Page 46 of Pucking My Bad Boy Boss
As he brings me closer to the edge, my body responds to his every touch, every thrust. It's a dance of desire, perfectly in sync, as if we are two parts of the same whole. The sight of his strong, sculpted body moving with such purpose and passion is a vision that will forever be etched in my mind.
And then, as we reach the crescendo, I feel a wave of ecstasy crash over me, a release so powerful and all-consuming that I can't help but cry out his name. He joins me, a hard grunt sounding from the depths of him as he explodes inside. I feel his warmth spread throughout, inside of me, then trickle down my shaking thigh.
Post our passion, we find ourselves sprawled on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over us. The city sprawls out beyond the windows, a tapestry of lights against the night sky. We're sipping wine, the taste bittersweet on my tongue, as reality slowly seeps back in.
My mind races, trying to piece together the shift from my strictly-business demeanor to this unexpected craving for intimacy with Dom. His disclosure about his family, the way he spoke about growing up surrounded by strong women, it resonated with me on a deeper level. For the first time, I felt like he truly understood the battles I face, not just in the boardroom but as a woman striving to make her mark.
And then, there was the way he reacted when I mentioned feeling watched. The genuine concern in his eyes, his instinct to protect me—it stirred something in me, a sense of safety and care that I hadn't realized I was seeking. The combination of feeling understood and protected has unexpectedly bridged the gap between us, turning what was meant to be a mere arrangement into something more, something that feels a lot like a real connection.
I'm lost in a whirl of thoughts when I feel a gentle nudge. I turn to find him smirking playfully.
"Hey," he teases, "you seem miles away. Did I lose my charm already?"
His words pull me back to the present, and I can't help but smile at his mock concern.
Leaning closer, his voice drops to a mischievously suggestive tone. "Or do I need to find a more... persuasive way to keep your attention?"
I let out a laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Trust me, Dom," I respond, playfully rolling my eyes, "you've had all my attention, and quite effectively so."
The lightness and ease of this intimate moment surprises me. There's a growing connection between us, one that's evolving beyond the pretense of our arrangement. It's an unexpected development, but not an unwelcome one.
In the quiet comfort of the moment, my gaze drifts to his knee, where a scar—a stark reminder of his past as an NHL player—marks his skin. Without thinking, I reach out and gently trace the line with my finger, a silent question hanging in the air.
He tenses immediately, pulling his leg away with a sharpness that takes me by surprise. "Don't," he says tersely, a shadow crossing his face.
I retract my hand, taken aback. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
He shakes his head, sighing heavily. "No, I'm sorry. It's just... a sensitive subject." His voice is laced with a mix of regret and pain, emotions that he usually keeps hidden.
I nod, understanding. His injury wasn't just a physical setback; it was a turning point in his life, a dream derailed.
Lying there, the weight of what we've just done begins to press down on me. "This was a mistake," I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "A fun mistake, but a mistake nonetheless."
He looks at me, his expression unreadable in the firelight.
"We need to keep things professional. We can't... do this. We can't be pawing at each other like horny teenagers."
He nods slowly, a resigned look in his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. Professional. That's what this should be."
But as he agrees, I catch a flicker of something else in his gaze, a reluctance, maybe even a hint of regret. And I can't help but wonder if keeping things strictly professional is going to be as easy as we're making it out to be.
“I should get to bed.” I rise, glancing over my shoulder at Dom.
For a moment, he looks like he has something to say. But it fades, his expression going flat.
“Yeah. Good night.”
I leave without another word.
Retreating to the sanctuary of my temporary bedroom, I can't shake off the tangled web of emotions and memories that tonight has unraveled. As I stand by the window, gazing out over the city's glittering expanse, a stark realization hits me—the way Dom used to treat me when he was my boss.
He was often rude, sometimes downright tyrannical. He wielded his authority with a heavy hand, leaving me to navigate his temper and demands. And yet, in the most intimate way possible, I had given myself to that same man. The irony of the situation isn't lost on me, and it stings.
I have a flashback to my time with Jason. He was so overbearing, always needing to be in control, and it kind of snuffed out my spark. I lost a part of myself with him, and I've sworn not to let that happen again.
And then there's Dom. Sure, he's got charm and an undeniable presence. But he's also got that alpha thing going on, and it's hitting too close to home. Despite the genuine connection we've shared, I can't help but be wary. What if his strong personality starts to eclipse mine, like Jason's did?
So, here's the plan: keep my heart under lock and key. It's my go-to move, my safety net. Falling for Dom? That's a risk I'm not ready to take. I've worked too hard to rebuild myself after Jason to let someone else come in and shake things up.
