The Boss Crush - Penny Wylder Page 0,55

my shaft. I'm hard as rock and my cock swells and throbs with my pulse.

“There's nothing to prove, Lyle.” Her voice is a gust of air as she looks back at me over her shoulder. Her lids are half open, lips wet and dewy as she licks them. She's rubbing her ass up and down, her body in charge, and refusing to take any orders from her brain.

This game isn't new, it's one we've played before. I'm the cat, she's the mouse. Only this time, this little mouse wants to get eaten.

Running a devastatingly slow hand up her spine, her back bows, and her eyes snap shut. “There's always something to prove, Dalia.” Jerking my hips, I make sure she feels my cock. “Always.”

She lets out a soft groan as I wrap one hand around the back of her neck, and grip her ass with the other. She's mine now. All of her. And she's loving every touch, every word, everything about this moment.

This power, this power is everything.

Pushing her down further so her tits hit the top of my desk, her arms splay out, causing a few items to crash to the floor. I ignore it, but Dalia doesn't. Dalia's eyes follow one of the picture frames, she studies it for a single second. It's a fleeting glance, but it must settle inside her uncomfortably.

Throwing her body upright, she shoves me off her, and runs her hands over her head, brushing her hair back with her fingers. “I really should get back to work.” She smiles meekly, bolting for the door and disappearing before I can do anything to stop her.

What the fuck just happened? What was that?

Stroking my jaw, I stare at the open door. She's gone. She left so quickly it's almost like she was never even here.

Walking around to the side of my desk, I pick up the picture. It's the one of me and Sandy at our graduation. Wiping the glass surface, I set it back and drop into my seat. I blankly stare at the image, running a single finger across the top of the frame.

“Knock, knock.” I lift my head and see Sandy in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Rolling a hand in the air, I sink lower into my chair. “Come on in. Not that you really need my permission anyway.”

Her hands fall to her sides as she strolls in slowly. One foot in front of the other, toe to heel, toe to heel, stopping at a picture of me back in high school. I'm in my football uniform, huge smile on my face, not a care in the world.

I miss those days. The ones where the only problems had to do with who liked you and what brand of clothes you had.

Sandy smiles, taking it off the wall to hold it. “You remember this day?” she asks, pointing down at it. I nod, because of course I do. It's my picture. “You were so happy to win that game. It was your first—”

“My first time as lead quarterback, yeah, I remember, Sandy.”

“Geeze, what's gotten into you?” She sets the picture down and comes to sit right on the edge of my desk. Cupping her hands in her lap, she smiles as she asks, “What's wrong?”

Twisting in my chair, I turn to face her. “I. . .” I'm about to tell her but change my mind. “It's nothing, forget it.”

“No, really, you can tell me, Lyle. Does it have to do with Dalia?”

Flicking my eyes up to hers, I watch her for a moment to see if she's actually listening or if this is another one of her listening acts. Frowning, I nod, and rest my hand on my chin.

“Lyle, Lyle, Lyle, when are you going to learn?” Sandy asks with a smile. “That girl has always had a way of screwing with you, even when we were younger. You were always just too thick headed to see it.”

“So you do remember who she is?”

“Of course I remember who she is, I've hated her since the first time I met her.” She laughs like there's a joke in there somewhere. I don't laugh, and she notices. “Come on, Lyle. . .” She lets my name linger in the air as she stands up from the desk and moves behind me.

Her hands slide over my shoulders and she starts to massage deep into the muscle. “You're so tense, you need to relax.” She works her fingertips, moving them down my back. They slip