Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(91)

“Is your condo by work?” My nipples pebbled against my shirt and I swallowed, wondering how I could give a hint without being too forward.

“Downtown. Ten minutes from the office.” His eyes flickered between me and the road ahead of him. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He tilted his head from side to side as if to release some tension from his neck.

“In a high-rise?” I’d bet he owned the penthouse suite.

“No. House. I own a three-story flat. I live on the top floor.”

“You have a house in downtown Chicago?” The money this man had access to was Christian Grey–worthy.

“We own the building I live in. It’s right by Michigan Avenue.” His voice was guttural and low. “Do you want to see it?” He visibly swallowed, but his face didn’t give anything away.

I sucked in my bottom lip, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

He was my boss. Was I really going to do this?

Staring at his profile, I knew I was. Not only because I was horny, but also because I liked him—Brad, the guy who had planned the Harry Potter date, the man who had lied to all my friends to be my date for the wedding, the man who radiated strength and kindness and drew me in like a magnet.

“Okay?” He didn’t sound convinced. “If you’re tired, I can … I can take you home.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s early anyway.”

A noticeable tension filled the silence and spread through the tight space. It was like we both knew what we wanted, but neither was willing to say it out loud. I tried to dim the dizzying current racing through me but couldn’t.

He linked our fingers and kissed my inner wrist, right by the pulse, and the intimate gesture sent shock waves of desire straight down my thighs. His touch lit me up like a live wire.

I’d never been the aggressive type in my prior relationships because, like all men, they’d taken the lead, but I knew Brad was playing it safe, taking it slow with me, and I was done with slow.

I rested our hands on my upper bare thigh, and the air was sucked from the car. The electricity between us was undeniable and thick in the air.

The pulse on his neck ticked, ticked, ticked away. He eyed me when we were stopped at a red light. He rubbed circles on my thigh, slow at first and inching higher as though he were testing to see how far he could go.

When my right leg fell to the side, his fingers trailed up farther until I was pushing the seat back and angling toward him.

His eyes were on the road the whole time, and if it weren’t for the deep breaths escaping him and his hard length pressing against his pants, I wouldn’t even guess he was barely holding it together.

When his fingers grazed the edge of my panties, my eyes locked with his hooded ones when we were stopped at a light. I bit my bottom lip, watching as his fingers slipped past my underwear, touching the light patch of trimmed hair. When he slipped a finger between my folds, my right arm braced the car door when the light turned green.

My breathing increased in tempo to match the movement of his fingers making circles around my clit and then pumping into me, fast and steady.

I moved against him, against the sensual friction, yet it wasn’t enough.

This man had endless talent—to drive and finger-fuck me and keep his eyes on the road the whole time. It was deliciously erotic.

I’d never done anything like this before—foreplay in the car. Hell, I’d never had sex in a car or any other place other than a bed.

When he extracted himself from inside me, he placed the two fingers that had previously been in me in his mouth and sucked.

Then, we were plunged into darkness as we entered a small tunnel and into a garage spot where the overhead light shone a dim glow on his hungry face.

Within seconds, I was unbuckled, and he reached over to pull me to straddle him on the driver’s side. He kissed me with unrelenting passion, threading his fingers through my hair and tugging slightly. The pain shot straight between my legs. My blood was boiling with lust, and my body ached for release.

We were all tongues and breaths and passionate kisses, hot, horny, and hungry for each other.

“I want to taste all of you,” he panted, chucking off my robe, unbuttoning my top, and kissing my neck. He sucked my neck, licking a path down to my collarbone and up to the shell of my ear again. “You taste amazing, Sonia. I need more.” Soft, urgent caresses went underneath my shirt, his fingertips undoing my white cotton bra. I hadn’t been expecting to get laid tonight or else I would’ve worn my matching lacy do me ensemble.

But I was beyond reason to stop him and too horny to care.

He pushed my bra to my neck and cupped my breasts with both hands, his thumbs playing with my nipples. His lips were on my neck and then went lower and lower until he took one breast in his mouth. I bucked, feeling the warmth of his tongue against my sensitive nipple.

I reached for his hair and rode him, wet underwear against his hardness. The tightness in my gut was in double knots, triple Boy Scout knots, and I needed a release so badly.

I rubbed against him, feeling friction against my clit, needing the contact to send me over. When he lifted me by my waist and the contact was lost, I was a madwoman.

“Wait.” I was a panting, aroused mess. “Brad …” I begged, peering down at him.

He pushed a finger in me. One. Two. And three.

“So fucking wet.”