Belonging to the Boss by Jenna Rose
Derick
I stayedup half the night wondering if I made a mistake hiring Gracie, letting her into my life and letting her into my heart.
Of course I was only capable of making a different decision in regard to one of those things. Once Gracie was in my life, there was no stopping her. I was powerless. The only way back now would be with a time machine.
Falling for her is my fault, of course. I thought I could blacklist her, hire her, test her and sculpt her like a piece of clay into a strong, powerful woman who could go out there and take the New York City art world by storm. And I thought I could do all that while listening only to my dick. But I was wrong. And now I’m paying the price.
The whole time I was playing Gracie, she was playing me.
She knew what I wanted. But it’s not like I made it much of a secret, standing there in her doorway with a stiffy, eyeballing her the whole time. A starving lion with his eyes on a gazelle wouldn’t have been more transparent. So knowing I had something she needed, and she had something I wanted, she decided to trade—her virginity for a job.
What a sucker.
“You were right, Pops,” I say as I shut off the shower water and grab a towel. “They’re out for my money.”
I check a few e-mails on my phone as I get dressed and head downstairs. Part of me wonders if I’ll find a note saying she’s quit—or just find her gone. She didn’t look too happy last night when I called her out on her little maneuver of trying to get a job out of me.
I’ll have to find a new assistant, but that won’t be a problem. A man this time. That will cut down on any issues in the future.
Part of me wonders if there’s any chance of salvaging this situation. Christ, here I was thinking about finding her a ring – something tasteful, nothing crazy like you see rappers buying their celebrity wives or whatever. I couldn’t picture Gracie wanting something like that anyway—not with her taste.
But now…now I don’t know what to think.
Now I wonder if she would want one of those gaudy rocks so she could divorce me in a few years and then go sell the thing and buy a townhouse on 71st Street and hobnob with the rest of the gold-digging wives who have taken a billionaire for half of what he made.
“Shit,” I growl under my breath as I head to the kitchen. “What a mess—”
I stop dead before I get two steps into the room.
There she is. Gracie, standing at the stove, spatula in hand, working a pan of scrambled eggs. She’s wearing a pair of insanely cute booty shorts that only cover about half of her ass and a crop top with a pair of high socks that make her look like a college co-ed that belongs on a calendar. She glances over her shoulder and smiles.
“Hey, boss. You’re right on time.”
“Right on time?”
“For breakfast,” she giggles. “Unless you’re not hungry.”
Christ, look at her.
Despite everything I’ve been thinking last night and this morning, when I see her standing there, more gorgeous than ever, looking like she’s thrilled to have a chance to please me, I can’t help but get all damn fuzzy inside again.
Shit, what is happening to me? I’ve never been so unable to control myself before. This is bad.
“I’m hungry,” I say simply, not moving a muscle. Gracie simply smiles again and turns back to the stove. I see she’s already chopped the chives, and the bread is in the toaster. She’s also squeezed the orange juice as well.
“Well, that’s good because these are going to be the best eggs with chives on toast you’ve ever had,” she says as the toaster dings. She turns off the stove, plates the bread, and quickly tops it with the eggs then sprinkles the chives over with the delicacy of a chef. I can’t help but smile.
Yeah, I could get used to this.
She starts to take them over to the table, but I help her, taking the glasses. I sit in front of her, not beside her, and watch her as she takes a bite. She smiles, then watches me as I dig into mine.
“Good?” she asks. I nod.
“Good.”
“Thought so.”
I try the orange juice. “Did you put something in this?” I ask, clicking my tongue. Gracie just smiles and looks at me. “Ginger?”
“Yes!” she laughs. “What do you think?”
“Did I ask you to put ginger in my orange juice?” I ask sternly. For a second, she falters, but then lowers her gaze at me and shakes her head.
“Stop,” she laughs. “You almost got me!”
I chuckle and take another sip. “It’s good. And I like the initiative. Just don’t go crazy on me and put cilantro in it or something.”
“Roger.” She nods. “No cilantro in the orange juice. Oh, by the way, I got you twenty percent off that Rothko.”
I stop before taking another bite and examine her expression. “You’re messing with me.”
Gracie shakes her head and smiles with such delight that I can see she’s not; she’s way too proud of herself to be making this up.
“Nope. I was looking at it this morning and saw that the canvas had been damaged on the lower right corner and Linda hadn’t informed me before I agreed on the purchase price,” she explains. “So I snapped a photo and called her immediately.”
A warm feeling spreads through my chest like a proud father. I don’t even try to hide the grin that spreads across my face. She’ll probably interpret it as me being happy that she just saved me 14 million dollars, but really, at this moment, I’m beaming on the inside.
What initiative she’s showing. Linda is no softie. She’s been in the art game for years and does not get pushed around. For Gracie to be able to get that kind of compensation out of her—that says something.
“Well, look at you.” Unable to help myself, I reach across the table and take her hand. It’s soft, warm and feels like a Lego piece designed to snap perfectly into mine. Her face flushes, and she looks away for a moment before bringing her eyes back to mine. I’m a pretty good judge of character—it’s how I got to where I am today—and unless I’m completely love-drunk and off my game, Gracie isn’t faking her feelings for me.
Is it possible that I completely misjudged her comment last night?
When I look at her, I see no end to the possibilities of our lives together. I see her growing into a strong woman who can have the career she wants. I see us engaged, married, having children. I see us traveling all over the globe, hopelessly in love, the romance and fire between us still just as strong as the beginnings of our relationship. And although I hear my father’s voice in my head, warning me about the dangers of women just out for my money, the hunger I feel for Gracie is strong, and I don’t know if I’m able to contain it any longer.
I snatch her by the wrist, and with one arm, brush the plates aside and drag her up onto the table in front of me.
“Derick!” she gasps as I snatch her shorts by the hem and tug them down to her ankles. Something feral has come over me and flares bright red when I expose her pretty pink pussy. Her legs are trembling as I bury my face between her thighs and flatten my tongue against her tender womanhood, finally tasting the sweetness I’ve been fantasizing about for so long.
Instantly, my cock hardens beneath my pants, and although my instinct is to rise up and drive it deep inside of her, I stay where I am and tongue-fuck her sweet hole, coaxing soft moans from her lips as she grasps the table with both hands.
“Oh my-oh my God…”
Gently, with both thumbs, I spread her open and work my tongue higher to her little swollen button. When I apply pressure, she bucks so hard I have to use one hand to press her down again.
“Derick!” she cries out. I smile into her womanhood as I roll my tongue in gentle circles. Clearly no one has ever done this to her, so I’ll go easy.
This time.
I look up just as she tugs her top up and exposes her breasts, two heavenly mountains, above me, and grasps her nipples with both hands, rolling them gently between her thumb and forefinger.
That’s right, baby. You’re close. I know you are.
My cock is ready to tear out of my pants as I apply a bit more pressure. Not enough to overwhelm her—just the right amount to bring her orgasm to fruition. And it only takes a few more seconds before it comes crashing down on her like a runaway freight train.
“I-I-I-I-I’m gonna…” Her voice trails off as her jaw clenches down and her head turns to the side. She slaps the table with one hand and her hips tilt up as she bucks and grinds against my face. I snatch her tiny waist with an iron grip and hold her tight like a little doll, right where she needs to be as she rides my tongue through the crest of her climax. It’s only when I hear her breath release and feel her body begin to relax that I let up.
“Fuck…” she gasps as she slumps back against the table. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is moving slowly like she’s speaking but no words are coming out. I gaze down at her as I tug my pants down and pull out my cock, which is pulsing with uncontrollable arousal. Christ, I could watch her come all day. Nothing in the world has ever turned me on like Gracie’s orgasm, and nothing ever will, that’s for damn sure.
We gasp in unison when I enter her.
Here. This is where I belong.
I snatch her breasts with both hands as I start pumping. Absolute perfection. She’s dripping and extra tight from the orgasm I just gave her. I can barely even move inside her little cunt. I’m not going to be able to last long, but I don’t care. I just got her off, and I’m going to fuck her again later. I’ll have to. I can feel my desperate need for her setting into every nerve in my body as I thrust.
Addiction. That’s what it is. I’m getting addicted to Gracie, and there’s no stopping it.
She whimpers every time I drive my cock into her, stretching her with my thick inches. Normally, I wouldn’t be so rough with her as she’s so fresh, but I can feel my orgasm already rushing up inside of me, and I know it won’t be long before I pop, so I don’t hold back on her.
“Good girl,” I grunt as I lean down and lap her lower lip with my tongue. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she moans. “I’m a good girl for you, Derick.”
“You want my load inside your little pussy?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Tell me you want me to fill your little pussy,” I tell her as my balls slap against her ass.
Lord have mercy on me, this girl is going to be the death of me. My cock is hot. My balls are taut, and I’m grunting like a muscle-bound gym freak maxing out on the bench. It’s a good thing this table is built to support four hundred pounds, or I’d be snapping the legs off it.
“I want you to fill my little pussy,” she tells me in the most angelic voice imaginable.
And that does it.
I bury my nine inches inside her and erupt, flooding her hole with a spray of cum so powerful that it instantly starts spraying out the sides of her pussy and coating her thighs. She cries out with joy, throws her arms around my neck, and tugs me down on top of her.
“Baby! I feel it!”
“Fuck,” I grunt, unleashing pump after pump of my hot seed. So goddamn good. Her pussy clamps down on me, and I bind my mouth to hers with a kiss of passion. I feel her heartbeat against my chest and in her hole and wrap my arms around her and hug her so tightly I have to stop myself from crushing her. Finally, I’m able to come to my senses, and when I open my eyes, I see her staring at me like she’s just had some kind of awakening. And you know what? I think I just may have had one too.
“You are amazing,” she whispers.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s you.”
“Well”—she blushes—“I stand by my statement.”
I brush a piece of stray hair from her face and smile. “Come with me. I have something I want to show you.”
