Bad Boy Boss Read Free Page A

so bad I was almost dripping on the dais when he said it was time to quit.
    I dressed; he was still working on the drawings when I came out from behind the screen.
    “If you look in the meat keeper, you’ll find two steaks,” he said. “There is a cast iron grill in the drawer below the oven that fits across two burners. Leave it with both burners on high for five minutes. Rare is three minutes a side, medium is five; I like rare. Slice tomatoes and red onions with Russian dressing. I’ll make the martinis and bring a bottle of red wine at six o’clock.”
    Then he stepped up to me and put a hand in the middle of my back, and one on my breast, pulling me into him. As hot as I was already, my nipple went hard almost immediately. Then he kissed me, licked my lips and did it again. “You are so going to get fucked tonight,” he said and turned back to his drawings.
    Crossing back over to my cabin in the afternoon wasn’t cold at all; in fact it was rather nice. A squirrel jumped between the two oak trees over the door and startled me. I was feeling good, and I wondered if he was falling for me. I wouldn’t admit it to him, or anyone else for that matter, but I was certainly falling for him. I had never been touched quite so gently, never had five orgasms with any man. The squirrel chattered at me.
    “Okay,” I said. “I admit it, he’s getting to me.” The squirrel chattered back. “And you just keep your little mouth shut.”
    I found the steak and the grill. I even found a mandolin slicer in the very nicely appointed kitchen, once I started investigating. It sort of made me a little ashamed that I rebelled against my mother’s attempts to teach me to cook. I sliced a tomato and a small red onion, alternating slices on two salad plates. A former boyfriend went to cooking school so I knew some tricks, but no real cooking. I found a flavor injector and a bottle of A-1 sauce. Taking the needle off of the injector, I knew I could draw a circle of A-1 sauce around a steak. It didn’t do anything really, except look cool, but then it was one of the few culinary techniques I actually knew.
    He showed up at six, just as he said he would. I turned on the burners under the grill while he made the drinks. I didn’t change from the leggings and boots I wore to work. I did take off the sweater, which left me in a halter-top with no bra. I mean, he had been looking at me in the altogether all day; it was sort of hard to dress up to that.
    He surrendered the kitchen side of the bar to me and sat on one of the barstools on the other side.
    “Are you beginning to see what I meant about the relationship between an artist and his model?”
    “Today wasn’t abnormal?”
    “You have been my model for one day and I’m guessing no man has ever touched you as I have… or for that matter, as much,” he said. “I have to feel you as much as look at you to draw you. Physically, there is no man who knows you as well as I already do. And no man who has ever been as excited over you as you make me.”
    “I could say the same. No man but you has ever given me multiple orgasms. I was so turned on most of the day that I was afraid it was showing. It was embarrassing me.”
    “It was showing, but it’s no reason to be embarrassed,” he responded. “It’s charming, beautiful, flattering. Wasn’t I appropriately grateful?”
    Well, that sort of made me turn scarlet. “I don’t know how appropriate it was, but it sort of gave the day a high point.”
    “The day isn’t over yet,” he said and I just knew I blushed right over a blush.
    “You did this with her and she married a doctor? Obviously a gynecologist.”
    “A psychologist, if you must know. Actually, a professor at Cal Poly.”
    “She was Jewish?”
    “I’m not overly religious,” he said. “I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell.”
    “So I was raised Irish Catholic. You?”
    “Episcopalian, if pressed.”
    “Okay, well the first Jewish American president gets