Bewitching the Boss
And my heavy-lidded beauty can’t do anything but nod. “Yes. I’ll wear your ring.”
“And be my wife.”
“And be your wife.” The dam breaks when she’s about to come, her little heels digging restlessly into my lower back. “I’ll make you so happy. I’ll follow you anywhere. I’ll never leave your side. Never. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Her confession spurs my climax and I grit my teeth, smacking into her, rubbing the base of my shaft on her clit in fast, fast strokes, bringing us both off in a shaking rush of groans, grasping hands and hot plumes of liquid. I look her right in the eyes as we go through the storm together and she stares back into mine. And I vow in that moment that nothing, nothing will ever separate me from Jane, this girl who has brought me out of a numb existence. Made me enjoy life again. Gave me love. Gave me a home.
Her.
She’s my home. My world.
A world that nothing can bring crashing down.
Nine
Jane
The Halloween party is in full swing.
And I’m dressed like a princess.
Part of me can’t believe Byron actually convinced me, but then again, is there anything he can’t convince me of? I watch him from across the room now, pulse fluttering in my wrists and throat. Between my thighs. On his way back to me from the bar, he’s been waylaid by some employees who are giving him a good-natured ribbing about his Prince Charming costume. He’s laughing at their jokes, not self-conscious about his attire in the slightest. How could he be anything but confident after my reaction to seeing him dressed like a fictional prince for the first time? I can still taste his hot, frothy pleasure in my mouth. Hear his moans in my ears.
Am I really going to marry this man?
Do dreams come true to this degree?
I am going to be living, eating, sleeping and breathing my obsession very soon.
And I don’t think my conscience is strong enough to stop me anymore. Not when I’ve gotten to know the real man, gotten to know his heart and mind and habits. I’m not equipped with enough willpower to do the right thing anymore. God help me.
Byron gives me a lopsided smile, apologizing with his eyes for the delay in coming back to me. I also notice him scoping out the vicinity for men, assuring himself that none of them are approaching me. My fiancé is extremely jealous.
That thought alone is enough to make me breathless, flushed.
In an effort to appear normal in public, I tear my eyes off Byron and look around the party, thrilled to see that everyone is having a good time. The DJ is playing Muse, the orange and purple lighting playing off the tress makes the space appear to be an enchanted forest. Several of the employees are participating in the crime scene, making notes on their clipboards with predictably nerdy expressions. In the far corner of the hall, there is a fortune-teller doling out predictions. Authentic food stands advertise carnival food. People are dancing beneath the black light candelabra, glasses of rum punch in hand.
Byron blocks my view of the room, sliding a cold glass into my hand and dropping his mouth to mine. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look standing over here?” he rasps. “I’m not going to be able to restrain myself much longer.”
I exhale roughly against his mouth. “You never have to restrain yourself with me.” He takes my wrist without hesitation and begins leading me toward the exit. I stop him with a giggle. “Unless every eye in the room is on you, including those of several influential journalists.” I bite my lip and rub my knuckle along the curve of his erection, where only I can see it happening. “You can be professional for one more hour, can’t you? We haven’t even visited the fortune-teller.”
“I’ll give you your fortune right now,” he says, grazing my ear with his open mouth. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life happy, loved. Well fucked and wanting for nothing. How does that sound?”
My ability to breathe goes out the window. I can’t seem to gather any oxygen into my lungs and my knees are beginning to wobble. There’s an immense warmth inside of me that feels like happiness. Contentment. I’m afraid to move or speak for fear that it will burst.
“Jane?”
“You still overwhelm me,” I say, grateful when he wraps an arm around the small of my back and pulls me tight to his body. “I’m not t-totally used to having you up close yet.”
“Shhh.” He kisses my cheek, my forehead. “Neither am I, but we’ll get there together.”
I nod and let him pull me into a slow dance, right there in the shadows, a twisted princess dancing with her Prince Charming. I’m not sure how long the dance goes on for, because I transcend to a dreamlike state that makes me feel like I’m floating. That’s how Byron makes me feel—like I’m levitating. And I could stay here all night in his arms, but I want him to enjoy the party, since every single detail was done with him in mind.