Page 14 of Marked By my Boss
I haven’t heard him come into the house yet, but he sneaks up at my desk all the time without me hearing. God, he could do that here too. Maybe that’s why it excites me. I’m in his bed, touching myself, and he could walk in any second. He could see the whole damn thing. My bare breasts, my spread legs, my hot pink pussy.
What am I thinking?I need to stop. I need to get up. I need to stop letting my hormones control me and lock myself in the bathroom like a proper lady would. Instead, I keep touching myself, trapping moans behind my hand, wondering what he’d do to me if he found me here in his bed touching my clit.
Would he pin me down, fuck me hard, punish me like he did in my dream? He sort of strikes me as the eye contact type. The type that thrives on connection.
My legs tense and I twist my finger faster and harder, riding the edge of an orgasm as the door creaks open.
No, the door can’t be creaking open! I must have heard something else!
I freeze, hand still pressed between my thighs, breath caught mid-moan. My heart slams against my ribs as I whip my head toward the doorway, praying that I’m hearing things.
My heart drops into my stomach.
I’m not hearing things!
Beau stands there, backlit by the hallway light, his expression unreadable. For a second, neither of us moves.
The silence is deafening.
His eyes lock onto mine, then flick down before snapping back. I see the tension rippling through him, his jaw tightening, his fingers curling at his sides like he’s holding back, though I can’t tell if he’s angry or aroused.
It’s probably anger. He’s my boss, he’s helping me, and now I’m lying in his bed masturbating like some horny, little weirdo.
I really didn’t think this through! There’s no way in hell he doesn’t fire me now! I can’t lose my job! I have a baby on the way!
My God, what have I done!
“I—” He stops, attempting to collect himself. His voice is rough like gravel as he says, “I didn’t mean to.”
I scramble, yanking the blanket up, heat flooding my face. “I thought you were outside,” I whisper.What a terrible excuse.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches me with that same unreadable look, like he’s trying to decide whether to step forward or disappear.
Then he quietly says, “You don’t have to hide from me.”
And just like that, the air shifts. Not with judgment, not with shame, but with something heavier. Something that could tip either way, and I’m not sure how to handle any of it.
Chapter Eight
Beau
Fucking hell, what’s happening?
The woman of my dreams, the woman I’ve been fantasizing about for years, is lying in my bed touching herself. I saw her heavy round breasts and heard her sounds.
She glances down at my hard cock and up again as though she’s trying not to notice, but it’s there, and it’s noticeable.
“You don’t need to hide from me,” I say again, walking further into my room. I have no fucking clue what I’m about to do, but my body and my mouth move until I’m on the edge of my bed, sitting next to her naked frame.
Her cheeks pink as she stares up at me. “I’ve been really horny with this pregnancy. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry. I—”
“Shh,” I whisper, my voice low and steady.
Her eyes are wide, vulnerable, searching mine for judgment and finding none.
I reach out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed cheek. Her skin is warm, her breath shallow. She doesn’t pull away.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I say, softer now. “You’ve been through hell. If this is how you find comfort, I’m not here to take that from you.”
