Boss (Chianti Kisses #2) by Tara Oakes Read Free Book Online

in a swoon. His arms are strong holding me upright. He reaches down, one arm stabilizing itself under my lower legs, and lifts my bottom half to lay cradled in his arms. My arms snake around his neck, bringing his mouth deeper into mine.
    “You amaze me, V,” he confesses.
    I feel his legs lifting, stepping from the puddled suit pants around his ankles, freeing his thick, muscular legs to carry us to the bed where he softly deposits me. He lifts himself, staring down at me laid out before him. I hear a deep guttural growl from within him. I feel his eyes inspect me, inspect the outfit. He devilishly smiles his approval as his eyes sweep the fishnet thigh-highs down the red-soled designer stilettos.
    His hand settles on one shoe, high in the air above me, cupping behind the heel. I see hesitation as he plans his next move.
    He shakes his head. “No. I think I’ll leave these on.”
    My eyes widen in silent question, as he straightens my legs high and spreads them wide. I feel a cold rush of air cooling the torrid flesh of my core as its opening to him. I whimper once again.
    He takes the tip of himself and moves it along my edge, up and down, teasing and tempting. My head thrashes from side to side. I feel a warm moistness on my calf as he kisses my skin deep.
    “Please, Dom… please,” I verbalize my begging.
    The slickness between my legs grows in volume as he slides his flesh around my opening.
    “Have you learned your lesson, V?”
    A part of me doesn’t want to give him the pleasure of victory, but I know that the greatest prize will be mine.
    “Fine. You win. I’ll listen next time,” I say, betraying my feminist convictions and giving in to him.
    His massive length pushes deep enough to wrench a cry from my lips. I feel myself clamp around him, his foreplay having done most of the work for him already, to bring me to the precipice. I shake and convulse readily around his shaft but he doesn’t stop. He rides through, selfishly taking his pleasure as I enjoy mine.
    The stoic rhythm of his hips and powerful thighs pushes us far into the folds of each other. I feel my boobs bounce freely from the recurrent thrusting, like bouncing bull’s-eyes for my man. His hands hungrily reach for them, massaging and clamping around the sensitive nubs.
    I feel another vice of tension begin to coil within and I stretch myself long, my body attempting to control the whirling constrictions taking over. I see the sweat beading on his brow, on his arms, as they greedily work on my chest. His eyes are hungry, the vein in the side of his temple bulging and pulsing at record pace.
    I can see the physical signs of his impending release written all over him. His skin is scarlet, his breathing erratic, and his need is unrelenting as his movements continue to try and satisfy his his cravings.
    His fingernails trace down as his hands position themselves, bracing himself by holding my thighs firmly. His body begins its steady shaking, his eyes boring into me as his release drains from his body into mine.
    My eyes roll back, recovering, as his loud panting fills the room. If this is my punishment for being naughty, I wonder what he has in store for when I’m bitchy bad.
     
    ~*~
     
    It’s no easy feat to undo a corset. The laces themselves are borderline barbaric, and pretty damn time-consuming. Finally unraveling the tight stitches, I toss it into the hand-wash bin next the laundry basket in the closet of the vanity area of my bathroom.
    “V?” I hear through the running tap water that I’m using to fill the small paper cup in my hand.  “I’m gonna go down and make a sandwich. Should I make you one?”
    He enters the marbled bath chamber and joins me, awaiting an answer to his question. I haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I’m sure I can whip up a little something more substantial than sandwiches, even with my limited cooking skills.
    “I’ll throw something together in a bit, babe. You don’t need to make a sandwich.” I