Page 51 of Beauty and the Bosshole
“You were engaged before,” she says accusingly, a flush climbing her creamy throat. Sometime in the last few hours, Ava slipped into the bathroom and changed into a silky blue pajama set, declaring to the room that she wanted to be comfortable.
I was so proud in that moment, seeing my gorgeous, curvy wife dress in a way that feels good to her. This is her hotel room, damn it, and she should dress however she pleases.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that she looks fucking mouthwatering in these pajamas. Blue silk skims her sides and ripples when she moves, catching the light, and the material is slippery, dancing over her body.
Fuck me.
My blood pounds hotter, suddenly surging through my veins. My muscles tense, straining against my bones.
“No,” I correct, “my insane mother tried to gift me away like a fruit basket. I never agreed to any engagement. Does that sound like something I’d do?”
Ava’s mouth twitches, and she’s happier already, her body inching closer to mine. Down between us, her bare toes scrunch into the carpet.
Tired? Who’s tired? Sure, I’ve barely slept in days, and yes, this whole trip has been an emotionally grueling boot camp. But Ava is looking up at me from beneath her lashes, her smile coy and her dark hair mussed, and suddenly I’m as wide-awake as the first time I went sky-diving.
“So, you and this Daniella person never…?”
My nose wrinkles. “Absolutely not.” And frankly, even if Ihadn’tbeen head-over-heels with Ava already, Leon’s daughter trying to barge her way into modeling for our campaign did her zero favors. Those pictures will be published when pigs fly—I’ll make sure of it.
Reese Donovan does not negotiate with terrorists. That includes mobsters, their pushy daughters, and my own meddling mother.
“He’ll keep trying, you know.” A small palm flattens over my chest as Ava guides me back toward the bed. My heart beats extra hard, lunging against her hand, and my feet scuff against the carpet. “Leon, I mean. This will slow him down and piss him off, but he’ll keep gunning for you. Men like that don’t take no for an answer.”
“I know.”
The backs of my legs hit the bed, and I sit heavily on the mattress. There’s no grace to my movements where Ava is concerned, no keeping up appearances. Everything is too urgent, too desperate, to worry about looking good, and I need her too badly. Screw being dignified. If I don’t get Ava’s hands on my body, I’ll explode.
“We need to take the fight to him,” she says, sinking to her knees between my legs. Her delicate fingers work my belt open, and I stare down at the creaking leather in her hands, dry-mouthed and so fucking grateful. “It’s no use always being on the back foot. Not with a man like that. We need to scare him off for good.”
“Oh yeah?” My zipper scratches down, so loud in the quiet hotel room, and a hiss escapes between my teeth as Ava takes my shaft in her hand. She draws it out into the cool air, pumping it lazily, spreading a bead of moisture over the tip with her thumb. “And—fuck.Yeah, like that.” My hips twitch up, chasing her touch. “And what do you recommend, exactly?”
“A show of force.” My wife winks before swooping forward and taking my cock between her lips, sucking so deep her cheeks hollow. My groan echoes off the ceiling, and I scramble for two fistfuls of bedcovers, yanking desperately at the fabric.
Can’t touch Ava when I’m wound this tight. Can’t pull her hair or bruise her delicate skin. All I can do is breathe through my nose and dig my heels into the carpet, fighting with every inch of my self-control not to fuck deep into my sweet wife’s throat.
Ava’s hum vibrates through my nerves, torturing me so badly my eyes nearly cross. She slurps shamelessly, bobbing her head, and I mutter a senseless string of filthy praise, hands twisted in the bed covers as I confess all the things I’d like to do to her. All the things I’ve wanted since the first moment I laid eyes on her.
The way I want to spank her, manhandle her, spread her out and lick her until she screams. The way I wantallof her, to claim every virgin inch: every nerve ending, tickly patch of skin, and slick hole.
And I’d be ashamed of talking to my woman like this, but Ava hums eagerly, urging me on, wordlessly agreeing with each pump of her fist and lash of her tongue. Tension coils low in my gut, fireworks explode behind my eyes, and still she tortures me, the fingernails of her free hand digging into my thigh.
Daniella? How can Ava possibly be jealous of another woman when we havethis: so much raw chemistry that I can barely string a thought together?
“Mine,” I mutter, finally sliding one hand into Ava’s silky black hair. It’s chin-length, slipping through my fingers—enough to tug on, but not enough to wrap around my fist. The ultimate tease, just like her. “You’remine,Ava. Say it.”
She scoffs, the tip of her nose nearly pressed against my abdomen, and shoots me a look as if to say:I’m abit busy right now.
“Say it,” I repeat.
And, a show of force, she said? I tug Ava’s hair, hard enough to jolt her head back. A dazed look of pleasure comes over her face, and she lets my cock go with a sinful pop. Her chest heaves up and down, flushed and straining against her blue silk pajamas.
My new wife likes this, too.Needsthis, too: the bosshole treatment.
She’s so fucking perfect, I can hardly stand it.
“I’m yours,” Ava whispers, her lips glossy, a string of saliva leading from her bottom lip to the head of my shaft.
Good.