How to Kill Your Boss (6 page)

A tempest brewed within me. I tried to slow him down. I was so sensitive, wound so tight, there was no way I’d survive the release. When he plunged two fingers inside me, I threw myself back on the bed and bucked my hips in a shameful display. The violent orgasm nearly shattered me on its own, but Franklin latched on and sucked hard, drawing my release farther. The mixture of pain and pleasure was so intense, so exhausting, I couldn’t muster strength to open my eyes when he crawled on top of me and pressed his erection against my belly.

His lips found mine and I grabbed his ass when he pumped himself between our flesh. Weary as I was, I met his thrusts and opened my eyes when he growled my name, his semen spilling onto my skin. He trembled and collapsed at my side, resting a heavy, muscled thigh across my hips.

Much to my surprise and shame, I started to cry.

* * * *

“What the hell?” I mumbled through garbled sobs, too wrung out to turn away from him.

“Fuck, baby.” Franklin leaned over me and pulled my chin to face him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I wiped pesky tears from my eyes. “That was… Wow. I’ve never been, you know, not like that. It’s never been so intense.” A white lie. I’d never been kissed down there, let alone brought to the brink of death and back. The very idea of oral pleasure had always seemed taboo, despite being, in my opinion, more intimate than intercourse. I’d feared I would be too self conscious or bashful to enjoy it. I wasn’t, not with Franklin. Sexy. Wanton. Uninhibited. Anything but shy.

The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. “You’re not telling me something.”

Seriously, how did he know? “Okay, smart guy. I’ve never done the oral sex thing. I’ve never orgasmed with a man. I’ve suffered through exactly two sexual experiences, both with fumbling boys who didn’t have a clue what they were doing. Neither did I for that matter.”

An arrogant smile lit up his face, and he rose from the bed. Smug bastard. “I’m gonna get you cleaned off. Don’t move.” He strutted to the bathroom. Naked. Badass. Franklin moved with fierce confidence. When he returned with a warm, wet washcloth and a towel, I struggled to keep my eyes above his waistline, but his erection stood proud and…

“Holy cow, you’re huge!” I slapped my hand over my mouth. The words had escaped. No reeling them in. How could a man be hard so soon after ejaculating? He smirked and wiped his semen from my heated skin. He was tender and thorough and didn’t seem to mind that I stared at his hard-on or that I trembled every time he touched me. I think he enjoyed it.

When I was clean and dry, he disposed of the towels and pulled on a pair of black sweat pants he’d retrieved from his duffel bag. I scooted under the blankets and held them open for him to slide in. I hoped like hell he wouldn’t turn me down.

He didn’t.

As if we’d been lovers for years, he pulled me against his chest and snuggled right in.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he whispered.

“Thank you.” An elephant made a lounge chair of my chest. Worry seeped through the sex haze invading my brain. I didn’t know if Jacob had any family nearby. Was anyone with him at the hospital? We talked almost daily, but I knew little about his personal life. Our conversations had centered around me, and he had always changed the subject when I did any digging.

Shit. Did I know anything other than he was a widower and retired bookstore owner? I rarely entered his apartment. When I did, it was only to wait inside the front door.

“I have to see how Jacob is. What hospital did they take him to?” I asked, ashamed that I’d been so wrapped up in my own selfish bliss that I hadn’t checked on him.

Franklin sighed. “He’s in good hands. We’ll call first thing in the morning, okay?”

I lay down and Franklin pulled me back into his safe embrace. How had I ever slept without the comfort of his arms?

“What are we doing, Franklin?” I asked, hoping to hide my insecurity.

“Spooning.”

I laughed. That word did not belong in his vocabulary. It was too fluffy for his deep voice and daunting physical form.

“Come on, I’m trying to be serious,” I huffed. “This isn’t me. I don’t do hook-ups. I don’t do one night stands.”

He squeezed me tight. “I know, Tate. I know that’s not who you are. Do you feel safe right now?”

“Yes.” I did, physically and emotionally.

“Then that’s what we’re doing. Tonight, I’m keeping you safe.”

That was good enough for me.

Wallace cackled and flashed his five-hundred-dollar shade-of-white smile at the waitress. Miss Bleach Blonde bent to whisper something in his ear and nearly spilled her saline-stuffed double-D’s over his shoulder in the process.

I watched from my perch across the street. He slid a hand up the back of her thigh and rested it below her left butt cheek. He thought no one would notice, but I did. I also witnessed the dark blush spread across her face.

Poor little fool.

I wiped sweat from my brow, aimed, and pulled the trigger. “Eat lead, asshole,” I whispered.

Dead on.

The bullet entered above his right eyebrow and embedded itself in the cement column directly behind him. The waitress screamed and dove to the ground. I stood, held the muzzle to my lips, and blew the smoke away.

“Good shootin’, sugar.” A hearty gentleman patted me on the back as he passed.

“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.” I smiled and twirled the small pistol around my index finger before tucking it back into the holster strapped to my right hip.

Morning came too soon. I rubbed my eyes open, took in the unfamiliar surroundings and wrestled a surge of panic. My bearings took a few minutes to catch up with me. Mr. Reed was nowhere to be found, and empty frigidness hovered where his body should’ve been. Was last night a dream?

I gathered my clothes and made the walk of shame to my bedroom. I needed a long hot soak in the tub.

No. Coffee, then a good scrub.

Uh-uh. Shower first. There might be a super sexy stud waiting for me. I’d rather jump out the window than greet him with morning hair or breath. How could I face him at all? How could I share an office space with him after last night?

I took my time. Let the hot water soothe aching muscles, tense from the stress of finding Jacob nearly dead and sore from the exertion of the mind-blowing orgasm. Jeez, I’d never have to work out if I kept Franklin around.

I was about to turn off the water when the shower door slid open, then closed. A heavy hand splayed across my abdomen, yanking my rear against an erection that begged for attention. A sharp nip on my ear and hot breath on my neck set my skin ablaze.

“Fuck, I can’t keep my hands off you,” he groaned, and pulled me tighter against him, roping one arm around my waist and the other across my breasts. Instinctively I arched, savoring the weight of his arm on my chest and the evidence of his arousal on my backside.

“Then don’t,” I managed to utter.

Franklin trailed kisses across my jaw, down my neck, and across my shoulder. With adept hands, he massaged my breasts, rolled the peaks between his fingers, rubbed his hardened sex across the slickness of my butt.

“Last night was torture,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. I turned to find him staring down at me, his desire radiant through heavy lids. “All I could think about was ravishing you.” His tongue rolled across his bottom lip and a crooked smile, full of hellfire, made an appearance just before he crushed his mouth to mine.

It dangled on the verge of painful, the way he claimed me, stole my breath, crushed our bodies together. My blood, my skin burned. I kissed him back. Hard. Hungry. Greedy. I was a lucky girl. For one more moment, this beautiful creature was mine. This beast of a man could eat me alive, and I would let him. No more worrying about tomorrow. I wanted more of him. However I could get it.

He kissed me until my lips ached, then moved to my chest and worshipped my breasts with fervent discipline. I moaned when he drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked. He groaned in response.

Blood pounded through my body with a thunderous intensity. My insides throbbed, clenched, begged for mercy. As if attuned to my need, he plunged two fingers deep between my legs, found my entrance and penetrated me. He pulled them out, massaged between my legs, and slid them back in.

“You’re so tight. So fucking perfect.”

Franklin knelt, guided my leg over his shoulder, and with master skill, worked me into a carnal frenzy. With his fingers deep inside me, Franklin Reed did things with his mouth I didn’t know were possible. I came with such intense shudders, my leg collapsed beneath me.

Solid arms held me steady until my brain and muscles reconnected. He helped me stand and pinned me to the wall, clasping my hands above my head. I was sure he could read the shock on my face when he pushed his erection between my legs, grazing the sensitive tissue he’d just ravished.

Lips lowered to mine, he asked, “Trust me?”

Like I had a choice. No way was I strong enough to fight him off if I didn’t. No way did I want him to stop whatever he had planned. I was no longer in my own head. My body and brain had disconnected. I was a puppet and Franklin pulled the strings.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, then moved to whisper in my ear. “I can’t wait to bury myself in you. Claim every bit of that sweet pussy and make it mine. Fill you until there’s absolutely nothing between us.” He forced his erection deeper between my legs. I ground my pubic bone against the thickness. I couldn’t stop myself. The friction triggered ripples of pleasure and I wanted more.

Letting go of my arms, he clenched my hips and thrust hard, over and over. Each time, grinding against me. He was fucking me. Fucking the fleshy meat between my thighs. It was so damned erotic, another orgasm already threatened to tear me apart. When he came, when his semen dripped down my legs, I bit my lip and buried my face in his chest, to keep from screaming out with the force of my own release.

* * * *

I was left alone to finish my shower. The man rocked my world, then strutted away, naked, wet, and oozing confidence. He returned moments later wearing jeans, beads of water across his chest, and a daunting glare.

“I’ve got something to take care of. I grabbed your keys. I’ll lock the door behind me.” He paused and raked my body from top to bottom with a sharp, haunted perusal. It chilled me, even under the hot water.

“I won’t be gone long. Promise me, you won’t go anywhere or open the door for anyone.” His forearm rippled as he tightened his grip on the shower door. God, the muscles that man sported. What a freakin’ turn-on.

“Um, ok.” I made a face. “Bossy, much?”

Franklin didn’t appreciate my snarky remark. His Adam’s apple protruded, jaw tightened, brows pinched.

“Tatum. Promise me.”

“No problem.” Nothing to worry about. Jacob was the only one who ever knocked on my door. Him and the pizza delivery guy. Pretty sure neither of them would come by for a Sunday morning chit-chat.

He turned to leave, paused at the door, shook his head, then disappeared around the corner.

I wasn’t sure what to make of his mood shift. Reminded me of my father. Dad was the most loving, mild-mannered guy I’d ever known. But when it came to my safety, the gentle giant could crank up the protective dial to raging beast mode.

I emerged from the shower, wrinkled and rubber-legged. I threw on some mascara and lip gloss, fluffed my dark blond hair, and dug my favorite jeans from the dryer.

A hot pot of coffee awaited me on the kitchen counter next to a half finished cup. Black. It was darker than what I was used to but smelled divine. I paused before pouring cream into my mug and pictured Franklin in all his naked glory. No room for half-n-half in a body that physically fit—that void of fat.

I grabbed an apple and headed for the balcony. A cool breeze greeted me when I stepped outside. The sun made an honorable attempt to emerge from the fluffy billows of gray hanging in the sky. The usual hustle and bustle of Alki Beach on a Sunday morning was well underway, street and foot traffic already thick. A few brave, hardcore beach lovers stretched on oversized towels on the sand.

I loved my home. My view. Safety had never been a concern.

Until my neighbor and dear friend was brutally attacked.

Life could turn on a dime. My happy-go-lucky outlook? Yeah, that changed too. I used to study people in awe and wonderment. Now, I scrutinized each character. Sized them up. Judged by appearances which ones were most likely to commit heinous crimes. It sucked. It sucked bad.

I didn’t want to people-watch anymore.

I was about to go back inside when a figure caught my eye. Dark gray hoodie, dark sweats, aviator glasses.

Holy shit.

The man jogged along the footpath, stopped to tie his shoe, lifted his head, and looked directly at me. Was it my imagination again? He stared for a long time, then raised his hand and waved.

I froze, teeth half sunken in my fruit.

His wave morphed into a pointed finger. Then a fake pistol. He shot his fake pistol. At me.

Blood drained from my head and congealed in my feet. I couldn’t move.

He stood, then jogged away in the direction he’d come.

I screamed like a horror movie victim when something squeezed my shoulder.

Driven by pure adrenaline, acting on impulse, I whirled around and rammed my apple between Franklin’s baby blues.

Faster than I could process what’d happened, I was on the floor. Franklin had straddled me and I’d been completely decommissioned. Again, I found myself unable to move. Pinned to the floor, wrists bound, legs immobilized, lungs emptied.

“Fuck, Tate. What the hell?” He wiped apple mush from his face. He wasn’t out of breath, yet I couldn’t find mine.

“Hoodie man.” I pushed the words out between gasps for precious oxygen. “He was outside.”

Franklin was on his feet and peering over the balcony in a heartbeat. “Where? Which way?” He turned to look at me but I still couldn’t breathe.

As quick as he’d sent me to the floor, he pulled me to my feet. Damn, the man moved fast.