Page 58 of Bobby

“Look at me.”

He holds my throat until I feel my eyes start to roll back in my head. Only then does he release me, and I swear I come all over again. That’s when I feel the true power behind him, as he pumps into me over and over until he growls out his release and collapses on top of me.

I’m still too lost in my own blissed-out mind to care about taking full breaths, just a few sips of air as he slows his own breathing. Who knew breath play would be my kink? I sure as hell never thought it could be pleasurable, and yet here I lie with barely enough room to take a full, steadying breath, and I relish it as a shiver racks my body with an aftershock of such an intense orgasm.

Then his mouth, that amazing mouth of his, is taking what little air I have away as he kisses me again while rolling us until I’m on top of him, my hair falling around us in a cocoon of just him and me.

He slips free from me, and I feel our combined essence slide between us, but he doesn’t cease his attack on my mouth. And I secretly love that our mess doesn’t revolt him like those in my past, who seemed to be freaked out about it. I’m not saying I want to roll around in our juices for hours on end, but this, this cuddling—slow caresses and kisses after? Totally worth the stickiness between us.

I’ve never kissed a man this much. It’s as if he’s starved for this with the way he keeps taking my lips. I’m not complaining, just taking note after note of everything he does that makes me realize he’s better than I could have ever imagined.

I slow my hunger for his lips, as does he, before I pull back just a little.

His eyes take in all of me as his hands sweep over my face, caressing my neck.

“Did I hurt you?” His gaze travels around my neck before looking back at me.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head, keeping my eyes on him. I want him to see the truth, and I’m not just placating him. Something I bet he gets a lot of in his life. With me, he’ll get the truth. Good or bad, he’ll get it.

There’s so much more we could say to each other. Maybe more we should say. But as the storm continues to rage on, locking us in candlelight darkness, neither of us voices it. Instead, I sink back into him, letting his lips part and take my tongue as I push it into his mouth before stirring the embers once more that settled but didn’t die.

We allow the spark to ignite fully again as we make love for hours, continuing into the dead of the night until the storm has long passed. Only then do we lie spent in each other’s arms as we slumber for a few short hours, cuddled together in a full embrace from the time we close our eyes to when we wake. To a morning that isn’t rushed, as we eat breakfast and change before taking a car back home.

It’s only when we’re stuck in traffic that our time together starts to feel awkward. For me, at least.

I don’t know what to do. How to act after. I was always dating a man before we took this step. I’ve never been “just friends” before, nor had an affair with someone in my office before. Especially not someone I work directly for.

I might have lived a lifetime because I’m a mother to two amazing little girls, but with this, I’m almost like a teenager. Do I ask Bobby if we’re dating? Do I assume we are? Or was this just a one-time thing?

Biting my bottom lip, I glance out of the side of my eye. Bobby has been busy on calls almost the entire time since we got into the car. Marco doesn’t look at me differently as he drives us, but I feel as if he knows. It seems as if there’s an undercurrent in the air.

I try to keep myself busy on my computer. It is a workday, after all. And while we had planned to leave this morning, it was later than expected. Mostly because Bobby made sure we were able to secure new clothes for ourselves to go to the office right away, since he said he needed to be on-site for a few meetings later this afternoon.

Last night and this morning seem like a bubble that was popped the moment I spoke to the girls and our clothes arrived. We dressed quickly, and then it was out the door and meetings started for him. I don’t think I’m needed. Not in a clingy way, but I almost feel like I got the best of Bobby last night, only to have it stripped away from me.

It’s just your insecurities. Relax. We might have spoken pretty words of forever last night, but that doesn’t define you. You’re a grown woman who had an amazing night. Don’t let your crazy brain ruin the memory because he isn’t all over you at the moment.

I take a breath and shake my head before nodding at my words. She’s right. Or I am. God, talking to myself in my head gets complicated sometimes.

Last night was one of the best nights of my life, except for when I held each of my girls in my arms for the first time. Just because it’s not ending with us at a wedding chapel doesn’t mean I need to hang my head low. So I slept with my boss. Who cares? He’s also my neighbor, and landlord, and the person paying for my girls’ school and keeping me from living on the streets….

Oh shit, this is bad.

I want to smack my head against a wall to stop the spinning from my brain changing its mind so quickly, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. It’s better if I become invisible and all aspects of me fade from Bobby’s mind enough that he doesn’t think he needs to take all the things away that he gave me and my girls.

I jump when a hand grabs mine, then roll my eyes at myself. The only other person in the town car is Bobby, and he knows my body more intimately than I do. I should not be jumping at his touch.

But he ignores my flinch and brings my hands to his, kissing my knuckles a moment before setting our clasped hands on his leg.

We both have our laptops on our laps, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade him from keeping my hand firmly in his. I wonder if he’ll let go, but he soon starts typing a message with his other hand as he bends his neck to hold his cell phone to his ear with his shoulder as he speaks.

I smile. It might not be a diamond ring or flowers, but he’s making a statement. The man who is all business is making me a part of his world while doing what he needs to.

It eases the unwelcome ache in my chest as I type out my own email one-handed.

The rest of the car ride seems to go by faster than the first half. I might have done less than a tenth of the work I was doing when I had two hands, but I enjoyed it a million times more.

When we pull up to the building, Bobby exits and waits with a hand out to help me out. I go to walk by, but he tugs me back, wrapping his other hand in my hair and pulling my face close.