Page 64 of Pucking My Bad Boy Boss
But Dom lifts up, giving me a grin that says, “you get what I give you, when I want you to have it.”
“Tease,” I say, pleasure still radiating from down below.
“It’s more fun that way,” he replies. “Trust me.”
I want to trust him. Idotrust him. I want to release, to give myself over to Dom and let him take me in only the way that he can. Finally, mercifully, he spreads my lips and turns his attention to my clit. I gasp as he touches me, the anticipation making it far more intense than it otherwise would’ve been. He makes slow circles and I squirm, my hips pushing against his touch.
Dom kisses me hard, his lips moving down, down, along my neck and to my breasts, where he gives each of my nipples slow, luscious attention before continuing over my belly and to my thighs. He flashes me a sexy-as-fuck grin before placing his tongue on my clit.
“Oh… ohGod.”
He knows just how to please me, just how to give me what I need. He licks me long and slow, his fingers penetrating me, my walls gripping them, wetness flowing over his touch. It doesn’t take much of this, much of this touching before he’s brought me to a slow, roiling orgasm. I gasp, my back arching as I pull in sharp gasps of air, each wave of pleasure rushing through me.
When he’s done, Dom raises up, his lips glistening with my juices.
“Can’t think of anything that tastes as sweet as you, lover.” He flashes me one more grin before wiping away my arousal with the back of his wrist, then coming in for a kiss.
“Such a charmer,” I say.
“I do my best.”
“Now, as much as I love a good tease…”
He laughs, low and throaty and sexy. “Don’t worry—I’m about to lose my mind if I’m not inside you.”
“That makes two of us.”
I glance down at his thick, hard cock, watching as he lowers himself between my thighs. He positions his manhood at my entrance, and by this point I’m so wet and ready that I practically bring him in myself. His familiar thickness, his sensual hardness, fills me in the way I crave, and all I can do is bit my lower lip as he bottoms me out.
Dom wraps his arms around me, each thrust slow and deep, intentioned for me to feel each bit of him move in and out, in and out. He opens his eyes and I meet his gaze and right away I see the love there, see the passion. This isn’t just sex, this is somethingmore.
I wrap my legs around his hips, my hands finding that perfect, athlete’s ass of his, and I push him down. His glutes tense underneath my touch and he’s picking up his pace, the power and depth behind every thrust making it clear he’s on the verge.
Then he stiffens, his cock erupting into me. It’s enough to make me come hard too, my eyes closed and my hand on his rear as I focus on the orgasm and the sensation of his cock pulsing inside.
In the aftermath, we're a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, the heat of our passion slowly giving way to a gentle, glowing warmth. I rest my head on Dom's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It's a sound that speaks of life, of vitality, and in this quiet moment, it's profoundly comforting.
Dom's arm wraps around me, holding me close in a protective embrace. There's a peace in this closeness, a sense of safety and belonging that I hadn't realized I was seeking. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity we just shared, but it's no less impactful.
We lie there in silence, the crackling of the fire and the soft patter of snow against the windows creating a cocoon around us. It's a rare moment of stillness in our otherwise tumultuous ruse, a chance to breathe and just be.
34
Dom
Iwakeuptothe morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Isabella is still asleep next to me, her face peaceful, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions we weathered last night.
I can't help but watch her, taking in the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair fans out on the pillow. She's beautiful, and for a moment, I let myself just appreciate her, forgetting the chaos that's unfolded around us.
Carefully, I shift, planning to test my knee. It feels surprisingly better, like the rest did it some good. Maybe I can...
"Don't even think about it, hotshot," Isabella's sleepy voice cuts through my thoughts. I look over, meeting her eyes. There's a playful sternness in them, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"I feel fine," I protest, but even as I say it, I know it's a half-truth. I'm eager to get back on my feet, to regain some sense of normalcy, but the concern in her eyes stops me.
Isabella sits up, the sheets pooling around her waist, her gaze fixed on me. "You might feel better, but that doesn't mean you're healed. Use the crutches until you're fully recovered," she insists, her tone brooking no argument.
I can't help but smirk at her insistence. "Yes, ma'am," I reply, a touch of mock salute in my voice. "But you have to admit, I'm a pretty resilient guy."
