bit down on my bottom lip, refusing to indicate that my body was craving him and on the verge of submitting. My hatred for him was evaporating into shock wave of tingles.

  “Would you like for me to share?” He murmured, his thumb now playing with my panty line. No doubt he could feel the heat of excitement seeping into his restrained cock.

  “Huh?”

  Trailing his thumb over the top of the lace now, he skimmed between my lips. His smirk became wicked from feeling my dampened folds. “Would you like for me to share the talent my mouth has?”

  I sat there on the desk, my mouth gaped opened as he fondled me underneath my dress. This was all so abrupt, so sudden. I couldn’t process a thought, especially when his hands were as skillful as they were rumored to be.

  The hand that was on my lower back slid to my waist, stroking a peaked nipple in its route to my chest.

  His breath was hot and urgent as he muttered his next words. “Let me show you.” The palm of his hand firmly applied pressure against my chest, guiding me to lie on my back. His hand left my chest, grabbing my ankle and rising up my thigh, the anticipation only ad
ding to the ache.

  I should have stopped him when he rolled the fabric down my hips and through my heels, getting caught on the sharp end of the stiletto. I should have kicked him in the nuts, or sat up and slapped him. But no, instead I came up onto my elbows, anxious for his next move. Feeling a thrill from how he went to his knees, his pupils dilated as he spread my legs, glued to my center.

  Thank goodness I kept up with my razor down there.

  His eyes flicked to mine. “You like to watch, don’t you?”

  I bit my lip. I’d never been intrigued to watch a man go down on me, why I couldn’t take my look away from his stubbled jaw so close to my naughty bits was beyond me.

  His grin could have belonged to the devil himself. “Filthy girl. I can’t wait to taste this pretty pink pussy of yours.” One finger slithered between my folds, moving sleekly from my excitement. “I’m going to think about this every time I have a meeting at this table. How you spread your legs for me.”

  I latched my leg around his shoulder. “And I’ll think of how you fell to your knees for me.”

  His brows narrowed, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “You’ll be on your knees soon.”

  My lip curled. Not a chance in hell.

  His nimble finger paused at my entrance, gently circling. The slow process was agonizing, and my hips began to move, needing him to come inside. He was teasing me now, and I didn’t have time for this shit.

  I sat up and grabbed his chin. “You have a meeting at 2:30pm.”

  In an instant, my breath was stolen from me as two fingers sunk inside of me. My eyes rolled back while he pumped.

  “Greedy and impatient. I’m learning all kinds of new character traits of yours, Ms. Neely.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, although the soft hum of my voice was one of satisfaction and not because I agreed with him.

  He stood from his knees, palming my mound while he thrust his fingers at a steady pace. “You’ll have to be patient for my tongue,” he murmured across my gaping mouth, nipping my bottom lip.