Page 35 of The Boss

The pressure building at the base of my cock told me I was getting close, and I reached under her to get her there first. Three rough circles over her swollen clit, and she came, her screams muffled as she buried her face in the comforter. My hips moved in short jerks twice, three times, and then I was coming too.

It wasn’t until I’d come down and was lying next to her that my brain reminded me of what I’d called her.

Le soleil. The sun.

It was what my grandfather had called my grandmother.

I was so fucked.

Twenty-One

Ashlee

I didn’t dream.

When I got home last night, I took a quick shower and collapsed into bed, exhausted. Seconds later, I was asleep, and I didn’t remember anything until my alarm woke me up. No dreams. Nothing.

For a minute after I woke up, I didn’t remember anything either, but then I rolled onto my back, and the still sensitive skin on my ass stung like a sunburn. With that pain came the memory of how my ass had gotten that way. Then I realized that other parts of my body were aching. My muscles felt like I’d been doing a hardcore workout for an hour or so, and anytime I moved my legs, my pussy protested.

I regretted nothing.

But as the memories of everything Nate and I had done came flooding through my brain, reality set in, and with it came embarrassment.

I’d slept with my boss. Technically my bosses’ boss, but that didn’t make it better. And I hadn’t just had sex with him. He’d been my first. And it hadn’t been some basic vanilla sex either. He’d used his fingers to make me come at a work event, and then he’d gone down on me in his living room. He’d spanked me and then taken me on all fours until I’d come hard enough to see stars.

Not exactly how I’d pictured losing my virginity. Though, in all honesty, I hadn’t really done much thinking about it in general. By the time I’d been old enough to have sex on my mind, there had been enough other things going on in my life that being a virgin hadn’t even been close to important.

But still, if someone had asked me how I thought it would happen, this wouldn’t have been it.

Another alarm went off on my phone, and I frowned as I reached for it. I cursed when I saw the reminder.Brunch with Mom.

At least I could be thankful that, despite everything we’d done together, Nate hadn’t given me a hickey. I would’ve had a hell of a time explaining that to my mom. I planned on telling her, but I didn’t want it to be the first thing we talked about. There had to be some way to ease into the conversation.

* * *

“I’ve never seenthat outfit before. It’s lovely.” Mom gave me a hug before pulling back and tucking some hair behind my ear.

“Thank you.” As I did every time I saw her, I looked her over from head to toe, taking in every new wrinkle, anything that could indicate that something was wrong.

Even though she was only fifty, her hair was pure white, styled in short, tasteful curls. I’d gotten my red hair from her, but when it’d come back after chemo, it had been solid white. I actually looked a lot like her, even without the same hair color. Same face shape, same build. We’d been through a lot together, and she wasn’t just my mother. She was my best friend.

Which meant she knew me far too well.

Her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head but couldn’t meet her eyes. “Nothing, Mom.” I motioned behind her. “Our table’s ready.”

We followed the hostess to the corner table where we always sat when it was too cold to be outside. With the sun shining, Mom might’ve tried arguing that she was fine and we could sit outside, but she was giving me a look that said she’d conceded our seating rather than debating it with me because she had other things on her mind.

Things that had to do with the wince I had to hide when I sat down.

“Would you both like your usual drinks?” The waitress that came over had been serving us almost every week for the past three years, and she always had a smile for us.

“Yes, please,” Mom said with a polite smile. “How are you doing, Tiffany?”

“I’m great, Ms. Webb. How did your appointment go on Friday?”

For a moment, panic flared up. Mom had been in remission for five years, but the wordappointmentstill conjured up images of hospital waiting rooms and doctors with masked expressions.

---