by Hart, Alexa
“Yes sir.” I surprise both of us with my answer, willing myself to relax. Julian doesn’t ask twice, prodding at the opening with slow, hard circles. I moan at the unfamiliar sensation, my legs beginning to quiver with unsatisfied need.
Julian pulls away from me for a moment, opening one of my desk drawers to fish something out. I know exactly what he is looking for. A few weeks ago he left a gift in the drawer for me, to keep me company while he was away on a business trip. I never opened it, complaining to him that it just wasn’t the same.
Pulling the sleek vibrator from its packaging, Julian grins devilishly. A small sample-sized bottle of lube falls out of the box as well.
“Ah ah, don’t move.” He chastises me as I wriggle beneath his grip, the anticipation of what he plans to do with it almost killing me. “Now princess, we’re going to play a game.”
My pulse picks up, responding to the menacing tone of his impossibly sexy voice. How can someone be so threatening and so alluring at the same damn time?
“For each inch you take here,” he runs the cool metal tip along the knot of muscles, the cold sensation causing me to jump against him, “you get an inch here.” Julian presses the vibrator into my core just an inch, clicking it on. It springs to life immediately, vibrating against my walls, driving me crazy.
“Okay?” He prompts me again, pressing the toy into me even further, coaxing me into submission.
“Okay,” I breathe. It is all I can muster.
Julian lands a hard slap against my ass, reminding me.
“Sir.” I correct myself, “Okay sir.”
Seemingly satisfied with my correction, he pulls the vibrator from me, the dull whirring sound disappearing as he switches it off. He releases his grip in my hair to position himself behind me, pouring a generous amount of cold lube against me.
“Be a good girl, relax.”
I do as he says, steadying my erratic breathing, and leaning all of my weight into the desk, waiting. Julian inches the tip of the vibrator into me, not even an inch, mirroring the action with a small and teasing thrust into my core. I whimper at the sensations, overwhelming and underwhelming all at the same time. Slowly, he works his way into me, pulling in and out with each centimeter of the silver toy, training me to take the intrusion. By the time he is a full two inches in, my vision is blurred with desperate tears, and the backs of my legs are entirely soaked with my dripping arousal.
“Sir, please.” I bite out the whimper, trying to force myself backward onto him. His iron-clad grip on my waist stops me effortlessly.
“Please what, princess?” His fake sweet voice is teasing me. Tempting me. He wants me to flat out ask him for what I want. I let out a frustrated growl, knowing that I’ll never get it if I don’t beg.
“Please fuck me.”
“I am fucking you, beautiful. Be more specific.” I almost shriek in desperation, ready to snap.
“Please, Julian! Please! I can’t take it anymore; I need you all the way inside me. Please.” The last word comes out as a sob as I struggle against his strong grip.
“Where, princess?” Julian stills inside me, his hand not moving on the vibrator as he waits for my answer to his loaded question.
“Everywhere, please.” I whisper the barely inaudible plea to him, but he hears it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Julian slams into me to the hilt, pressing the button on the vibrator, whirling it to life in my most intimate places. I scream out with immediate release, tears pouring down my cheeks as he fucks me relentlessly, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from me, until I can't possibly cum anymore. When he finally stills inside me with his own release, I am limp on the desk beneath him, utterly spent. Julian pulls the toy from my entrance, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground as he pulls out of me, tucking himself back into his slacks to sweep me into his arms, carrying me upstairs for a much-needed shower.
Chapter 20
Ryan
“Now can I read it?” Julian’s voice is borderline incredulous as he asks me the futile question. I shake my head at him, giggling through sips of Dom. Celebratory Dom. We’re celebrating because, as of three hours ago, my book is #1 on the New York Times Best Seller List.
“Maybe you can read the next one,” I quip, playfully elbowing him from my spot on the floor. It’s barely noon on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and we’ve been sitting on the floor of the living room for hours, both basking in the unbelievable glow of my triumph. Julian of course has already made me sign him his own personal copy of my novel, that I’m sure will soon be framed somewhere in the house. Perhaps in the display case in the library, next to my first edition Hemingway.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Ryan.” The seriousness of his tone catches me off guard, washing over me in waves of adoration. I kiss him, thanking him.
“I could never have done it without you. I love you.”
Julian opens his mouth to respond when the ding of the elevator interrupts him. We cast each other quizzical glances, unsure of who could possibly be visiting on a Sunday afternoon.
The chrome doors slide open, and I let out a small gasp at the sight. In front of me, strolling into the marble foyer, is my mother. Noticeably sans wedding ring.
“Mom?” I ask the question as though I can’t see her clearly standing in front of me, or feel her slim arms pulling me in for a long overdue hug.
“Oh Ryan,” her voice cracks, “I’m so proud of you. I’m so sorry.”
“What are you doing here? Where’s dad?” I cast an unsure glance at Julian, as if to say, help me. He nods, encouraging me to return her gesture.
“Divorced, honey. Dad is divorced. Well, he’s going to be soon. I’m leaving him.”
“What?” I stutter over the dumbfounded question, wondering briefly if I’m somehow hallucinating.
“I’m so sorry for everything we’ve put you through. I read your book, darling. It’s incredible. You truly are wonderfully talented.” I nod along with her compliments, too stunned to respond to them. “Your trust fund was released an hour ago. No one will touch it again, as I’m taking the reins on my father’s company.” My mother explains, releasing me to pull Julian into a merciless hug.
“Julian, it’s lovely to see you dear.”
“Mrs. Blake.” He greets her with practiced manners and a charming smile, shaking her hand lightly.
“I won’t say it isn’t strange, but if you’re happy,” my mother turns to me, “you have my blessing.”
I sputter over any plausible response, my brain struggling to comprehend the moment. Julian takes over, ushering my mother into the kitchen for a glass of Dom and pleasant conversation.
When she finally leaves, just after dark, Julian is beaming at me.
“What?” I ask him, eyeing him from across the couch.
“Well, I was planning on waiting until dinner this evening, but since your mother so graciously gave us her blessing,” shifting from his position on the couch, Julian drops to one knee in front of me, pulling a small velvet box from the pocket of his slacks.
A small gasp escapes my widespread lips as he speaks.
“Ryan Blake, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever known. I have no intentions of ever letting you go. Will you please do me the honor of being my wife, so I don’t have to resort to less savory options, like kidnapping?”
I erupt in laughter at his ridiculous ultimatum, nodding feverously as he slips the beautiful solitaire onto my finger with a kiss.
“Yes. A million times yes.”
Julian pulls me into a hard kiss, muttering something against my lips that I couldn’t quite make out, but I’m almost positive I heard the word ‘forever.’
THE END
Also by Alexa Hart
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He’s the boss in the office AND the bedroom. Whatever he says goes.
There are two things I wish I’d known
before taking my first job as a legal associate at a top NYC firm.
1.Despite graduating at the top of my class, I would still be expected to fetch coffee for powerful senior partners.
2.My billionaire boss is drop dead gorgeous and should be avoided at all costs.
The second one is the kicker.
He’s a known workaholic, ultra-rich, total alpha male, looks good enough to eat…
But I never want to be accused of sleeping my way to the top.
Hell no! I’m a damn good attorney and I’m here to prove that.
One brilliant idea later and I working side by side with boss hottie.
And let’s just say… we make a great team.
Boss Hottie is a standalone romance full of over-the-top alpha hotness, thrilling suspense and one very unexpected bundle of joy. Ready to be dominated by the boss?? HEA Guaranteed!
Chapter 1
Sophia
Here’s the thing law school doesn’t teach you about being a female lawyer: the majority of the time, your superiors want one of two things – to steal your ideas, or to look down your top while you’re giving them the ideas they will later steal. At Carter and Jackson LLC, things are no different; I graduated top of my class at Columbia Law, and still, here I stand in the brightly lit associate lounge making coffee for a nondescript and unenthusiastic senior partner.
“Hey Soph, afternoon blues?” The sweet voice of my favorite colleague, Maya, pulls my attention from the too-many options on the office Keurig. She is gesturing to my mug.
“It’s for Aaron,” I sigh, stirring in cream until the liquid turns a perfect almond-brown. Maya nods knowingly, both of us sure we’ve never seen a male associate asked to get coffee for a partner. After finishing my own cup, I step aside for Maya to tinker with the machine, sipping the hot liquid for a moment of reprieve before returning to Aaron’s steady and probing supervision, which is not always focused on my work.
“Are you ready for the meeting?” I ask her, both trying to make conversation, and trying to steady my own nerves. The terrified look in her eyes as she glances up at me answers my question.
As lawyers, we tend not to scare easy; this is new territory for the both of us. We are two of the five associates who have performed well enough in our class to earn a seat observing the senior meeting. Once a month the company’s namesake, Michael Carter, sits down with the senior partners to discuss the upcoming high-profile cases, and assign them. Mr. Carter was one of two name partners, until he bought out his counterpart a few years ago. Not only does he own the controlling share of the company, but he is, in his own right, filthy rich. A combination of a good pedigree, and a lack of interest in almost anything but working. Though I’ve never had a conversation with the man, his reputation proceeds him for being both abhorrent, and drop dead gorgeous.
I nod at Maya’s silent answer, resigning myself to a morning of nervous preparation, and make my way towards Aaron’s office to drop of the coffee.
“Thanks darling,” Aaron smirks at me as I hand him the now lukewarm drink. I flash him a warm smile, and a nod.
“Do you need anything else? I was going to go prepare for the meeting.” I keep my voice even and firm as I speak the words I know he finds incredulous. Dropping his ballpoint pen to the desk, the mid-forties man sits back in his chair to look me up and down; slowly, and deliberately. My fingers gently scramble at the edge of my black pencil skirt, and it is all that I can do not to run from his violating gaze. Pursing his lips, the senior partner finally speaks.
“Prepare what?” I swallow the bile in my throat, using the condescending question as a chance to remind him why I got this job in the first place.
“I’ve memorized all of the upcoming cases in question, but I’d like to brush up on some of the relevant case-law.”
“You’ve memorized them? All of them?” Aaron raises a graying brow at me, and I nod firmly.
“Bleaker v. The State of New York.”
“Fifth Amendment Just-Compensation Clause. Bleaker is looking to purchase a piece of land to demolish the housing there and subsequently develop it into a mall. The residents wouldn’t vacate, so he petitioned the state to invoke their right to evict them with compensation. The state refused, and now Bleaker is fighting on appeal.”
I can’t help but smirk a bit at the shocked look on Aaron’s face. I’ve never worked on the Bleaker case, but I like to stay well informed on every case every senior partner is working on, just in case.
“Ok,” he resigns, almost with an air of approval in his husky voice. “Go, prepare.”
I thank him sincerely, and rush off to the firm library to do just that. By the time 3 o’clock rolls around, I am an expert on every case. I glance at my rose-gold watch. 3:04. The meeting begins promptly at 3:15, so I have a few minutes to primp. Gathering my papers, I stop in the women’s restroom on the way.
I try not to wear too-much makeup at work. Usually I’m so tired at the end of the day that I resent having to scrub it off. Today is different; I woke up bright and early to sip my coffee while painting my face, just slightly, to give the illusion that I’m not a sleep deprived workaholic. A touch of black mascara surrounding my almond shaped coffee-brown eyes, a bit of blush and bronzer to frame my already-prominent cheekbones, and a dab of lipstick. The rosebud color does a lot for me, I’ll admit. I don’t often to refer to myself as pretty, or beautiful in any sense, because I’d like to think that my looks aren’t my greatest asset. Although Aaron’s ever-present stare disagrees. Splashing a bit of water onto my long fingers, I smooth down the stray bits of my straight hair. It’s light coffee color matching perfectly with my eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the women’s-restroom-haven, and make my way towards the conference room.
A few people are already present when I arrive, but Mr. Carter is nowhere in sight. I take a seat at the far end of the room, against the wall next to Maya. Our conference room, like most other rooms in the building, holds a glass wall on one side, and a floor-to-ceiling window on the other, granting us a breathtaking view of the New York City skyline. The floors are soft corporate style carpeting, which dulls the sound of my stilettos, but lends a small degree of hominess to the room. I have just taken out my notebook when the room goes silent around me. Glancing up, I see why.
His reputation is right, Mr. Carter is more than just good looking, he’s beautiful. There is a dusting of black shadow along his sculpted jaw and his matching black hair is swept up from his forehead, not high enough to be a frat boy, but not low enough to be going to supercuts. A couple tantalizing strands hang loose from the style, brushing across his skin. That’s not what makes my breathing hitch, though, because a few inches beneath the perfectly sculpted hair, is the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. They survey the room, clearly taking note of who was smart enough to arrive before he did. I swear I catch his gaze pause on me for just a moment, but it is gone before I have a chance to be sure.
“Well, let’s begin.” Unbuttoning the black jacket of his designer suit, Mr. Carter leisurely takes his seat at the head of the table, listening intently as one of the partners outlines the 6 cases we will be discussing today. Five involve corporate law – our firm’s specialty. One is a real estate case. In the entire history of Carter & Jackson, we’ve only taken on four cases that aren’t corporate. My whole body hums with curiosity as we make our way down the list to the case in question.
The partners rattle on about each one, obviously trying to impress Mr. Carter. They argue about Anti-Trust laws, and the best way to handle corporate mergers, until being silenced by his final say on the matter. His velvet voice is strong, and intimidating. I almost jump from my seat with each new sentence he speaks. Currently, Aaron is arguing with one of the other men about some mundane tax code.
“You’re both wrong. Because the absorbing company is based overseas, that code doesn’t even apply. What am I paying you for?” The small outburst causes me to jump slightly in my seat, and
his blue orbs catch me. I feel my cheeks go red under his curious gaze, causing his lips to upturn into a satisfied smirk. Great, I’m glad my severe discomfort amuses him.
We finally move to the last case, and I can feel his eyes catch me every few seconds. There’s a few moments of discord about the merits of taking a real estate case pro bono, before Mr. Carter makes it clear it’s not up for debate. They drum over the best approach for at least 20 minutes, each person bringing up a new idea only for him to shoot them down in some demeaning and condescending way. I turn the case over and over in my head, wanting so badly to speak, but knowing it isn’t my place. Finally, after what feels like forever, Mr. Carter pipes up.
“Is this the best we have? No one has any better ideas?”
“I do.” My lips let the words tumble out without consulting my brain, and everyone in the room freezes, turning to shoot me daggers through their eyes. I squirm under the attention, but Mr. Carter motions for me to go on, almost amusedly.
“We’re approaching this case as a single civil suit,” I begin, boldly using the word ‘we’, “instead, we should track down each of the other tenants, past and present, who have had similar problems with the company. We assist them in filing their cases alongside Mrs. Thompson, and we overwhelm their defense fund. It’s tantamount to a class action case; the legal fees alone will bankrupt the company. They’ll have no choice but to settle.”
I hear a few sighs from the partners, annoyed that I had the audacity to speak up, even more annoyed that my input is viable. Mr. Carter scrutinizes me with his clear-blue gaze, making me sweat under the weight of the evaluation. For a moment, I can almost see a ghost of a smile grace his lips before his voice rings out in a final declaration.
“No.” …..
Continue reading Boss Hottie
They call him the sugar daddy of New York. Every woman’s wildest dream… richer than sin and built like a god. He may be gorgeous, but this is strictly business. There’s no way I could actually fall for Luke… right?
