Chapter 36

36

Lena

"I'm not going to sleep in your room."

"Yes, you are," JJ says so patiently, I want to punch him in the face.

"You're not listening to me. I am not going to sleep in your bed."

"You're going to sleep in my room, and in my bed," he snaps.

"Fine, I'm not going to sleep with you in the same bed."

He walks up the stairs, down the corridor, and uses his shoulder to open the double doors that lead to his room. Then, he crosses the floor and deposits me on his bed. I sit up at once, and swing my legs over the side.

"You are not putting weight on your foot. I forbid it."

I set my lips. "Oh, you forbid it? You forbid it, eh?"

"I do."

"And what makes you think you can stop me from doing anything?"

"I'm your boss… And the man who fucked you so hard you couldn't stop crying out my name as you spasmed around my cock."

His words sweep through me and arrow straight down to the space between my legs. I have to stop myself from squeezing my thighs together. Why do I find his dirty talk such a turn-on? Is it because of the assuredness with which he speaks those four-letter words? Or the confidence with which he glares at me as if daring me to challenge his order?

I scowl at him.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Are you going to lay back in bed, or am I going to make you lay back?"

"You wouldn't dare."

His eyes gleam. "There's nothing I'd like more than pressing you back onto the bed, then undressing you and?—"

"Don't you dare," I say hotly.

"There you go again, daring me." He takes a step forward, and I throw up a hand.

"Fine, fine. I'll lay down. But not with you."

"Where else am I supposed to sleep?"

"Anywhere else, just not here."

"This is my bed," he says in a voice that drips with exaggerated patience. Oh, my god, I hate it when he treats me like I'm a child. I do.

"That is exactly my point. This is your bed. You want me in your bed. And that's fine. I'm willing to sleep here, just not with you."

"This is a big bed. You sleep on one side, and I'll sleep all the way over on the other side."

I glower at him. "Oh, no, you're not pulling that on me."

He raises a shoulder. "You can sleep on top of the covers, for all I care. But you are going to sleep in my bed, and so am I, Lena."

He turns around and heads toward the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" I ask, then snap my lips together. Why the hell do I care where he's going? And why did that come out sounding so needy?

"To get you ibuprofen for the pain," he calls out over his shoulder.

"Oh." I let out a sigh.

He returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and two tablets that he hands over to me. I wash them down with the water.

"Thanks." I place the glass of water on the bedstand.

"I'm going to get you something to eat." He turns and leaves.

I glance around the room. I saw it, of course, the last time I snuck in here, but now, I'm taking in the details. The plush dark blue carpet on the floor. The bookcase that takes up one entire wall. The sectional in front of the fireplace on the far side that makes for a cozy seating area. A door set in the wall on the other side, which I assume leads to the closet. And the bed I'm seated on which is large. It's a super king-sized bed. So wide that we could easily sleep without touching each other. Tiredness pulls at my muscles. My limbs feel like they weigh a ton. I lower myself onto the pillow and yawn. I snuggle into the bedsheets and my eyelids flutter closed.

A delicious warmth cocoons me. Mmmm. I rub my cheek against the soft—no, the hard surface, which is also soft. How is that possible? Thud-thud-thud. The reassuring beat of his heart mirrors the beating of my own. I turn my face into the warmth and inhale. Notes of sherry oak and cinnamon fill my senses. A slow pulse flares to life between my legs. I wiggle my toes and my foot feels fine. Huh? Guess I'm not hurt as badly as I thought I was. In fact, my entire body is tingling with a sense of well-being. I tighten my hold around the wide surface that is also warm. And muscled and?—

I snap my eyes open. It's dark in the room, but I can make out the acres of ripped planes. Grooves, divots… pecs. I'm staring at his pecs. His very deliciously-sculpted pecs with a smattering of hair on them and that deep groove that demarcates them. And there are scars. Scars big and small pepper his chest. The skin above his nipple is puckered. Is that a gunshot wound? It is a gunshot wound, and it's so close to his heart. My own heart spasms at the thought. How did he get that? Was it in a gang war? I heard Isaac mention that JJ once belonged to an underground gang.

Seeing him in meetings in the conference room of his office, I'd never have believed it. But the marks on his torso are a testament to the kind of life he's had. It doesn't take away from the beauty of his physique. If anything, it lends it a dangerous edge. And his abs? He must work out a lot to maintain the shape of those corrugated abs which dip down and disappear under the white of his sheet. The sheet that outlines the length of his powerful legs as he lays sprawled out on his bed. His bed. I'm in JJ's bed… in his room… in his arms. To be clear, I am on him . All over him, to be doubly clear. I have my arm flung around his massive chest, my leg flung over what must be his thighs and—I stop breathing. That thick, hard, fat rod that's stabbing into my upper thigh is his cock. He's not wearing briefs. How dare he get into bed without wearing briefs? Also, thank God he's not wearing briefs.

Also, not only am I clinging to him like a python, but his python is ready to return the favor, and in spades. I draw in a breath and the scent of him intensifies. Moisture beads my center. Pinpricks of heat shiver up my back. Perhaps he senses it, for his shaft seems to grow even thicker and longer. My fingertips tingle. Should I? Shouldn't I? I glance up to find his eyes are shut. His breathing is even. His chest rises and falls, and there's no change in the cadence of his breathing. Guess he's still sleeping, eh?

I lower my hand to his crotch. Then, making sure he's asleep, I close my fingers around his dick. It instantly throbs and fills my palm. I try to wrap my fingers around the girth, but my fingertips don't meet. I know… You think I'm exaggerating. But honestly, that's not true. My fingertips. Don't. Meet. Jesus, and he stuck that inside of me? No wonder it hurt… Before it felt good. So damn good. My thighs quiver, and my mouth waters. How would it feel to have him down my throat, hmm? Keeping my eyes on his face to make sure he's asleep, I slide down the length of his body, making sure not to touch him, until I'm positioned with my face over his crotch.

I inhale deeply, and his musky scent—a mixture of spice and sweat—sinks into my blood. I lick my tongue over the swollen head, and his column seems to swell further. I squeeze my fingers around the base, then close my mouth over the tip. I swipe my tongue around the rim and his length fills my palm. Jesus, how much bigger is he going to get?

He's carrying what amounts to a baseball bat between his legs. No wonder he has big balls. It's because he literally has big balls. It's why he's so full of himself. Why he comes across as so dominant, so confident, so authoritarian. He can afford to be all of that. Not only does he have the money to back up his stance, but he has the cojones to support his ego. I tilt my head to take him further inside, and he seems to swell. He's filling my mouth, pressing down on my tongue, pushing up into the roof of my mouth. My jaw begins to hurt. Saliva drips down my chin, and I pull back. My breath comes in puffs. The hair on the back of my neck rises. I glance up to find him staring at me. My heart flips up into my throat. Adrenaline laces my blood. I begin to pull back, but he digs his fingers into my hair and holds me in place.

"Why don't you finish what you started?" His hard voice rumbles across the space, and my nerve endings crackle.

I tighten my grip around the base of his cock, and he inhales. His chest planes seem to harden, and his shoulders swell. He seems to grow bigger. A plume of heat seems to rise off of his body and slam into my chest. I gasp. My core clenches, and I'm ashamed to say my panties are now completely wet. I squeeze my thighs together, and one side of his lips kicks up. He seems to know exactly the kind of effect he has on me.

"Suck me off, little girl," he says in a hard voice, and pinpricks of heat dot my back. "Now," he commands.

I drop my head, close my mouth around his cock, and swallow. A groan rips up his chest. I bob my head and take him down my throat, making his thigh muscles go solid. I gag, then swallow, and he slaps his palm into the mattress. Something like victory courses through my veins. This is Mr. Big Balls JJ and I have him where I want him. At my mercy. With his dick down my throat. Bet I can make him come quickly, and hard and long. Bet I can make him lose control the way I've often wanted to see him come undone in the office. I bring my hand up and cradle his balls. I squeeze them as I continue to suck him off. In-out-in. With long sweeps I pull out until the tip of his cock is balanced at the edge of my mouth, then lean in and swallow around his shaft.

He growls. "Fucking hell, Lena, do that again."

He wraps his fingers around my throat. I lower my head until he slides across my tongue and down the column of my throat.

"I can feel my dick down your throat." His voice is thick with desire… and lust… and strain. Like he's still holding back. I pull back, then plunge down, again and again. Spit drools down my chin. I scoop it up, then slide my digit up the valley between his ass cheeks. I brush his puckered opening and he stills. I slide it inside and brush his prostrate, then massage his balls. At the same time, I swallow around his cock and his entire body seems to shudder. "You're killing me, girl."

He tugs on my hair, and my scalp tingles. I increase the intensity of my motions, and every muscle in his body seems to coil in on itself.

"I'm going to come," he gasps. I glance up at him, then deliberately lower my chin and take him down even deeper. His dark eyes flash, and a current seems to run from his shoulders to his belly to his thighs. The planes of his chest swell and he shoots his load.