The Boss’s Bargain

CHAPTER 5

The drive to Elias's house was a blur of city lights and thick, heavy silence. His hand never left my thigh. He kept his palm flat against the fabric of my trousers, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles that drove me insane. Every time the car purred over a bump in the road, his grip would tighten, reminding me of his strength, of the things those hands had just done to me on his desk.

We didn't speak. There was no need for words. The air in the car was charged, thick with the scent of s*x and expensive leather. I watched his profile in the glow of the dashboard—strong jaw set in a determined line, eyes focused on the road, but the muscle in his cheek twitched. He was barely holding onto his control.

He lived in a sprawling modern house nestled in the hills, a stark contrast to the chaotic downtown office. It was all glass and sharp angles, isolated behind a high gate.

As soon as the front door clicked shut behind us, the silence of the house enveloped us.

"Drink?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the large, open foyer. He walked toward a sleek bar cart in the living room, loosening his tie completely and tossing it onto a sofa.

I shook my head, kicking off my heels. My feet ached, but the rest of me was buzzing with a nervous, electric energy. "No. I just want..."

I trailed off. I didn't know how to ask for what I wanted. I felt bold in his office, fueled by the thrill of possibly getting caught. But here, in his home—his sanctuary—I felt small again. Young.

He turned to look at me, pouring himself a scotch. He swirled the amber liquid, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You just want what, Chloe?"

I bit my lip, looking at the floor. "You."

He set the glass down with a sharp *clink*. In three long strides, he was in front of me. He didn't touch me. He just stood there, towering over me, invading my personal space until I could feel the heat radiating from his chest.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

I tilted my head back to meet his gaze.

"If you stay tonight," he said, his voice low and rough, "I'm not going to be gentle. I've spent a week restraining myself. I've spent the last hour thinking about all the things I want to do to you. If you stay, you're mine. Do you understand?"

A shiver raced down my spine, settling deep in my core. "Yes."

"Say it," he demanded, his hand coming up to grip my chin, holding my face still. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Elias."

His control snapped. He kissed me with a ferocity that stole my breath. It was bruising, claiming, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip until I gasped, allowing his tongue to sweep inside. I clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, but he grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind my back with one large hand.

"No," he growled against my mouth. "You don't get to touch yet. You teased me all week. Now you pay the price."

He released my wrists and spun me around. I gasped as he pushed me forward, bending me over the arm of his plush velvet sofa. I was face down, my hips propped up high.

"Stay still," he ordered.

I heard him move behind me. The sound of his zipper lowering made my pulse skyrocket. Then, I felt his hands on my hips. He didn't take off my trousers yet. He molded his hands over my backside, squeezing, kneading the flesh through the heavy fabric.

"I've been thinking about this ass all day," he murmured. "Even when you were presenting those charts, I was imagining you bent over like this."

He reached around and undid the button of my trousers, yanking them down along with my underwear in one swift motion. The cool air of the room hit my heated skin, making me shiver. But I didn't have time to feel cold.

*Smack.*

His hand came down on my right cheek with a sharp, stinging crack. I yelped, more from surprise than pain.

"Count," he said, his voice deadly calm.

I buried my face in the velvet cushion. "One."

*Smack.* The left cheek this time, harder.

"Two."

My skin burned, but the heat was spreading, pooling between my legs. The pain was sharp, but it faded instantly into a dull, throbbing pleasure.

"Three," I gasped as his hand connected again.

He continued, his rhythm steady, his hand heavy. By the time I counted ten, I was trembling, my breathing ragged, my body wound tight as a spring. I was dripping wet, my arousal slick on my thighs.

"Good girl," he praised, his hand rubbing the heated skin soothingly. "You took that so well."

He dropped to his knees behind me. I felt his breath on my most intimate parts a second before his tongue touched me.

"Oh god!" I cried out, my back arching.

He ate me out from behind, his tongue delving deep, tasting me. It was obscene and wet and absolutely perfect. He spread my cheeks, opening me up completely to his mouth. He circled my c**t, then thrust his tongue inside me, f*****g me with his mouth.

I gripped the sofa cushion, my knuckles white. I was already close, my body still sensitive from the orgasm in his office. "Elias, please! I need you inside me."

He pulled away abruptly. I whimpered at the loss of contact, turning my head to look back at him. He was standing, his c**k hard and jutting out from his open trousers.

"Not yet," he said. He walked around the sofa to stand in front of my face. "Open your mouth."

I looked up at him. His eyes were dark, his face flushed with desire. I opened my mouth obediently.

He guided himself into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around him, tasting the salt of his pre-c*m. He groaned, his hand tangling in my hair.

"That's it," he breathed, his hips rocking gently. "Take me. Just like that."

I swirled my tongue around the tip, tracing the ridge, loving the way his breath hitched. I tried to take him deeper, but he pulled back.

"Enough," he growled. "I don't want to come in your mouth tonight. I want to come inside that tight pussy."

He pulled me up from the sofa. He stripped me efficiently—blouse, bra—until I was completely naked. He shed his own clothes just as quickly. I watched him, admiring his physique. He was all hard planes and muscle, a map of strength and experience.

He pulled me toward a large ottoman in the center of the room. He sat down, pulling me onto his lap so I was straddling him.

"Ride me," he commanded. "Show me what you want."

I positioned myself over him. I was so wet that I slid down his length with ease, taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me. We both moaned, the sensation overwhelming.

I braced my hands on his shoulders and started to move. I rolled my hips, finding a rhythm. It was different from the frantic pace in his office. This was slower, deeper. I could look into his eyes.

He watched my face, his hands roaming over my body. He cupped my breasts, pinching my n*****s, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. I sped up, bouncing on his lap, the sound of our skin meeting echoing through the room.

"That's it, Chloe," he groaned, his head falling back against the sofa. "You feel incredible. So tight. So wet."

I leaned forward and kissed his neck, biting down on the corded muscle. I felt powerful. I was controlling the pace, driving him crazy.

But Elias wasn't a man to be controlled for long.

Suddenly, he grabbed my waist, stopping my movement. He flipped us over. I found myself on my back on the ottoman, my legs hooked over his forearms. He folded me nearly in half, my knees pressed near my chest.

"My turn," he growled.

He started to pound into me. There was no finesse now, just raw, primal need. He hammered into me, hitting my cervix with every thrust. The ottoman skidded slightly on the rug with the force of his movements.

"Look at me," he demanded.

I forced my eyes open. His face was inches from mine, sweat dripping from his temple. He looked savage. Beautiful.

"You are never leaving this house," he grunted, driving into me. "You are never wearing pants to work again. I want you in skirts. I want access. Whenever I want. Wherever I want."

"Yes!" I screamed, the dirty talk pushing me higher. "Anything! Yes!"

He shifted his weight, grinding his pelvic bone against my c**t with every stroke. The friction was maddening. I could feel the orgasm building, a massive wave ready to crash.

"Elias! I'm coming! Oh god!"

"Come for me, baby. Come on my cock."

I shattered. I screamed his name as my entire body seized. I saw stars, my vision whiting out as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over me. My walls clamped down on him so hard I heard him hiss.

He didn't stop. He rode me through my orgasm, prolonging it until I was sobbing from the intensity.

"Again," he growled. "Give me another one."

"I can't," I whimpered, my body shaking. "It's too much."

"You can," he insisted. He pulled out for a second, flipping me over onto my stomach, bending me over the ottoman again.

He entered me from behind, the angle even deeper than before. I was oversensitive, every nerve ending on fire. It was almost painful, but it was a pain that blurred into agonizing pleasure.

He reached around, his fingers finding my swollen, throbbing c**t. He rubbed it in tight, fast circles while he thrust into me.

"Come on, Chloe," he coaxed, his voice strained. "Give it to me. I want to feel you squeeze the life out of me."

I buried my face in the fabric of the ottoman, screaming as a second, even more powerful orgasm was ripped from my body. My legs gave out, but he held me up, his hands gripping my hips like a vice.

With a final, guttural roar, he buried himself deep inside me one last time. I felt him pulse, his warmth flooding me. He shuddered, his hips jerking spasmodically as he found his release.

He collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the ottoman. We lay there, tangled together, struggling to breathe. The only sound in the room was our ragged gasps and the distant hum of the city below.

After a long moment, he rolled off me, pulling me into his arms so we were spooning on the soft rug. He kissed my shoulder, his hand resting protectively on my stomach.

"Are you okay?" he murmured against my skin. "I didn't hurt you?"

I turned my head to look at him, a lazy, satisfied smile on my face. "I'm more than okay. That was..."

"Intense," he finished for me.

"Yeah."

He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from my forehead. His eyes were soft now, the hard dominance replaced by a tenderness that made my chest ache.

"Stay tonight," he said. It wasn't a command this time. It was a question.

I nodded, snuggling closer into his warmth. "I'll stay."

We lay there for a long time, the sweat cooling on our bodies. Eventually, he led me upstairs to his bedroom—a massive space with a bed big enough for five people. He drew a bath in the en-suite, and we soaked in the steaming water, my back against his chest.

I traced the lines of his arm under the water. "What happens on Monday?" I asked softly.

He kissed the top of my head. "Monday, you come to work. You do your job. And when the door closes... you're mine."

"Is that allowed?" I teased.

"Probably not," he admitted. "But I don't care. I've spent three years alone, Chloe. I didn't think I could feel this way again. But you... you've woken something up in me. I'm not letting you go."

His words sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with s*x. "I don't want you to let go."

"Good," he said, tightening his arms around me. "Because I plan on keeping you very busy."

I laughed, leaning my head back against his shoulder. The water was warm, his arms were safe, and the future was a scary, exciting unknown. But right now, in this moment, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

To be continued…