Page 13 of Billionaire Alien Boss Daddy

My hands glide back up her legs, the fabric of her skirt whispering against my palms. She’s trembling, her breath hitching as I reach the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her gasp is sharp, her body flinching involuntarily. I don’t stop. I can’t. Not yet.

“Hold still,” I snap, my voice low and commanding. My hand comes down on her backside with a sharpcrack, the sound echoing in the quiet office. She sucks in a ragged breath, her moan escaping before she can stifle it. Her hips press back into me, and I feel the heat of her through the layers of fabric. My cock throbs in response, and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus.

My hands move up her torso, skimming the curve of her waist, the dip of her ribs. She’s clean—I know she is. No Grolgath tech, no hidden devices. But I don’t stop. I can’t. Not yet. My fingers brush the underside of her breasts, and her breath stops entirely. I hesitate, my own breathing uneven, my heart pounding in my chest. This is a line. A major one. And I’ve just crossed it.

Her response isn’t what I expect. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t protest. Instead, she arches her back, pressing her bottom into my crotch with a deliberate, almost defiant motion. Her hands stay on the glass, her fingers splayed wide, but her body speaks volumes. She’s crossed a line of her own, and she’s daring me to follow.

I drop one hand from her breast, letting it trail down her stomach, past the waistband of her skirt. My fingers brush the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she shudders, her breath coming in shallow gasps. I’m so close, so damn close, when the door buzzes.

“Your Six AM meeting is here, Sir,” Miranda’s voice crackles over the intercom, sharp and businesslike.

I freeze, my hand hovering just above the heat of her. Claire’s body goes rigid, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, neither of us moves. Then I step back, my hands falling to my sides. The image inducer hums faintly as it reestablishes my human disguise, the hologram settling over my scales like a second skin.

“Clean yourself up,” I say, my voice rough. “And be ready to work.”

She doesn’t respond, her hands still pressed against the glass. I turn away, my jaw clenched, and head for the door. My cock aches, my body screaming for release, but I force it down. This isn’t the time. Not yet.

CHAPTER6

CLARICE

Simon strides across the office, his scaled form still glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. I watch him, my heart pounding, my body still humming with the memory of his hands on me. My panties are soaked, and the smell of it—God, he must know. He must know what he did to me, how he made me feel.

I smooth my skirt, trying to pull myself together. My fingers brush against the damp fabric, and I wince. Focus, Claire. Focus. You’re supposed to be spying on him, not… whatever the hell this is.

“Clarice.” His voice is low, commanding, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look up, and he’s standing by the door, one clawed hand resting on the frame. “Clean yourself up. We’ll discuss this later.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, my voice trembling. He doesn’t move, just stares at me with those crimson eyes, unblinking. I can’t tell if he’s angry or… something else. My cheeks burn as I realize I’m still standing here, my legs shaky, my body betraying me. I force myself to move, grabbing a tissue from his desk to wipe the floor.

Simon watches me for a moment longer, then toys with the fancy watch on his wrist. His form shimmers and returns to a human guise.

What the hell is he? And why does it make him even hotter? I should be horrified. I should be running to Silas right now, telling him everything. But the thought of Silas’s fake smile, his plastic-perfect face, makes my stomach twist.

I glance at the file on the desk—Veritas. The strange writing I saw earlier. My fingers itch to open it, to dig deeper, but Simon could come back any second. And if he catches me…

“Get it together, Claire,” I mutter to myself. I smooth my skirt again, and start toward the bathroom. I need to clean up, to look presentable before I face him again. But as I walk, I can’t stop thinking about his scales, his eyes, the way he pinned me against the window. My body reacts, shuddering from head to toe.

When I reach the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my green eyes wide and glassy. I look… different. Like I’ve been cracked open and put back together wrong.

“You’re supposed to be spying on him,” I whisper to myself. “Not… not this.” But the truth is, I don’t care about Silas’s stupid mission anymore. I want to know more about Simon. I want to know what he is, where he’s from, and why he’s here. And I want him to touch me again.

The thought makes me lightheaded. I press my thighs together, trying to stifle the heat pooling there. This is insane. I’m insane. But even as I think it, I know I’m not going to stop. Whatever game Simon is playing, I’m all in.

I step out of the bathroom, my skirt smoothed, my hair tamed, and my face composed into something resembling professionalism. My hands are still trembling, but I tuck them behind my back as I approach the lounge area where Simon is sitting with a man I don’t recognize. The man’s skin is an unnatural shade of orange, and his smile is too wide, too fake. He’s the kind of guy who probably brushes his teeth with champagne and calls it “grinding.”

“Mr. Coyle,” Simon says, gesturing to the man, who rises and shakes my hand with a grip that’s a little too enthusiastic. “Meet my assistant, Ms. Redding.”

“Claire,” I say, forcing a smile that feels just as plastic as Bill’s. “Pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Bill says, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. I glance at Simon, but his expression is unreadable, his gray eyes cool and detached.

“Ms. Redding, could you bring us some coffee?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, inclining my head slightly before hurrying toward the coffee station. I can feel Simon’s eyes on me as I move, and it feels glorious, and wrong, and perfect.

I prepare the coffee with shaky hands, my mind racing. Focus, Claire. Focus. You’re here for a reason. But every time I close my eyes, I see his scales, his red eyes, the way he pinned me against the window. My cheeks flush, and I try to steady myself.

When I return with the coffee, Bill is in mid-pitch, his voice slick and confident. “This Indonesian startup is the next big thing, Simon. Blockchain meets AI meets renewable energy. It’s a goldmine.”

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