Think Outside the Boss - Olivia Hayle Page 0,9

leaving me fully naked with a man whose name I don’t even know.

And it’s the most empowering thing I’ve ever done.

There’s no hesitation in his sure movements, the way his lips trace my body from my breast to my hipbone. He pushes my legs apart, settling between them like a ravenous man to a meal.

A muffled word against me, one I can barely make out. Gorgeous.

But then his lips are otherwise occupied, his tongue and mouth trailing blazing fire across my sensitive skin. I gasp as he adds his fingers, circling and spreading.

He closes his lips over the sensitive bud at the apex and I buck against his head, the touch too much, but he doesn’t relent. No, he uses his tongue instead and slides a finger inside of me.

The sweet intrusion is everything. I can’t think around his touch, can’t form words. Everything centers on him, starts and ends with this man between my legs, dedicating himself to the task like I’m the one doing him a favor.

The pleasure starts deep inside me, stoked by his tongue. By the time it reaches my limbs it’s too late. My orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave. It makes my legs clamp down against his back, my hips rising. He keeps going through it all, his tongue turning languorous and slow.

I’m still blinking up at the ceiling when he slides my legs off his shoulders, his hand lazily stroking between my legs. “Wow,” I breathe. “And here I was, planning to rock your world.”

His low, masculine laughter rolls across my skin like silk. “Feeling you come against my lips just did, Strait-laced.”

“I don’t think I’m strait-laced anymore.”

“Well, you’re not wearing anything lacy anymore.” He stands at the foot of the bed and pulls me along with him, until I’m lying right by the edge. I watch as he grabs a condom from his back pocket.

“Another rule,” he says, biting through the packet. “Condoms on, always.”

I swallow at the sight of his length, looking painfully hard. He rolls the condom on in a sure movement. A flash of nerves pass through me. He’s big and it’s been a while.

Large hands stroke my inner thighs apart. “I think…”

“What, gorgeous?” His thumb brushes over my clit and I shiver.

“We’ll have to go slow, I think.”

He cups my head in his hands and kisses me deeply, his tongue soft, stroking perfection against mine. My legs relax on their own, the heavy weight of his erection against my thigh. “Slow it is,” he tells me. “Trust me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

The endearment is so much better than strait-laced, soaking through my defenses. “I do.”

“Good.” He grips himself, stroking up and down along the seam between my legs. We both watch as he pushes in, a breath escaping through his clenched teeth. The sweet burn of his intrusion is real. I hiss out a gasp, turning my head to the side.

“Look at me,” he tells me, gripping my legs so they’re flat against his chest.

I do, biting my lip against the feeling of inch after inch filling me up. He goes slow, until the burn of his length morphs into a different kind of fire.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, buried to the hilt. He closes his eyes. “Fuck, you feel good.”

I open my mouth to respond, but my words turn into a gasp as he starts to move. One thrust. Two thrusts. I fist the comforter and try to hold on as he rolls his hips in deep movements.

I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked this deeply before.

“Do you know how good you feel inside me?” I ask him, reaching up to cup one of my breasts in a hand. His hooded eyes trace the movement, a growl falling from his lips as I flick my own nipple.

Give him the best sex of his life, Freddie, I remind myself. Everything about this man demands that others around him rise to his level, and I’m no different.

His hips slam into mine, and I know the training wheels are off now. “Yes,” I moan, arching my back. “Please… give it to me.”

His breath hisses out and then I’m half-lifted off the bed, his hands supporting my hips. I gasp at the intensity of the new angle. He’s so deep, so deep, and I tell him that.

His answering chuckle is dark with pleasure and pride. “So you’ll feel me,” he groans. “So you’ll remember me.”

The idea that I wouldn’t is ridiculous, that this won’t become a glorified memory in my mind. He looks