Page 4 of Forbidden Boss

She hesitates for half a second, her wide eyes locked on mine. That hesitation heats my blood. Not because I fear refusal, but because I know she’ll still give in. They always do.

Her hands go to the straps of her dress, pulling them down, baring smooth skin. The fabric pools at her feet, leaving her inlace that clings to her curves. My cock strains against my slacks, and I don’t bother hiding it.

I strip off my jacket and shirt in swift motions, tossing them aside. Her eyes sweep over me, lingering on the breadth of my chest, the scars that map my ribs. There’s hunger there, but also something else. Curiosity, maybe.

I guide her to the bedroom and stop in the doorway.

“Naked on the bed,” I say, my voice a command.

She obeys, removing her bra and panties, then moving to the bed and arranging herself in a way that is impossibly tempting. I follow, unbuckling my belt and shoving my slacks down. Her eyes widen when I free myself, and satisfaction rolls through me.

I brace myself and climb on top of her, pressing her down beneath me. Her breath comes fast, her chest rising and falling as she looks up at me. For a moment, I study her. The flush in her cheeks, the way her pupils are blown wide with desire. She isn’t hesitant or shy. She wants this as much as I do, and I’m going to give her as much as she can take.

I kiss her again, hard, while my hand slides between her thighs. Her body arches against me, a broken sound escaping her lips as my fingers find her slick and ready. I stroke her slowly, deliberately, watching her unravel. She whimpers, clutching at my shoulders, trying to pull me closer.

“You like this?” I ask, my voice low, dangerous.

“Yes,” she gasps.

I position myself at her entrance and push into her with one sharp thrust. Her cry of pleasure fills the room, and I grit myteeth at the tight heat gripping me. She needs no time at all to adjust to my cock, which is just as well. I’m not a patient man.

My pace is hard and fast. Each thrust drives into her with relentless force. The headboard hits the wall in a steady rhythm as her nails claw at my back.

Her shallow cries turn into moans, breathy and desperate. I take her mouth again, swallowing every sound, claiming every gasp. Her pussy clenches around me, her body trembling as she comes apart beneath me.

The feel of her pulsing around my shaft tears the control from me, and with a final thrust, I spill into her, holding her down, claiming every inch of her.

For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing and the faint hum of the city outside. I don’t move, braced above her, watching the way her chest heaves, the dazed look in her eyes.

I stay braced above her, my chest rising and falling, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath. Her dark hair spills across the white sheets, damp with sweat, her lips parted as if she still can’t believe what just happened.

Her eyes lock on mine, dazed, with a hard edge underneath, and I know what’s coming before she speaks.

“Will you tell me your name now?”

“Lev.” I let the single syllable fall from my mouth, clipped and final. I don’t give her my surname or any other information she can use for a quick Google search. This is the best way to keep some distance, to ensure no gold-diggers try to turn this into more than it was.

She blinks, waiting for me to return the question, to ask for hers. I don’t. I push off the mattress, standing, already pulling my slacks back on. The silence between us stretches.

“You’re really not going to ask me for mine?” she asks finally, her tone caught between playful and offended.

I button my pants and reach for my shirt.

“No,” I answer with the same finality I always do.

She looks at me as if she expected that response but doesn’t speak.

I pull my phone from the pocket of my jacket, already knowing how I’ll cut this short. “I need to make a call.”

The sitting room is only a few steps away, quiet except for the low hum of the city outside. I dial no one. My phone stays dark in my hand as I lower myself into one of the leather chairs. The glow from the skyline stretches across the glass coffee table, cold and sharp.

I sit there for several minutes, my pulse still unsteady, my cock still aching from how tight she was. She’s beautiful, yes. Fiery, too. She wasn’t meek or eager to please the way so many others are.

That spark should have annoyed me. Instead, it tempted me.

Which is exactly why I need distance.

I loosen the buttons on my shirt, lean back, and stare at the city. I think about the calls I actually need to make. Yuri is waiting for updates on the Kozlov situation. Reports are due from the Brighton Beach operations. The latest whispers say Petrov’s men are making moves downtown. But I don’t call anyone. I sit therein silence, forcing the hunger from my body and the pull from my thoughts. Thirty minutes pass before I move again. I need to end this before I cross a line I can’t uncross.