Page 62 of The Boss I Can't Stand
“Me how?” he asked, finding my nipple and pinching it between his fingers.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Inside me, Finn. I want you to fuck me.”
“As you wish,” he growled, giving me a cheeky smile.
I almost rolled my eyes at him, but then he lined up and I sank down on him, ending all rational thought. I moaned as he filled me, the stretch intoxicating.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes raking over me as I adjusted to him. I could feel his stare, and goosebumps prickled across my skin. His hands held my waist, tightening as he started to glide me up and down his cock.
“Do you know how often I’ve thought about this?” he growled. “How often I’ve thought about filling you like this?”
I groaned again at his words as he fucked up into me, making me feel so deliciously full.
“You’re perfect,” he said, nipping at my earlobe before latching onto my neck with his lips and sucking.
“Don’t leave marks,” I bit out, my head starting to spin with pleasure.
“I need to remind people whose fiancée you are,” he muttered against my neck.
Oh fuck.PR plan be damned. This man could do whatever he pleased as long as he kept making my head spin like that.
“That’s it,” he said as my movements grew uncoordinated. Jerky. “Take what you want, Sierra.”
Sparks of pleasure swirled somewhere deep, somewhere even Finn couldn’t reach, and suddenly they were shooting out of me, and I was trembling around him, my walls contracting so hard Finn groaned, thrusting up into me a few more times before growing still, latching onto my thighs as he came undone.
I slumped against him, my arms looped around his neck.
Holy fuck, I thought as we came back to our senses. Ro was never going to believe this.
22
SIERRA
“Did you see the photo of the two of you?” Ro asked, her voice crackling through the speaker on my phone.
“Which one?” I said, delicately threading two pieces of lace together at the kitchen island in Finn’s condo. Finn and I were either plastered across some tabloid or part of some viral behind-the-scenes Hollywood blog post at least once a week, partly in thanks to Jillian’s PR plan, but partly because we’d actually had more time lately toparticipatein said plan.
The hardest part about costuming movies was definitely the grind. The days were long and jampacked with repairs and alterations and catastrophes like Shaw’s washing machine incident, which we were fondly calling Shreadageddon now.
That didn’t leave a lot of time for faking a relationship for the masses. But with filming scheduled to wrap next month and fewer characters left to do principal photography, the day did eventually come when all that work started to slow down. Usually, that was when it was time to move on and start thinking about my next contract.
But even though the bulk of my costuming work was completed, I was nowhere near done withEvery Day, thanks to the fake engagement.According to Jillian’s plan, there were still many more interviews to come in the lead-up to the Oscars to keep the buzz about us and the movie fresh.
“It circulated onRumorzlast night!” Ro said excitedly.
“Ah, yes, good old Milli.” She was Finn’s least favorite person in the world, but he was currently in her good books, so who were we to complain?
“AndUS Weeklypicked it up this morning!”
“Shut up! Really?” Even I knew a big magazine when I heard it. I tied off my next stitch, examining the lace. The one blessing to winding down at the costume shop was that I had more time to catch up on the work I’d been neglecting, namely a large Sultry Stitches order for the Scarlet Parlor—a burlesque club in downtown LA that gave me work.
Then there was my mother’s ever-evolving wedding gown. I’d just been informed that she no longer wanted cap sleeves, but full-length lace sleeves to match the lace in the bodice.
“I am literally standing in the grocery store and staring at your faces right now!” Ro exclaimed. “God, you two look so hot.”
“We’re on the front page?”
“Yes! I’m buying a copy. Actually two. I’m gonna frame one and hang it on the wall.”
