Page 43 of Bossing My Holiday
“Stop your brain, Waverly. I didn’t mean to wake you up like this. It was a surprise to me too. But it’s good practice, right? We have to feel comfortable being physically intimate with each other.”
I blink at the wall. “Is that what we’re doing? Practicing?”
“Absolutely. We’re practicing our fake relationship.” His nose dives into the back of my neck and into my hair, where he takes a deep inhale that makes me shudder. “And I think it’s important we get it right.”
“You do?” I lick my lips. Why am I asking him that? It’s his dick in my ass. Or against it. Whatever. It’s confusing things because it’s so close to my pussy, and a hard dick hasn’t been close to anything down there in years. Plus, his apology last night messed with my head a bit. I could see how upset he was, and then everything he said to me after…
More confusion.
Then there’s Braxton and what I did with him yesterday. He made me come on the sofa while Tristan listened from inside this room. I let one boss make me come, and now the other has his dick sorta rubbing things and I don’t know what’s happening.
The things they’ve been saying…
His hand starts to slide up my stomach but stops at the base of my ribs just below my breasts, and I wish he didn’t do that. It’s giving me time to reconsider, which I suppose is his point, but don’t give me time to reconsider, Tristan! I don’t want smart, level-headed Waverly, who hates her boss right now. I want the girl who is getting quasi-felt up by a hot guy who seemingly wants her. Who called me the heartbeat he stopped allowing himself to have.
His lips plant into the crook of my neck, and he shifts closer to me. “I do. I think it’s so important. But more than that, I’m having a difficult time keeping my hands to myself and off your body.”
I blink and then blink again, a smile curling straight up my lips that I know he can’t see. “You are?”
“It’s impossible. You smell so good, and your skin is so soft and warm. Can I just…” Without explaining further or truly asking permission, his hand creeps up and cups my bare breast. He hisses out an expletive, and I feel his forehead plant against the back of my head.
“You okay back there?” I tease, my teeth sinking into my lip, so I don’t moan. Especially when his hand starts to knead and play with me.
“You have no idea how perfect you feel.”
“Tell me about it then.”
He laughs. It’s strained. “Waverly, you’re testing me, and I’ve just broken through the ice and plunged into certain death.”
“And freezing your balls off.”
Another strained laugh. “Yes. But shockingly I wasn’t sent to hell. This is heaven for sure. Brax was right about this.” He squeezes me, lifting it in his hand before he pinches and pulls my nipple. “Can I kiss you, Waverly?”
My eyes snap shut, and I stifle a sound. He just asked if he could kiss me. And why is that so sweet and yet sexy?
“You want to?”
A pained noise from the back of his throat vibrates into my ear. “You have no idea how much.”
He rolls me so I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. His black hair is sleep-mussed and tousled, and his blue eyes are dark and half-massed. I saw him shirtless yesterday after his shower, and remembering that, I wish I had a better visual of him now. His shoulders and arm muscles are thick and bunched, and I can’t help myself as I slide my hands up his arms to feel them.
“You’re so pretty. So achingly pretty,” he whispers, his gaze flittering around my face. “I’m going to kiss you, and I won’t be able to stop.”
“What about Braxton?”
He smirks. “This is what he wants too.”
Before I can formulate a response, or better yet, come to my senses and tell him no, his lips descend upon mine, and any argument I had cooking is ruined by the heat of his mouth and the firm press of his lips on mine. He groans, and his hand slides up into my hair so he can tilt my head and slip his tongue inside.
It sets off something inside me, and I kiss him back, deepening it, wanting more of him.
He shifts so he’s directly over me and then on me, pressing me down into the mattress with his delicious size, heat, and weight. The thick ridge of his cock hits my mound, but I need more than that, so I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses into me, kissing me harder, moving his tongue faster as he starts to grind into me.
I moan, the sound jarring somehow, and I abruptly tear myself away. He pulls back, startled and cautious, staring wordlessly down at me as he waits for me to tell him to stop.
“This is fake, right?” I don’t know why I ask. Maybe because this is still Tristan Ouest and Tristan Ouest is my boss and he’spaying me a lot of money and if this isn’t fake anymore then I’m in serious trouble because I think I’m starting to like him and I already like his best friend. And at the thought of the money, I feel a bit like a whore, so…
