DOMINANT BY MY BOSS

Addicted to her

**Russo El Massimo’s POV**

I don’t let her leave the red room right away.

Not after what we just did.

She’s too fragile now,legs like water, skin flushed pink and marked with my fingerprints on her thighs, her throat, her hips.

Tears still drying on her cheeks.

The scent of us hangs heavy in the air: sweat, s, something sweeter underneath that’s just her.

I pull her off the table slowly, wrap one arm around her waist to hold her up because her knees give out the second her feet touch the rug.

She leans into me, head against my chest, breathing ragged like she just ran a mile.

I tuck myself back into my pants, zip up, but I don’t bother with the buttons on my shirt yet.

Not when she’s naked and trembling in my arms.

I scoop her up,one arm under her knees, the other around her back, like she weighs nothing.

Because to me, she doesn’t.

She’s light.

Breakable.

Mine to protect now, even if I’m the one who broke her first.

She murmurs something soft against my neck,my name, maybe, or “Master”,but it’s too quiet to hear clearly.

Doesn’t matter.

I know what she means.

I carry her out of the red room, down the dark third-floor hallway.

The house is silent this late,staff all tucked away in their basement quarters, no lights under doors, no footsteps echoing on the marble.

Good.

No one sees us like this.

No one gets to witness her vulnerability except me.

I take the private stairs to the master wing.

Two floors down.

My bedroom door is heavy oak,opens with a push of my shoulder.

The room is dark, only moonlight filtering through the tall windows, casting silver strips across the massive bed.

Black sheets.

Black pillows.

Everything in this house is dark because that’s how I like it.

Shadows hide sins.

I lay her down gently in the center of the bed.

She sinks into the mattress like it’s swallowing her whole.

Eyes half-closed, lips parted, hair a tangled mess across the pillow.

Beautiful.

Fucked-out.

Exhausted.

I pull the sheet over her,soft Egyptian cotton, cool against her heated skin.

She sighs when it touches her, curls onto her side instinctively, one hand reaching out like she’s searching for me even in her haze.

I sit on the edge of the bed, watch her for a long minute.

Her breathing evens out,slow, deep, the kind of sleep that comes after release so hard it wipes everything else away.

No dreams tonight for her.

Just rest.

Deep, dreamless rest.

I brush a strand of hair from her face.

My fingers linger on her cheek, soft, warm, still damp from tears.

I did that to her.

Made her cr, beg, come so hard she screamed my name like a curse.

A prayer.

Something twists in my chest,not regret, never regret,but something close to possession so fierce it borders on madness.

She’s not leaving this bed tonight.

Not leaving this house ever, if I have my way.

The world outside is too rough for her now.

Too full of people who don’t understand what she needs.

What I give her.

I stand up slowly, careful not to wake her.

She doesn’t stir.

Out like a light.

Good girl.I button my shirt in the dim light, tuck it into my pants, smooth my hair back with one hand.

The mirror across the room shows me what I look like,eyes dark, jaw set, a faint red scratch on my neck from her nails when she came.

I trace it with one finger.

Smile faintly.

A mark from her.

I’ll wear it like a badge tomorrow.

Let the world see.

Let them wonder.

But I can’t stay here.

Work doesn’t sleep, even if she does.

I slip out of the room, close the door silently behind me.

The hallway is cold,empty.

I head to my office on the first floor.

Not the boardroom downtown.

The private one here in the estate.

Heavy door.

Leather chair.

Desk big enough to run an empire from.

Which is exactly what I do.

The clock on the wall shows 12:47 a.m.

Late.

But time means nothing when there’s always more to conquer.

I sit down, boot up the laptop.

The screen glows blue in the dark room,harsh light cutting through shadows.

Emails flood in.

Always do.

Deals closing in Tokyo.

Shipments docking in New York.

Competitors sniffing around my territories like dogs looking for scraps.

I lean back, rub my jaw.

My mind should be on the numbers,the merger Leonard botched last week, the new port acquisitions that need my signature by dawn.

But it’s not.

It’s on her.

Upstairs.

Sleeping in my bed for the first time.

Naked under my sheets.

Body still slick from me.

From us.

I shift in the chair.

Already half-hard again just thinking about it.

The way she clenched around me,tight, hot, perfect.

Like she was made for my c**k.

The sounds she made,whimpers turning to moans turning to screams.

Her nails digging into my back hard enough to draw blood.

I unbutton my cuff, roll up one sleeve, look at the faint red lines she left on my forearm.

Another mark.

I press my thumb into one,feel the sting.

It grounds me.

Reminds me she’s real.

Not just another fantasy.

Not just another woman who bends and breaks under me.

She’s different.

She fights the submission even as she craves it.

That push-pull makes her addictive.

Makes me want to own every inch of her soul.

I force my eyes back to the screen.

Open the first email,reports from the northern docks.

Numbers look good.

Profits up twelve percent.

But I read the same line three times before it sinks in.

My mind drifts again.

To her face when I thrust in,eyes wide, mouth open in that silent gasp before the sound caught up.

To the way her p***y fluttered around me when she came, milking every drop like she needed it to breathe.

Fuck.