My Billionaire Boss (Book 2)(Erotic Romance) Read Online Free Page A

the scream takes a life of its own —
forcing it’s way through my clenched jaw. I hear him make a noise that is more
growl than moan, and feeling the cum spurting deep inside, bursting from him in
jerking spasms as he gasps with each one.
     
    We stay that way
for a moment, the predator and the prey, until I can catch my breath. He pats
me on the bottom and removes himself from my body as I feel the wetness escape
my battered pleasure center and begin to run down my thigh.  Ever the
gentleman, Marcus takes some tissues off the side table and cleans me. 
     
    “ I’ve got wine and cheese in my bedroom,” he says quietly as he
kisses me lightly on the cheek. “When you can walk, join me.”
     
    To be honest, he
wasn’t kidding. I ended up staying bent over the love seat for more than a few
minutes, trying to will my legs to move. It was like I was frozen for a moment.
Finally, when I pushed myself up to a standing position the nerves reconnected
and I remembered to put one foot in front of the other.  I kick my panties
off my ankle and slide my skirt off.  Somehow I managed to wrangle out of
my bra (thank goodness for teen girl slumber parties where such skills are
taught), but leave the shell of my ripped blouse over my shoulders. One piece
of dignity isn’t too much to ask.
     
    I walk into the
mammoth bedroom and see him naked on the bed. He points to a glass of wine and a
saucer of cheese and water crackers on the nightstand.  I sit on the bed
then swing my legs up, the soreness inside me giving me a sweet memory only a
few minutes old. Marcus props himself up on one arm, his hand holding his head,
and grins at me.
     
    “ Who are you?” I ask.
     
    “ I’m just a guy who wanted you to know I accept your apology,” he
laughs and looks down, an oddly boyish quality shining through.
     
    “ Well then,” I say, blowing my hair up from my forehead in an
effort to cool down. “I shall be sorry more often.”
     
    ~

Chapter 5
     
    I make one last
check in the mirror before Chloe whisks us to Jordan’s hotel suite.
    Jacket pressed?
Check.
    Blouse loose enough
to billow, low enough to be suggestive, but not slutty? Check.
    Skirt lined up
correctly on my hips (I hate it when women have their skirt crooked).
    Stockings instead
of hose? Check.
    Pedicure? Check
(thank goodness for the Eliott House card!).
    Shoes polished,
heels high, toes open? Check.
     
    I’m dressed exactly
the way I think Jordan will enjoy. Oh, and I’m ready for the interview too.
Marcus was kind enough to send some notes on August’s book so I can appear to
have read the whole thing.  I’ve tried several times to pick up that book
and read it. The truth is — it’s too beautiful for me.  His “words” swirl
and take shape in ways I can’t explain. It’s like looking at a poem written in
lace through murano glass.
     
    Chloe already has
August with her when she arrives at my door. I don’t know where Marcus found
the suit the boy is wearing, but it’s at least a size too big and looks like it
may be eating the author from the inside out. The jacket may swallow him whole
before we are done for the day.
     
    “ Remember the rules,” Chloe instructs as we drive through the
Boston traffic. She seems to have the pattern down for driving in Boston: stop,
go, honk, finger, and go anyway.  “Answer only direct questions. Don’t
offer information. If he asks about Philly the answer is you were overwhelmed
by the response to your idea. If he asks about drugs tell him that you are not
here to address egregious rumors.”
     
    “ What’s that word? What meaning?” August asks me, digging in the
folds of his suit for a pen. I can tell he wants to write it in the composition
notebook clutched nervously in his hand.
     
    “ Egregious, August. It means without any evidence or facts.
Ridiculously wrong,” I say helpfully, wondering if I should spell it for him
then deciding to let it go. I don’t want to make him feel like a