Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance by Michelle M. Pillow Page A

tree bark against her flesh.
    Jackson drew his mouth from hers, his eyes questioning as he nudged her hip to spin her around. Her palms fell on the table, pressed flat as she leant forward. The cool juice from some of the vegetables wet her hands and she slid one to the side to push the sharp knife lying on the table further away. His tender fingers traced her scratches as he examined her. Warm lips brushed her side and she inhaled deeply.
    ‘I’m sorry about this.’ His words were so soft she barely heard them. He kissed her hip, moaning as his tongue glanced over her skin.
    Self-conscious, she tried to turn. ‘I should shower. I’ve been working all day.’
    Jackson stood and pressed his hips against her ass. The full length of his cock nudged between her cheeks, working in tiny thrusts as he rubbed against her. ‘Why? You’re just going to get sweaty again.’
    Jackson’s hips bumped her hard and he held her shoulder, the action ensuring she didn’t stand up straight. He continued to rock against her, the firm outline of his erection digging at her through the material of his pants and her uniform.
    ‘You’re tense.’ He groaned, urgently tugging at her elastic waistband, taking both her white silk panties and pants down at the same time. ‘Relax.’
    Zoe tried, but couldn’t. She worried about what he must think, worried that someone might walk in on them, worried that having sex with the one man who could make or break her career was a bad move, worried that if she didn’t he would punish her, worried that he would know just how badly she wanted to fuck him, how hot her pussy was, how she fantasized about screwing him all over this very kitchen. The sordid thought had just seemed to pop into her mind all day. When she walked into the large fridge, she’d imagine him sneaking in to warm her from the chilled air. When she cut vegetables, she’d imagine him coming behind her and fucking her just as he was now. Dripping ranch dressing on her finger made her think of sucking him off, of drizzling him in some flavorful sauce just so she could lick him clean.
    The sound of a zipper coming undone made her shiver. Naked , hot flesh replaced the material as he massaged his naked dick into the cleft of her ass. He didn’t move to enter, only working his hips in a slow, tortured rhythm. The fish continued to simmer on the stove, very close to being overcooked, but she didn’t care. His voice hoarse, he said, ‘You’re so tense. Talk to me about food. I want to hear your voice.’
    Zoe thought the request strange, but obliged. ‘Wednesday I thought I’d make cannelloni al forno.’
    ‘Oh, yeah?’ He reached around her hip and a thick, warm finger slipped along her wet slit. ‘What else?’
    ‘Maybe a tagliatelle with Bolognese sauce or spaghetti with olives and capers.’
    ‘That’s it, keep talking, it relaxes you for me,’ he urged, drawing the tip of his cock down. He pressed her shoulder so she lay almost flat and nudged her legs apart. She heard a wrapper being ripped open and glanced back to see him spit a condom wrapper to the side. With one hand he brought it to his cock. She couldn’t see, but could tell by his actions that he was quickly unrolling it onto his erection. ‘Come on, be my naughty little chef. What are you going to make for me?’
    ‘Oh, um,’ Zoe gasped, her hands working against the worktable. ‘Lima bean and, ah, pesto, um, cous cous.’ It became hard to think. The head of his cock rubbed along her slit, parting the folds. ‘Vermicelli with lemon.’
    Jackson thrust, prying her open. ‘Ah, I want to fuck you. I want to ride you so hard, stuff you full of my cock. One look at you and I can’t seem to control myself. I got to be inside you and when I can’t, I masturbate to the thought of you. I’ve come so many times today already and it still isn’t enough.’ He pushed deeper, as if forcing himself to go slow, to torment himself by denying his needs. ‘My balls ache