My Boss’s Secret by Taryn Quinn

Five

What wasI doing on my wild, freewheeling, sexually-liberating vacation?

Perching on the side of the claw-footed tub made for two and whispering into the phone to Luna, since Ryan was not home. I’d called twice and gotten voicemail both times.

What happened to being there for your bestie? She should be home from work by now. Which yes, she was actually working at my job for me this week, so technically, she’d done plenty for me already, but I needed more right now. These were desperate times. And I couldn’t ask my grandmother because she’d be like “hell, yeah, give it a go, shake those tatas!”

My tatas had already been shaken plenty. For strangers was something entirely different.

Um, hello, the guy outside in his boxers talking to the masseuses while you freak out is a stranger too, Einstein.

“How’s vacation? Are you getting a tan? Though that probably would take longer than a week, huh?”

I snorted. “You know all I do is burn. Where’s Ryan? I called her twice, and she’s not home.”

“Oh. Hmm. Well…”

“Lu?”

“It’s a story,” she hedged.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s very fine. Like the kind of fine we all aspire to. Her energy is a little chaotic at the moment, but I have faith that she will balance the scales. If not, I’ll kick his ass.”

I set my teeth. When both of your besties were witches, and you were so not, you had to get used to lots of woo-woo talk. I had to admit some of it was even fascinating. But not right now when I had to act a whole heck of a lot more confident than I actually was.

“Whose ass? What are you talking about?”

“Ohhh. So she didn’t tell you anything at all? Ohhh.”

Normally, I would have felt a prickle of irritation that they’d discussed something I did not know about yet. I understood logically that they’d been close before I became the third spoke of our trio, and that meant they’d probably always share secrets I wasn’t privy to. But it still stung sometimes. For once, I wanted to be someone’s first choice.

For it to be real and to last.

“Whatever it is, I’ll find out in a few days.”

“You sure will,” Lu said ominously. “So, tell me all about your tropical vacay. Please tell me you got some hottie beach ass. Minus the sand fleas.”

I didn’t even laugh. “When you get a massage, do you get naked?”

“What?”

I repeated the question.

“Sure, if the energy feels right. My practitioner is also a Reiki—”

“Lu, regular non-witch speak. It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Reiki is hardly solely the practice of witches. It’s a form of spiritual…” She trailed off at my heavy sigh. “Okay, okay. Yes, I usually strip down and Sven places a towel over my butt. Why? Are you getting one? Don’t you hate being touched by strangers?”

“Yeah, but I kind of fucked one, so…” Shocked at myself, I clapped a hand over my mouth. I rarely even swore, but when a man said he wanted to taste your honey enough, I supposed you lost your inhibitions. Maybe it was heat stroke.

Or sand fleas.

The music in Lu’s apartment immediately quieted. “You kind of fucked a stranger? How do you kind of fuck someone? Please tell me you didn’t just blow him without a gift with purchase.”

“No. God, no. I didn’t even blow him yet. But he blew me. Is that a thing? I mean, oral sex. Anyway, he wants to do this couples’ massage. I want to try it, but if the woman is super gorgeous like…” Don’t go there. “Well, if she’s super gorgeous, I’m going to feel totally inadequate.”

“Did you feel totally inadequate when you had sex with your stranger?”

“No,” I whispered. “He acts like I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet. He must be blind.”

“April Anne Finley, you stop it right now. If he’s with you, he sees all the amazing qualities we do every day with you. You’re smart and funny and sweet, and you have those dreamy hazel eyes.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in love with my breasts.”

“Well, duh. I’m half in love with them myself, and I’m straighter than a ruler. Except that one time in college, but that was due to the margaritas, I’m almost sure.”

It made me laugh when I’d been certain I couldn’t. “Thanks, Lu. So I should do this?”

“You absolutely should do this. Walk in that room with those knockers loud and proud. Any woman would love to have your body and your brain and your buns of steel.”

“If you say so.” I took a deep breath and stood. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck. And I want to know everything when you get back.”

“Absolutely. Wine night with Ry, who obviously has a story of her own.”

“Oh, she does. And you definitely will not believe it.”

“Huh. What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked with a trace too much innocence in her voice.

“Do you have a story too?”

“Maaaaaybe.”

Her long trill made me grin as I said a quick goodbye. Letting the robe drop to the floor, I threw back my shoulders and marched to the door, hauling it open.

And looked into the wide eyes of two petite female masseuses whose heads barely reached my cleavage.

Behind them, my mystery man sat on the arm of the couch, gaping at my naked body. His wolfish expression was far different than the startled ones of the masseuses.

“Talk later,” he said into the phone before tossing it over his shoulder.

Distantly, I heard a crack before he strode past the portable massage tables and gripped my shoulders, dragging me up onto my toes. His mouth landed on mine, a hot caress of pure desire, and I kissed him back, linking my arms around his neck as he lifted me up and carted me into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“We need to—they’re waiting—they can hear—”

“Who cares? Open your legs.”

I opened everything to him. I didn’t have locks strong enough to hold fast against him and his feverish kisses and devouring gaze as his hands roamed and teased and possessed.

Who was I kidding? I’d been lost to him from the moment he’d knocked on my door.

When we stumbled out fifteen minutes later, the two women were busy straightening towels on the portable tables.

“Orlo was busy,” he said against my hair, sending me a glance of pure male satisfaction when my knees buckled with the first step. He drew me hard against his side and kissed my temple. “Sylvie, Lai, we apologize for the delay.” His voice was as rich and smooth as fresh cream. “We’re ready now.”

The massages weren’t anything like I’d expected, but then again, after being carried off beforehand by a sexy stranger with lust in his eyes just for me, two businesslike women with strong hands taking turns rubbing out the kinks in my sore muscles didn’t really rank.

It was hard to even think about anything but him as we stared at each other across a distance of a few feet while strangers touched us. While strangers touched me.

Pure hedonisticdecadence.

The only tension was the hum of heat between the two of us. It didn’t seem to matter how many times we had each other. It never abated. Never lessened. Electricity practically crackled in the air when he turned over so Lai could massage his chest. He didn’t even look her way. His head remained tilted toward me so that as her hands capably stroked his skin, it was me he was imagining, his pupils wide with desire.

I wetted my lips and he did the same, and I couldn’t stop from clenching around air, wishing he was inside me. Even the scant distance between us was too much.

“Tensing,” Sylvie said in her lilting voice. “Just relax.”

Hard to relax when I was still hornier than a tree frog, but I tried.

They massaged me from my scalp right down to the soles of my feet and many parts in between, although nothing the least bit salacious. Afterward, I bundled into my robe for a mani and pedi, during which I asked for assistance with my color selections.

Instead of laughing at me, he looked at the chart and helped me pick. He even bossily insisted on a deep pink hue for my toes.

I humored him since my body was buzzing in a way it hadn’t since—ever. Absolutely never had I experienced so much pleasure.

Or chafing, but that was a separate consideration.

I wasn’t used to this level of pampering. Usually, I did my own nails, although occasionally I’d spring for gel nails when I needed a pickup. I’d had a pedicure exactly once before for a wedding. While I didn’t always love being fussed over—my female gene was missing on that score—my companion’s soft sounds of appreciation made me enjoy the process far more.

Had anyone ever looked at me the way he did? And I didn’t even know his name. I couldn’t even find him again after this if I wanted to.

Admit it. If you knew who he was, he would take over your life. You’d do whatever it took to keep this going. Flights across the country to wherever he lived, probably someplace tony like Beverly Hills. You hate to fly, remember?

Most of all, he wouldn’t allow me to live my safe, comfortable life and stick to the predictable routines that I preferred. Everything would change. I’d have to, whether I wanted to or not.

My temporary brave persona would have to become permanent. And I might like playacting right now, but I couldn’t keep this going. A large part of my personality involved nights lounging in fuzzy pajama pants and a ripped sweatshirt with a pint of rocky road with added cherries and my sewing projects, usually of the cat-related variety. Sure, I was branching out a bit there with my in-progress Christmas prezzies for my besties, but we weren’t talking big changes.

Lu always said there was a secret ninety year old inside of me, and she wasn’t wrong. More often than not, I felt more like Grams’ elder than the other way around.

Besides, Kit-Kat hated men. And Kit-Kat was my family. I wouldn’t subject her to something she hated just because he knew how to lick me until my head popped off and rolled on the ground.

I was not a jetsetter. I was not independently wealthy. I was just a small-town girl living a fantasy—and fantasies ended. They were meant to. Real life would just reveal all the holes and cracks and destroy the chemistry we’d found here.

Being practical was what I did best.

My mystery man gave the masseuse duo a hefty tip, waving off my offers to chip in. Not that I had his kind of money. I couldn’t even sneeze at his sort of spending.

His latest delivery after the women left demonstrated that in spades.

“What is all this?” I rifled through the dresses and tops and skirts paired with lacy underthings—all sized appropriately of course, since the guy never missed a trick or a cup size, apparently—and heels to match. That wasn’t all. He’d also included super high-end diamond-encrusted sunglasses, a pair of flats, and a pair of Dolce & Gabbana slippers soft enough to make me whimper when I slipped my feet inside. “You are either a demon of temptation or a god of women’s fondest unspoken desires.”

“I wanted you to be comfortable.” He shrugged as if this haul hadn’t cost at least half of my yearly take-home pay. “You mentioned dancing and you can’t wear yesterday’s outfit.”

“You were just afraid I’d put my halter dress back on. Admit it.”

“Since it’s back at your hotel, impossible. Besides, you shouldn’t hide behind folds of material that disguise everything you are.”

I gave into the need to try on the La Perla bra and panty set and tried not to gawk at my own shockingly curvy reflection in the mirror.

“Or,” he said silkily from behind me, “we could just stay here and I’ll pull those off of you with my teeth.”

Playfully, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re not harming the LaPerla, buddy. What kind of sick man are you?”

He lowered his mouth to my hair, his gaze never leaving mine in the mirror. “One who’s becoming obsessed with you.”

My heart beat in rapid time with my traitorous clit. It always got me in trouble with this man. Then again, what didn’t?

“Island romances,” I said with all the lightness I could muster. “They aren’t real life.”

“Says who?” He reached around me to unclasp the bra I’d just fastened. My breasts spilled free, my pink nipples almost lewdly hard. “We make the rules.”

“Right now, it feels like you’re making the rules.”

“Tell me you don’t like it. Not having to think. Not having to decide.” He trailed an open-mouthed kiss down my neck and I could do nothing but watch him in the glass and feel. “Your only job is to enjoy.”

I knew I should stop this. Fun and games were one thing, but this was all moving far too fast. Sure, we were just having a fling, but the deeper I got, the harder it would be to forget him. To be alone again, knowing that I’d probably always stay that way.

Lightning had already struck once. How could I get this lucky again?

Just take a chance. Ask his name. Where he lives. Maybe he doesn’t have a mansion on the west coast. He could live in like…Cincinnati. That isn’t that far away.

“I do like it. But this all—this isn’t the real me. I’m not like this at home.”

“Neither am I. I don’t have a woman like you taking all my attention.” He filled his hands with my breasts and twisted my nipples between his fingers. “I love how you look at me. As if I’m the gatekeeper to a whole new world.”

I couldn’t help smiling even as lust pooled low in my belly. “You are. You have no idea how long it had been since I’d had a non-self-administered orgasm.”

It was not the right thing to say.

Not even close.

“I like knowing I’m the only one lucky enough to have you. I’m greedy. So fucking greedy for you.” His teeth razored down my throat, making me shiver. “But I want to see it.”

“See what?”

“You know what. Slip your hand in your panties. Let me watch you come for me.”

In my head, I screamed. I couldn’t do this in front of a man. It was too personal. But the side of me that wanted to be the sort of woman who could lowered my hand to my panties. They were cut high on the thigh, a rich vanilla with a lacy sheer panel. Romantic and sexy.

“The color reminded me of your scent.”

“Which?” Was that really me who sounded so flirtatious as I ran my fingertips just under my waistband?

His chuckle skated along the back of my neck like a kiss. “Your perfume and you. You smell delicious. Like a treat I could eat forever and never get my fill.”

“Yet here I am, doing your work for you.” The sensation of my fingertips against my bare mound made everything seem more sensitive. I couldn’t stop my inward gasp.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Weird.”

“There’s my dirty talker. Want me to help?”

“No. I can do it.” I took a deep breath. “I mean, you can help all you want after, but I can do this.”

He rested his chin on my shoulder, his gorgeous green gaze a steady flame as he watched me in the mirror. “I can’t wait to watch.”

I turned my head and kissed his cheek and the scruff growing thicker as the day slipped into evening. He shifted to look at me straight on and it was easier to touch myself when I was lost in his kaleidoscope eyes. I felt powerful now. With him supporting me, I could do anything.

Beanything.

It didn’t make sense. We barely knew each other. But my fingers moved downward of their own accord, my clit swelling in anticipation. Moisture slicked my skin and sensations swamped me, impossible to differentiate. Excitement. Need. Embarrassment.

And under them all, the desire to please him—and myself.

Face burning, I teased myself as I would at home. Sliding up and down, reveling in the thrill building in my core. I darted over my clit, circling there for a moment before slipping down to where I quivered. Dipping inside with just the tip of my finger, then inching in more as he gripped my hips.

The steel brand of his cock against my behind was wordless encouragement to move faster, harder, to join another finger with the first. I was panting now and it was getting harder to maintain eye contact with him. I wanted to close him out. To lose myself in the need building inside me. I felt too exposed, too overwhelmed. My skin was so hot and tight and my clit was hammering as I fucked myself, so much harder than I would have if I was alone.

But his narrowed eyes and parted lips and quickened breaths were turning me on every bit as much as my own hand. More. He was my drug, and I was already addicted.

“You’re so close.” He spoke against my lips. “Let me taste.”

I started to pull my hand free, but the brutal lock of his fingers around my wrist stilled me as he moved around me to kneel at my feet. “Don’t stop.”

Breathing fast, I nodded.

He peeled aside my panties and bent to lick between my rapidly moving fingers, making me moan and drop my head back before I had to look again. I had to watch. I couldn’t miss a moment. My gaze shifted to the mirror and I gripped the back of his neck with my free hand, my fingers weaving into the golden brown curls at his nape. Holding him there while he sipped at me as delicately as he would the finest champagne while I worked myself into a frenzy.

Then his tongue swept over my aching clit and I detonated, bending forward over him, trapped and forced to accept his pleasure from the forceful clamp of his arm around my thighs. I stared into his eyes as I came, shocked and shattered both, absorbing his groans mixed with the noises I made as if now I was the stranger.

I’d never met this wanton woman in the glass before. I wanted to get to know her better.

I was still quaking when he rose up my body and cupped my cheeks to kiss me with my flavor flowing like wine between us. I fumbled for his boxers but he lifted my wrist to his mouth and kissed it, his eyes intent on mine.

“I owe you a night of dancing. I want to see you moving in the moonlight.”

I tried to find my voice as I dropped my gaze to the sizable erection tenting his boxers. “And I want you in my mouth.” I leaned up to nip his insolent lower lip and summoned the last of my courage. I’d never given a blowjob. I’d always been too awkward. But with him, I ached to try. “I want to taste you too.”

His groan sent a bolt of liquid fire through my already overwrought system. “You’re making it hard to be honorable.”

“Harder than you already are?” Teasingly, I tugged at his waistband, looking closer at the dagger tattoo high on his left thigh. I’d seen it before and the stark black ink had fascinated me, but he’d always diverted me before I could examine it thoroughly.

This time, he wasn’t quick enough.

It was a dagger all right, sharp and lethal. And the circle I’d thought was just part of the design was actually a ring.

A band.

He realized too late my attention had snagged on something other than his cock. He framed my face in his hands, his confident smile already in place as if he wasn’t stiff enough to hold up the damn ceiling. “Believe me, you constantly bring me to new heights. First, I want to feed you.”

“Is that a ring?” My words caught in my throat. “Like a wedding ring?”

Smoothly, he drew my hands away and settled his waistband back into place. “Divorce is my business, honey. I told you I’m a shark. And it’s made me a very wealthy man.” He kissed my forehead. “What’s your poison? Surf or turf?

What I really want is the truth.

Somehow I managed not to say it. We’d agreed not to get too personal. Maybe divorce was his business, and if so, that brought his profession dangerously close to mine, even if he operated on the other side of the world.

Not that I knew he did. It was just a guess. Maybe some kind of twisted wishful thinking so there was no way this could continue.

Perhaps there were other reasons why it couldn’t.

His job didn’t explain his tattoo. There was more there than professional pride in his cutthroat style.

I’d stake my far too expensive panties on it.