Bewitching the Boss by Jessa Kane
Six
Byron
I turn over in bed again and the sheets twist around my waist.
My gaze finds the clock on the bedside table: 2:14 am.
I haven’t slept a minute. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sleep again. Every time I close my eyes, there is Jane. Beautiful and perfect and broken Jane. What happened to her? Why won’t she tell me and let me fix it? Or if I can’t, I can at least prove to her that I’m not going anywhere. There is nothing in her past that would keep me from her. So she was wild in her teens and early twenties? Most people are. Not everyone wants to entrench themselves in academia and gets excited by a line of zeroes and ones.
She’s wonderful exactly as she is.
But she won’t let me in.
All she can offer me is sex. Dirty, no-strings fucking where I basically reduce her to an object. A willing body. She’s made her terms clear and I hate them. I hate anything that makes her feel less than goddamn royalty. I want to worship her. Spoil her. Value her.
There’s a problem, though.
My body wants Jane any way it can get her.
I roll over onto my back and toss aside the sheet, looking down at the sheen of sweat that covers my body. The thick column of my erection. I’ve made it a full day and a half without calling her, but my resolve is thin. There is a part of me that knows when I’m locked up tight inside her wet little pussy, I’ll have no problem calling her trash. Because I’ll be so desperate to make her come that I’ll sacrifice my life, let alone my respect for her. I’ll be out of my mind with the need to gratify her and I’ll say the words, wrap my hand around her throat and just let it happen. I’ll be conflicted afterwards, but at least she’ll be here. With me.
I require Jane here with me. My guilt over breaking my oath is gone. I’ve admitted to myself that my sister would want me to be happy—but I’m far from that now.
I’m ready to tear out my fucking hair.
With a vile curse at the ceiling, I sit up in bed and throw my legs over the side of the mattress, burying my head in my hands. The ceiling fan turns the sweat on my body colder, but I’m too hot, too horny to bring down my internal temperature. I’m on my feet and pacing now, my cock in my hand, stroking it angrily, knowing damn well it won’t help. Nothing helps. When I came home from our disastrous lunch, I humped a couch pillow until I came, pretending Jane was beneath me—and I was erect again in a matter of minutes. Frustrated. Aching.
She’s infiltrated me. Every pore. Every muscle.
I need her. Now.
My pulse begins to tick faster, faster, then speeding out of control when I snatch my phone up off the side table. I’m calling her. I’ve lost the fight with my self-control. With my adoration for her. And it’s a relief. I’ll do what she asks me to do. I’ll be what she needs in bed, even if I worry I’m making something inside of her worse. And I’ll work my ass off getting her to open up. I’ll be persistent. I’ll be there every time she turns around until she knows I’m standing firm. Not going anywhere, no matter what ugly truth she reveals to me.
I hit dial on Jane’s number.
It rings once and stops abruptly, her breath drifting through the connection, the proof of her presence filling my loins with pressure. “Jane,” I say hoarsely, unable to say more.
Her breath comes faster. “You need me.”
“God, yes. Yes. I can’t live like this.”
A sob catches on the other end of the line. “You need me exactly as I am?”
I know what she’s asking me. Will I indulge her kink?
Will I accept a relationship that is purely physical?
I’d say yes to anything to see her right now. Anything. “Yes,” I respond, thickly.
Only two seconds has passed when my house alarm goes off. Loud siren wails pierce the quiet atmosphere of my bedroom. I turn around, frowning at the door leading to the hallway. What in the hell? “Hold on, Jane. Don’t come here yet. It might not be safe.”
“It’s safe,” she whispers in my ear. “Byron, it’s just me.”
My heart starts to pound so fast, I stumble somewhat in the resulting dizziness. “What?”
Am I dreaming?
In a trance, I pull on my briefs, walk to the bedroom door, open it and pass through. I travel through the hallway and take the stairs down, turning off the alarm from the control panel on the wall as I go, leaving only silence behind. When I’m one step away from the foyer, I see her. Standing in the shadows to the right of my open front door. And it all hits me at once, like a complicated formula that finally makes sense.
She has broken into my home.
Jane is stalking me.
She’s been stalking me since the beginning.
All of the email advertisements for her party planning service. Not to mention, the flyers left on the windshield of my Tesla. The way she knew my usual coffee shop. And now…unless she teleported, she must have already been right outside my house when I called her.
She’s been watching me.
She’s stalking me, but she only wants sex?
No.
No, that’s fucking impossible. I’m missing something. What the hell am I not seeing?
I don’t know. I’m going to figure it out—I need to understand Jane to keep her—but right now, all I want is to fuck her brains out. My God, I’m so hard, I can barely stand upright.
Admit it.
You like that she’s stalking you.
Oh my god, I do. It’s almost a relief. I’m not the only one going insane here. Going wild with hunger for her touch and taste and voice and thoughts. A major part of me wants to cross the foyer, fall at her feet and worship her. Kiss every inch of her body and tell her everything is going to be fine. I’m her man and I treasure her, faults and all.
But her conditions for coming here, for being with me, were clear.
I’m not allowed to do any treasuring. No, she requires the opposite. And once again, here I am, trapped in the powerful yen to satisfy her at any cost. Do it.
Don’t give it to her in half measures, either. My Jane gets all or nothing.
Something potent, a lot like power, surges in my blood as I cross the foyer, wrap a hand around her elbow and draw her out of the shadows. She searches my eyes nervously, as if I’m going to throw her out. Scold her. But she rocks back on her heels when she finds my expression purposeful, instead. Intense, steady and purposeful. And it excites her. Arouses her. Even more than the first few times we were together. I’m finally giving in, letting myself conquer Jane, exploit her, and she can barely breathe, she’s so hot for it.
Letting go of her arm, I reach down and strip off her skimpy dress, throwing it aside. When she stands in my cold marble foyer in nothing but a thong and heels, I circle around back of her, watching goosebumps rise on her arms, her shoulders. Watching her thighs squeeze together to keep from trembling. Listening to her breath accelerate.
I wind her hair around my fist, tugging her head back. “Did you bring me a wet pussy?”
A shudder wracks her, those incredible lips popping open on a sawing breath. “Yes.”
“Good.” I make my grip on her hair more forceful and watch her eyes turn glassy, aroused, her nipples rosy and distended. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to make a mess.” I use my foot to separate her ankles and she whimpers, her knees almost collapsing. “That horny thing is going to drip all over my floor, isn’t it?”
After a beat, she nods. “S-sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I bring our faces closer, look her right in the eye. See the plea for more. She’s begging me to keep going and my mouth, my mind, my body obey, dying to satisfy this beautiful being. All or nothing. “You can’t help what you are. Just a little girl who shows up after hours, hoping a man will use her. I bet that mouth is starved for the taste of cock.”
Without waiting for a response, I use my hold on her hair to push her down into a kneeling position, leaving her panting mouth inches from my tented briefs. It takes quite an effort to make this look smooth, because I’ve never gotten a blow job. This is my first one. To say my cock is excited would be an understatement. It’s so hard, my stomach muscles are straining from the intense pressure.
My God. Is this perfect girl really going to suck on it?
Yes.
Her hands lift and flatten on my thighs, rubbing up and down, her bent legs shifting eagerly on the floor. “I’ll m-make it so good.” She tugs down the waistband of my briefs, pressing her open mouth to my length as soon as it’s free, breathing against it, kissing it. “Make me take it deep. Make me.”
With a hoarse sound, I pry open her jaw and cram my dick into her mouth.
“Oh Jesus,” I grit out when I encounter the wet, suckling heat for the first time.
It’s better than I ever could have imagined, the friction of her tongue on those sensitive ridges, the way her saliva makes it easier to stroke me. And Jane looks up at me in this way—dutiful, grateful—and it’s almost too much to handle without coming. But I bear down on my lowest abdomen muscles and hold back, thrusting toward her throat, holding her head steady for it. I bite my lip and fuck her mouth roughly.
“Were you sitting out there in the dark, hoping I’d bring your horny ass inside and put you on your knees? Did your little clit throb thinking about how wide I can stretch these lips?” I have to close my eyes momentarily, the sight of my thickness disappearing into her mouth, inch by inch, is so overwhelming. So hot. Christ, the wet stroking sounds of her hands are nearly enough to end this, send my seed down her constricting throat. “Suck my balls,” I growl, something dark inside of me taking over. Something dominant. I reach down and fist my shaft, holding it up against my stomach while she licks my testicles greedily from below, sucking as much of them between her lips, one by one, leaving them glistening. Hard as diamonds. “That’s the kind of thing a man can only ask a slut to do, isn’t it?”
She breaks away from me with a choked moan, falling back on her ankles looking dazed, overcome, thankful. She palms her pretty tits, teasing the nipples and squeezing. “Yes,” she whimpers, scooting closer, closer on her knees, delivering long, desperate licks to my cock. “Yes. That’s what I am. Use me.”
Oh my God. Oh my God. Any more of this—her tongue, her breathy voice—I’m going to spend all over her face. I can’t even believe this is happening right now. This gorgeous naked woman is kneeling in front of me, looking at my dick like it’s made of pure gold. I don’t understand how I was given this gift, but I’m not squandering it. Not giving up this chance to be everything she needs. Everything her body is craving.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’re going to get used.” I kneel down, whirling Jane around, her knees squeaking on the marble floor. She bends forward, tilting her hips and opening her thighs, letting me see the hidden paradise between her ass cheeks. Lower to where her thong separates the lips of her tight cunt. More than life itself, I want to fall forward and run my tongue all over her. Around the pucker of that back entrance. Down to the source of her wetness. Want to lap at it and gorge myself on her, but my intuition tells me no. Not this time. Reverence is not what she’s hoping for.
She wants to be my means of getting off, nothing more, nothing less.
“Time to get what you came for, you hot, little tramp.” I peel the wet thong down her thighs, grip her hips roughly and yank her backwards toward me, her knees squealing on the marble floor. Her face is reflected back to me in a window across the room, her expression rapturous, and it keeps me going, builds my aggression to a fever pitch.
Jesus, she really does love this. In turn, so do I. I’m not just playing a role now for her sake, I’m inhaling every second. Memorizing every jump of her muscles, every curl of her fingers on the marble.
I take my cock in hand and rub it between her thighs, back and forth over her eager hole, then I ram it deep. So roughly that she screams, her knees leave the floor, before thudding back down. I grip her shoulder in one hand, fist her hair with the other, and I ride her like she’s nothing but willing pussy. And she groans, loving it, those knees sliding ever wider, allowing every inch of me to abuse her, tempting me to go harder. Harder.
“Yeah, you’re a little homewrecker, aren’t you?” My hand on her shoulder slides up to her throat, clutching it, feeling her breaths, her swallows. Her life. “No choice with a body like this. A hole so fucking tight. It’s built to break vows. Turn men into sweaty pigs, don’t you?”
She nods, sobbing, working her hips back to meet my savage thrusts. “More. More.”
Maybe I should be alarmed by how easy the words are coming to me now, but there’s no time to acknowledge that reaction. There is only satisfying Jane. There is nothing else in this world but fucking her. Burying my cock in her snug pussy, over and over and over, my orgasm hovering in my abdomen, waiting for the green light to pop.
“The foyer is the best you can hope for, isn’t it?” I press the side of her face down onto the marble floor, my hips slapping roughly to her jiggling ass. “Girls like you don’t get brought to bed, huh? You get banged where you stand. Fast. Filthy, dirty shit. On your knees in the fucking foyer. That’s what you get, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she chokes out, the inner walls of her sex beginning to clamp and release, signaling how close she is. I remember the signs from last time. Her perfection is engraved on my brain. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, don’t stop, Byron, please.”
“Go ahead.” I fall forward, roughly gathering her hips closer, my chest pressing down to her bare back, my teeth catching her ear lobe and tugging. “Come on it, slut.”
Her body convulses once, twice, and then she shakes violently, her pleasure flooding around my entry point into her cunt, making her feel hot, milky. So goddamn tight and wet that I lose myself. My brain takes a back seat and my body takes charge, rutting Jane from behind in a kind of mindless, starved, animalistic way, grunting and bellowing into her hair until finally, my God, finally, my balls lose the battle and I climax.
“Oh Jesus. Jesus.” I’ve flattened her to the ground now, pumping into her madly, her pleasure puddled beneath us on the floor, making it so we slip up and back, up and back on the marble, squeaking, groaning, the unimaginable pressure in my loins depleting spurt by spurt into her tight sex. “Jane. Mine. Jane is mine.”
“I’m all yours. I’m all for Byron.” She drives her hips back into my final thrusts, baby talking to me over her shoulder and I seem to peak again, again, pleasure emerging from a deep well inside me. Reserved for Jane. “Every little piece of me.”
“Yes,” I say raggedly, finally replete. Finally.
So spent I can barely stay upright.
But I do…because this isn’t over. There’s more. Something important.
Every instinct inside of me is screaming at me to care for Jane. Now. And I do as they say, sitting back and pulling her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her as tightly as they’ll go. Still panting, sweating, I rake my mouth gently through her hair. “Sweet girl. My beautiful girl. You are amazing. You are perfect. Perfect.”
I’m shocked when she stiffens and begins to struggle. “I-I don’t n-need you to do this—”
“I need it, then.” Her struggles cease at that.
I continue stroking her hair, whispering words of praise into her ear. Kissing her cheeks and shoulders and forehead, the storm calming inside of me when she relaxes. And there’s a shift, a subtle change between us that I’m not sure how to read. But with every one of her deepening breaths, I think she starts to trust me. And I have no idea how badly I’d been craving her trust until that moment. When she lets me cradle her to my chest and carry her upstairs toward my bedroom where she belongs.
