Obsessed With My Father’s Boss

His Little Mouse 2

AUTHOR’S POV

“Good girl. Now lie down and spread that pretty virgin p***y for me. Let daddy have a taste.”

Rhea just stood there bare, while Rowan sat back on his chair, his hard length visible, her eyes glued on Rhea.

She lowered herself onto the silk sheets, the fabric cool and slippery against her backside. With a trembling exhale, she parted her thighs slowly, exposing the glistening, pink folds of her p***y to his predatory stare.

Rowan remained still for a heartbeat, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in her knees.

"Spread those legs wider, Little Mouse."

His voice was a low grate, a command that brooked no hesitation. Rhea obeyed, pushing her knees toward her shoulders until she was completely open, her center bared and pulsing. A sudden draft swept across her damp heat, sending a violent shiver through her spine.

Rowan rose from the chair. He didn't rush; he prowled. He knelt between her spread legs, his presence blotting out the light. The scent of him—sandalwood and something metallic overwhelmed her. He licked his lips, his eyes locked on the wet slit of her p***y as if it were a feast he had waited years to consume.

He leaned in. The heat of his breath hit her c**t first, a warm puff of air that made her hips jerk upward instinctively.

"Steady," he murmured.

Then, he surged forward. His tongue was broad and rough, swirling against her c**t with a precision that stole the air from her lungs. Rhea let out a jagged moan, her fingers clawing into the silk sheets. He didn't stop, his tongue diving deep into her, tasting the honeyed cream of her arousal. He sucked the sensitive nub of her c**t into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in a rhythmic, punishing circle.

While his mouth worked her open, Rowan’s hand traveled upward. He gripped her breast, his fingers squeezing the soft mound with a possessive force that left red marks on her pale skin. He rolled her n****e between his thumb and forefinger, twisting it just enough to spark a sharp, electric jolt of pain and pleasure.

The friction increased. The sound of his tongue shlicking against her wetness filled the quiet room, a rhythmic, squelching noise that echoed the pounding of Rhea's heart. She was a live wire, her muscles tightening, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She felt the pressure building behind her pelvic bone, a tidal wave of heat that threatened to drown her.

"Please," she whimpered, her head tossing from side to side.

Rowan didn't answer with words. He increased the pace, his tongue flickering like a flame against her c**t while his fingers slid inside her, stretching her walls. He hit her G-spot with a calculated flick of his wrist, and the world fractured.

Rhea’s back arched off the bed, her toes curling. A guttural scream tore from her throat as her orgasm hit with the force of a collision. Her internal muscles clamped down on his fingers in violent spasms, and suddenly, a hot, clear torrent of fluid erupted from her, spraying across his face and chest.

She squirted violently, the liquid splashing onto the sheets and his skin, her body shuddering from a climax so intense it felt like she was breaking apart.

She collapsed back into the pillows, her chest heaving, her legs shaking so hard she couldn't feel them. She was lost in the pleasure, her mind completely blank.

Rowan pulled back, his face glistening with her juices. He didn't wipe himself. Instead, he licked his lips, tasting the salt and musk of her release, savoring every last drop of her c*m as if it were a vintage wine.

"You are such a naughty girl," he whispered, his voice dripping with a dark satisfaction.

The haze began to lift, replaced by a sudden, ravenous hunger. The shyness that had defined her for months vanished, burned away by the friction of the last few minutes. Rhea didn't want the afterglow; she wanted the weight of him. She wanted to feel that hard, straining length burying itself deep inside her, stretching her until she couldn't breathe.

She pushed herself up, her movements fluid and determined. She stood and approached him, her naked body humming. Rowan had returned to his chair, poised in anticipation, watching her with a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes.

Rhea leaned in, her gaze fixed on the bulge in his trousers. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she prepared to grasp him, to pull him out and take what she craved.

Just as her skin brushed the fabric, Rowan’s hand shot out, catching her wrist in a grip of iron. He didn't squeeze hard, but the firmness was an absolute wall.

"Not so soon, Little Mouse," he said, his voice returning to that cold, commanding edge. "You have to earn it."

Rhea blinked, her mouth parting in confusion. The rejection felt like a physical blow, a sudden drop in temperature.

"Come in," Rowan commanded, ignoring her bewildered expression.

The door to the bedroom clicked open. A lady stepped in, she looked quite older than Rhea.

She wore nothing but a pair of flimsy, sheer lace panties that did nothing to hide the curve of her hips or the dark shadow of her core.

Rhea froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She recognized her—the woman she had seen kissing Rowan in the hallways of the estate.

"Kneel," Rowan ordered.

The woman didn't hesitate. She didn't look at Rhea. She simply dropped to her knees before Rowan, like she had done it many times before, and knew her place. She reached for his belt, her fingers nimble and efficient as she freed his c**k from the confines of his clothes.

It sprang free, thick and pulsing, a vein running like a cord along the shaft. The head was a deep, angry purple, weeping a bead of pre-c*m that glistened under the dim lights.

Rowan turned his gaze back to Rhea. He didn't let go of her wrist immediately; he pulled her a fraction closer, forcing her to look at the sight of another woman preparing to service him.

"Now, Little Mouse," Rowan whispered, a cruel smile touching his lips. "Sit and watch."