More than once, a male employee has gripped his dick and mused aloud that he’d like to keep her company in that big mansion. It earns a laugh every time. It’s common knowledge that she’s beautiful, but I never really gave a shit about that information. Women are women and they’re all a pain in the ass. Every last one of them. Armed with the knowledge, I truly didn’t care whether I laid eyes on this genius CEO or not.
Well the tides have turned.
Severely.
My cock stiffens as I follow her to the employee break room, her sweet ass ticking side to side. Making me want to spit on it. Spank it with the back of my hand. Bury my face between those supple cheeks and tongue the little cherry-flavored hole in between. Don’t ask me how I know the flavor already—it’s just a gut intuition. She’s a virgin. All over.
And she’s fucking mine.
Can’t explain how I know. Something inside of me locked into place the moment I turned around and saw her there. As if I’ve been waiting for her my whole life—thirty-three years—without actually being aware of the missing piece. My soul knows, though. My blood is piping hot. My heart is stuck in the middle of my throat and there’s a whooshing sound in my ears.
I don’t know why she wants to speak to me or how I’m going to land this wealthy, beautiful—and clearly intelligent—girl. I just know it has to happen or I’m never going to feel whole again. Not now that I’ve seen her. Inhaled her roses and cream scent. Mine.
I stride ahead to open the door to the empty break room, biting my tongue until it bleeds to keep from touching her as she passes by. Closing the door behind us, I turn and watch as she wrings her hands, seeming to rehearse a speech under her breath.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“My name?” She stops fidgeting, her phenomenal golden eyes wide on me. “I guess you haven’t been working here very long?”
“Just about a week.” A couple of steps and I could have her on that desk with her legs spread. The image has my balls throbbing, my throat like a desert. Christ, I’ve never been this horny in my fucking life. Did she put a spell on me? “I played professional football until recently,” I explain, my throat like gravel. “An indoor league they’re trying to get off the ground. Unfortunately they’re going to have to do it without me, because I busted my knee. Six surgeries and it’s just not the same.”
“You don’t seem to have any problem lifting and carrying heavy objects.”
“Imagine how easily I could lift and carry you.”
Two red spots appear on her cheeks, and fuck me sideways, her nipples go stiff inside that flimsy tank top. Am I having the best dream of my life or does this angel think I’m hot? Because honestly, I’m not most women’s cup of tea. I’m too blunt and loud and messy. I’m sweaty and hairy and I take up a ton of space. But my gorgeous boss is pressing her knees together like she’s thinking of taking a ride on the Turk Express.
Could I actually be this lucky?
“Most of my problems come from quick stops, changing directions. Pivoting. Moves I need for football. Lifting boxes is easy.” I take a step in her direction and watch the pulse in the bottom of her neck leap. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“Miss Stoll.”
“Miss? Good. But I need the first name, too, cutie.”
“Oh. It’s Missy.”
My lips twitch. “Miss Missy?”
“Miss Stoll. Or just…Missy.” A groove appears between her brows. “I just realized that not a lot a lot of people call my Missy anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“Because that’s not the proper title for work. And work is the only place I’m around…people.” Before I can address that curious statement, she shakes herself and straightens her spine. “But that is neither here nor there. Mr. Turk, I came to the warehouse to warn you that human resources could very well give you a written notice for b-being b-bare chested on the shipping floor.”
I process that with a growing grin. “You came down here to tell me to put a shirt on?”
“For your own good, of course. I would hate you to have a black spot on your record.”
“Couldn’t you fix my record for me? You own the company.”
“It would be more ethical if you simply stayed out of trouble.”
“Where is the fun in that?” I close the distance between us until she’s braced on the edge of the desk and leaning back slightly, our noses only an inch apart. “Do you want me to put my shirt back on, Missy?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Oh, cutie.” I pick her up and settle her ass on the edge of the desk, listening to her breathing shallow dramatically. “That’s the only fucking thing that matters.”