Page 41 of Pucking My Bad Boy Boss
We exchange goodbyes, and as I step out into the cool evening air, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts—about Jason, the upcoming training camp, and the impending 'cohabitation' with Dom. It's going to be an interesting night, to say the least. But as I walk away, I can't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. This fake engagement might be a ruse, but it's certainly not lacking in excitement.
20
Dom
WaitingforIsabellatoshow up at my place feels like I'm back on the ice, seconds before a game-changing play. The anticipation is a familiar thrill, a mixture of adrenaline and eagerness. I've prepped my apartment, not that it needs much. It's a stylish space downtown, a blend of modern luxury and masculine comfort.
I’ve made sure my apartment is ready for her—not that it needed much preparation. It’s a stylish space in downtown, a perfect blend of modern luxury and masculine comfort. The high ceilings and expansive windows offer a panoramic view of the city, while the sleek, contemporary furniture adds to its upscale vibe.
As part of our fake engagement arrangement, we agreed that for the sake of plausibility, Isabella would stay at my place for the duration. It makes sense—a newly engaged couple often lives together, and it would look odd to the public if we didn’t. Plus, it lends an air of authenticity to the whole setup, a crucial element if we’re going to convince everyone of our ‘love story.’
I can’t deny there’s a part of me that's curious about how this living arrangement will play out. Sharing my space with Isabella, having her here in my personal haven—it’s going to be an interesting experience. I’ve always been a lone wolf, but the thought of Isabella in my space, in my world, adds a new layer to our already complex relationship.
I glance around, ensuring everything is in place. The bar is stocked, the living area is inviting, and I've even cleared the guest room’s closet and drawers for her things—a small gesture, but one that shows I'm taking this seriously.
I hear her footsteps approaching the door, and my heart kicks up a notch. When she steps inside, it's like a live wire jolts through me. There she stands, Isabella Carrington in all her glory. She's dressed casually, but damn, even in a simple pair of jeans and a fitted top, she's a knockout. Her hair falls perfectly around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that makes it impossible not to stare.
Goddamndo I want her. My cock twitches to life at the sight of her, my heart skipping a beat, my eyes tracing over her curves, lingering on her perfect, round ass. I snap my gaze back to her eyes before she suspects a thing.
"Welcome to my humble abode," I say, my voice a smooth drawl, as I step aside to let her in. Her scent wafts by me as she enters, and I close my eyes for a moment to focus on it. Everything about the woman is a turn-on.
She arches an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "Humble isn't the word I'd use," she replies, her gaze sweeping across the open-plan living area.
I take the leather duffel she’s carried in with her.
“We can send for whatever else you need,” I say. “You’re going to be living here, after all.”
She purses her lips. “Still can’t get over that.”
“Don’t worry about it—we’re both going to be so busy with work that the time’s going to fly by. Not to mention the place is so big that we can both be here at the same time and not even know the other’s here. You’ll have all the space you need.”
I sweep my hand towards the interior.
“Let’s do the grand tour, huh?”
“Lets.”
I lead her through the apartment, pointing out the various features—the state-of-the-art kitchen, the expansive living room with its panoramic city views, and my personal favorite, the entertainment area with a top-of-the-line sound system and a collection of signed sports memorabilia.
With each room, I watch her reactions closely, her interest piqued by certain elements—a nod of appreciation at my book collection, a quirk of her lips at the neatly arranged row of hockey sticks.
The air between us crackles with an unspoken energy, each comment and observation loaded with an undercurrent of something more. Our eyes meet frequently, lingering just a moment too long, charged glances that speak volumes.
"So, this is where the magic happens?" she quips as we enter the bedroom, her tone teasing but her eyes betraying a flicker of curiosity.
I can't help but chuckle, leaning against the doorframe. "Only the best kind of magic," I reply, my voice low and suggestive. The look she gives me is a mix of amusement and challenge, and it sends a clear message—she's not as immune to this tension as she'd like to appear.
Leading Isabella to the spare bedroom that will be hers, I can't help but feel a pang of something... anticipation, maybe? The room is smaller than the rest of the apartment but no less comfortable. The walls are adorned with tasteful art, and a plush queen-sized bed sits invitingly in the center. But the real showstopper is the view. Large windows offer a breathtaking panorama of Seattle, the city lights twinkling like a carpet of stars against the night sky.
As she steps into the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the view, there's a moment of awed silence. She walks over to the window, gazing out at the cityscape, and I watch her, taking in her silhouette against the backdrop of the illuminated city.
"It's beautiful, Dom," she says, her voice tinged with genuine appreciation.
"I'm glad you like it," I reply, leaning casually against the doorframe.
She turns from the window and sits on the edge of the bed, testing the softness of the mattress. In that moment, an unbidden thought flashes through my mind—Isabella, on this very bed, her lips, my cock... I shake my head, pushing the thought away. This is my fake fiancée, not some one-night stand.
"Yeah, it's cozy," she comments, looking around the room. I set her bag down on the bed and nod back towards the hallway.
