Page 9 of Older Hotter Grumpier
Ohhhh… I melt. Sure, he’s said that before, and yeah, I melt every time. But right now? What does he mean? The cover-up, or what came before? I don’t have the opportunity to ask, as he pulls open the door wide, revealing a harassed-looking receptionist and a stack of at least ten large packages, including several dress bags.
I goggle at the pile and look at Mr Blackwood.
And I swear, my grumpy boss, for the first time since I have known him, smirks.
4
RAFE
I’m outside her apartment before seven. Fuck, I’m eager as a teenage boy to see her, and begin our evening together.
Watch her come again, too. Surely I can persuade her to do that? Then it’s just a skip and a jump to being my wife and having my children. Simple.
Ella touching herself was so insanely hot. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as her face overtaken by pleasure.
I’d say that was the best thing I’ll ever see, but I know having her closer, on my cock, coming from me stroking her and thrusting into her, would be even better.
She might have gotten off on the taboo of wanking in the office, but I’m still her older boss. Need to invest in one of those age-reversal cons. Maybe time travel? Whatever it would take to convince Ella that she’s meant to be with me.
In the absence of implausible technology, I’m currently thinking of numerous orgasms, spoiling her rotten, and getting her used to the idea of being my bride by the very subtle means of pretending we’re already in a relationship. Maybe she just won’t notice if I never stop?
It’s a dark, cold, crisp winter’s evening and above the blue-orange glow of London’s lights, there are stars as I decide it doesn’t matter if I’m early, I’m going to get my girl, when she emerges from the front door.
I’m sent flying.
Not literally, but I might as well be. Ella is wearing the dress I chose for her, a long silky purple thing that takes my breath away. Her blonde hair is down in waves over her shoulders and my imagination leaps right to that hair wrapped around my fist.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I approach in swift steps, unable to wait patiently, and she gives me that tentative smile. “You were right. It fit.”
Of course it did. I’ve spent enough time looking at her to be sure of every measurement… Some might say stalking her. Following her home on the few days I don’t drive her myself. Sitting outside her apartment, sometimes all night. “Do you like it?”
She bites her bottom lip and nods, and my cock throbs.
It’s all I can do to help her into the car like a gentleman rather than unleash the beast raging beneath my skin. It’s pure possessive instinct.
“Do I look okay?” she asks as the limo pulls away.
“You look almost perfect.”
“I’ll take it,” she replies sheepishly. “I do my best, but—”
“I won’t.”
“Oh.” Her face drops. “Sorry, I can—”
I grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger, and tilt her face up to mine. Such big eyes. She’s the most delicious little morsel and I want to eat her up, cunt first.
“I don’t date.”
“No. I understand.” But she doesn’t, because she looks sad and confused. “I won’t do anything to commit you. You’re a powerful billionaire boss—”
“Ella. Secrets.” It’s public knowledge, but no one says it about the more refined mafias of London. It’s a taboo that can get you killed. It nearly did get me killed once or twice when I was Ella’s age.
“Yes, boss.”
“Good girl.” She smiles shyly and my heart beats like percussion as I draw the box from my jacket pocket and present it to her. Small, black. Obviously a ring box. “This is what is missing from your outfit.”
