Page 41 of Sexy Bad Boss

“Amazing.”

“So much,” she says, trying to resist my efforts to keep the pace at a casual walk during which we can explore and sightsee, rather than a sprint to the finish line.

“Not gonna last,” I grind out, clenching my teeth because my balls are pulling up tightly against my body and her muscles are milking me and I’m going to lose it if she doesn’t slow down. “Myra. Oh God.”

She does this little shimmy, and my eyes cross as lightning zips through my veins and floods my cock and I can’t hold back any longer. Wrapping my arm around her back, I clutch her shoulder and slam her against my body over and over. Her tits are bouncing like mad and she’s threaded one hand in my hair while the other scratches down my back. The trigger causes me to explode; I swear we’re both hovering in mid-air for a moment before I collapse back against the chair, my breathing ragged, my heart pounding, my entire freaking body singing like I’ve just experienced an orgasm for the first time in my life.

She drapes over me, her head on my shoulder, her arms hanging over the sides of the wheelchair. Her heart is beating the same crazy staccato as my own. After a few moments, she hums and then murmurs, “I want to do that again.”

***

With Myra still in my lap, I manage to wheel us to the bathroom, and then she helps me into a standing position so I can hobble my way to the shower.

She joins me, of course. We’re both dirty, right?

I lean against the tile and leisurely soap her up, my slick hand sliding over her breasts, down between the valley, my nails scraping along her ribcage and then around to her ass. I massage, smoothing up to her shoulders and then down again, cupping one of those perfect half-moons.

She isn’t standing passively, taking what I give her. Not Myra. Her hands are on me, too, sliding over my shoulders, my pecs, her fingers tweaking my flat, brown nipples. Then she glides down, following the narrow, dark trail of hair leading to the Promised Land. Or at least to a very eager erection, which promises to give her all the pleasure she might desire.

When I whisper those words, she laughs, the sound musical and sweet, bouncing off the tile and pulling a chuckle from me, too. Our laughter turns to groans and moans as her hands find my cock, and my workable fingers slip between her folds. The purpose of the shower is forgotten as she strokes me and I finger-fuck her until her orgasm combined with the feel of her hands spurs my own.

I don’t let her turn away this time. I cup her chin and kiss her, a gentle brush of my lips against hers, and when I open my eyes, she’s staring at me, unblinking, and I almost ask her to stay, to not quit and leave me…I mean, the firm. Hell, I really mean me. I don’t want her to leave my house, let alone my employ.

But the moment calls for quiet, so I simply smile. I swear I see the shimmer of tears before her lashes drop to sweep her cheeks. I must be imagining it, though. We’re in a shower, after all.

Eventually, we manage to get clean, just about the time the water is cooling, so Myra twists off the taps and snags towels for us. After she’s wrapped the towel around her torso and run a comb through her hair, she says, “Well, good night.”

I snag her wrist and pull her back toward me. “Sleep with me. On the couch.” I’m not ready for this moment to end. Not yet.

“But Abby’s upstairs.”

“She’s fine. The cat’s with her.”

“I’m not sure a feline is quite qualified to be a babysitter.”

I scowl. “Go check on her, then. And grab a pillow. Then come have a slumber party with me.” My lips lift into a wolfish grin. The image of her lying atop me, her legs cradling me, her breasts pillowed against my chest, makes me hard again.

She hesitates, but not for long. With a shake of her head, she darts up the stairs, returning a few moments later wearing her sexy pink robe and carrying a pillow from my bed. “Abby’s sound asleep and Simon is curled up at her side.”

“Told you. Now, come here.” I made my way to the couch while she was checking on Abby. Lifting my legs, I stretch out the length of the cushions and raise my arms, beckoning her.

She pauses when she reaches the side of the couch. “How do you expect us both to fit on that thing?”

“We’ll have to be really, really close.”

Her lips curl as her gaze rakes over my body, which I’ve conveniently left unclothed. You know, just in case. And then she tugs on the sash and her robe falls open, revealing that body I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of. Grasping her hand, I pull her closer, until she climbs on top of me, lying down with her cheek pressed to my chest.

“This is surprisingly comfortable,” she says.

“Is it? I’d think that thing pressing into your belly might be a tad uncomfortable.”

She grins and wiggles her hips.

I groan. “I’m starting to think you want another round.”

“You’re quite astute, James Frost.”

Cupping the back of her thigh with my good hand, I pull her legs apart, positioning her so my cock is nestled against her pussy, her wetness coating me, preparing me. With almost no maneuvering, I’m pressing into her, groaning as she shifts her hips to take me deeper.

I let her manage the pace. I don’t have a choice, really. Or maybe I don’t want it. Because when Myra is riding me, her nails digging into my chest, her eyes half-closed, her mouth slightly open, she’s so beautiful it steals my breath. My impending orgasm is secondary at the moment. All I want to do is stare up at her, to drink in her beauty, to paint a picture in my mind so I can conjure it any damn time I please.

Oh hell. I can actually feel myself falling into that place I don’t quite understand. I think I know what it means, although I’ve never been here before.

While it’s true I’ve never been given the chance, I never wanted it before either. Because the women who came before her, they weren’t Myra.

They didn’t laugh like her or dress like her. They didn’t tell me what to do the way she does, without any concern that I’m actually the boss in our relationship. They weren’t here for me, even when I didn’t know I needed it. They didn’t help me build such an impressive corporate empire that I could will pieces of it to each and every family member and they’d all be millionaires. No one else in my life has been unfailingly faithful, even when I didn’t deserve it but especially when I needed it.

They never got to know me, the person behind the corporate empire. But Myra has. Despite my efforts to keep our relationship on a strictly professional level, she’s managed to become my best friend, my confidant, someone I need in my life.

And now she’s my lover, despite the fact we work together, and we really shouldn’t have moved our relationship to this level.

But in a little more than a week, she won’t be my admin anymore. Which means we’re free to pursue whatever’s happening between us. Maybe her leaving the company is exactly what we needed—what I needed—to realize I couldn’t live without her. And I don’t mean as my assistant. I mean as my partner.

My life partner.

Oh hell, that means I’m stuck with Alex as my admin, doesn’t it?