Hard & Hungry Boss Box Set Read online

  “Helene?”

  “The chef. She might make an appearance a little later, but I asked for some privacy. She planned everything personally.”

  I look at the card to see what we’re in for, but I realize it’s in French. I’ve gotten rusty. Lucy didn’t seem to have any trouble.

  “Why did you become an interpreter?”

  Lucy seems a little self-conscious at the question, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.

  “I was a natural polyglot in high school and college. That service track was just the best fit for me.”

  “Did you know Arabic before you joined?”

  “No. I went to a training school for language. I didn’t deploy, but I worked for Military Intelligence.”

  “When did you learn French? High school?”

  “No, high school was Spanish. I taught myself French.”

  “Taught yourself?” I ask, uncertain I heard right.

  Lucy smiles. “I did. I was about eleven or so and I went through this phase where I loved all things French. My Aunt Cece had all these old movies and musicals at her house, and when I would visit she showed me American In Paris and Phantom of the Opera. I dreamed about the Seine and artists and can-can girls. The whole thing. I even made my mother buy me a beret.”

  “Did she pencil one of those little mustaches on you, too?”

  “No. But she did bake me those croissant rolls that come in a can, every day for a whole month.”

  “The height of French cuisine! No way we top something like that tonight.”

  Lucy laughs. “So since I couldn’t go to Paris, I borrowed CD lessons from the library and taught myself French. Made me feel sophisticated. But that’s how I figured out I could pick up language easily.”

  I’m impressed with her skill, yes, but more distracted trying to picture Lucy in a beret. The image isn’t that difficult, actually. In my fantasy she’s wearing it and nothing else.

  “So have you been? To Paris?”

  Lucy’s face falls in a rueful smile, and she shakes her head no. I realize I hate it any time she looks even a little sad.

  “I’ll get there. Someday. I thought the Army might get me to Europe for some kind of assignment, but it didn’t happen.”

  We continue to chat about travel and life over five courses, each presented by a small team of waiters and attendants. Lots of Lucy’s stories involve Aunt Cece, and I gather the woman is Lucy’s favorite aunt. I can’t stop peppering Lucy with questions about herself—where she grew up, went to school, what she thought of New York. The wine is flowing, but I’m more intoxicated by this woman than by anything else.

  Finally, after patiently answering all my questions, Lucy tilts her head to ask. “But what about you?”

  I shrug. “If you know my company, you know all about me.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “All work and no play. I’m a dull boy.”

  She smirks. “Not according to TMZ. Or Fast Company. Or Time.”

  “We have excellent P.R.”

  “So you didn’t used to race cars in Monaco?” She seems a little disappointed when she asks.

  I put a napkin to my mouth and cough. I did do that, a long time ago. “Some of the stories about my exploits in my twenties are true. Maybe. The rest is a tycoon image to keep the shareholders intrigued.” A fact Nicole drove home more than a few times when she left, I think to myself, but don’t say.

  Lucy cuts into a veal chop. “My dreams are dashed. When I first came to work for you, I was sure you were Bruce Wayne. I’m still waiting to meet Batman.”

  “Nope. My father was Batman. You’re a generation too late.”

  She chuckles at my joke, but then she gets serious. “Was it his passing that ended your playboy career?”

  “It’s the reason I took over Breson Company, sure.” This is true. Twelve years ago my father died suddenly of a heart attack, and that’s when I stepped in as President. “I finished college and had a great time for a few years on his dime, living it up in Europe. But when he died, the company came to me. Time to grow up.”

  Lucy seems sympathetic, but it’s not something I like to dwell on.

  “Besides, someone had to keep my mother in the lifestyle to which she’d grown accustomed.” I crack the joke, but don’t share that my mother was devastated when my father passed. I was the only one she had left.

  “And where is she this month? I have a monthly reminder set in my office calendar to send her flowers, but the address keeps changing.”

  “Hmm, it’s October? Probably in the Hamptons.”

  Lucy smiles and sits back in her chair, her hand over her heart. “A boy who takes care of his mother. Who needs Batman?” She picks up her wineglass and sips.

  Distracted by the wine on her lips, I almost don’t catch her next question.

  “Anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  “Friends? Interests?”

  I try not to show it, but the innocent questions irk a little. Bad memories. So I punt.

  “You have my schedule, Miss Warner. You tell me.”

  “You play golf and travel for business. You’re in the gym every day. No time for much else.”

  “Like I said, if you know my company, you know all about me. Surely you’ve memorized the history of Breson Company, as a good employee should, haven’t you?”

  She laughs, “I memorized the ‘About Page’ of the website. Does that count?”

  “Prove it.”

  Lucy sits a little straighter in her seat and begins to recite: ‘‘’Founded in 1948 by Gerald Breson, Sr., the company began as a modest…’”

  To her credit, she does seem to have the whole thing down. For fun I pull out my phone and call up the website in the browser and make her start again. She finishes and, just to be a smart-ass, she recites the history again. In French.

  “No fair. I don’t know enough français s’il vous-plaît to check for accuracy.”

  “You doubt me?” she asks, mischievously.

  “At my own peril, certainly. Stellar job, Miss Warner.”

  She arches a brow. “Oooh, ‘stellar.’ My, my, you have changed your tune. Things are looking up for my review.”

  “Wear that dress to your review and I can guarantee you a raise. Pun very much intended.”

  Our eyes lock, but then there’s a break in the conversation as the team of attendants arrive with the final dessert course and wine. I watch Lucy ooh and ahh over the last course and I realize I’m having fun. This has been one of the most relaxed and natural nights I can remember for a while now. Certainly since Nicole. Even since I lost my old best friend, Jake, actually. In fact, I think that’s exactly it: being with Lucy feels just as much of a night out with a friend as it does a date.

  The kind of friend I also want to fuck seven ways to Sunday. But why sweat the details?

  The waiters leave and I interrupt Lucy’s delighted perusal of the elegant chocolate and berry confection with a question.

  “Should I have ordered champagne?”

  Lucy presses her napkin to her lips to hide her smile, and her eyes narrow, pretending to scowl.

  “You don’t like champagne. I’d be drinking alone.”

  I wince, remembering how I snapped at her. “I feel bad about that night.” After a heavy second I correct, “That part of the night, anyway.”

  Lucy’s eyes drop and she plays with the stem of her wineglass. Her lips twist in a little secret smile and she shrugs. “It’s ok. Now I know where you keep your scotch.”

  I’ve been half-hard since I climbed into the car tonight. Her little scotch reference from that night, and the memory of what followed, makes my erection almost painful.

  Looking around the room, I slide out of my side of the circular booth and stand next to the table, pretending to adjust my tie. When I can see the waiters have left us to our coffee and there’s no one else paying attention, I slide over to Lucy’s side of the booth. My back is to the room and I�
�ve boxed her into the booth so I can shield us from view. Lucy’s eyes go wide and then soft as I pull her hard into me for a kiss.

  I can taste the chocolate and rich coffee on her tongue, but there’s still the sweet taste of her, so much sweeter than dessert. Turns out I’m still hungry after all.

  Her lips follow in protest when I end the kiss. But then Lucy moans low and deep as I push a hand into the high slit of her dress, right between her legs. Her thighs close on my hand for the briefest moment, a half-hearted attempt to stop me. She has the wherewithal to crane past my shoulder, trying to see the room.

  “Are you crazy?” she whispers.

  I answer her question with my fingers, slowly, relentlessly pushing into her core. I can feel she’s even wetter than she was that first night. Hotter, if that’s even possible. When Lucy’s head falls back and she arches against my palm, all I can think is that I can’t wait to make her do the same thing when I have my cock inside her later.

  “Tsk, tsk, Lucy. You’re not watching to make sure the waiter’s not coming to check on us.”

  Her eyes flutter open and meet mine. “Do you want him to come over and see? For everyone to know what I’m doing to you?”

  She looks past my shoulder to the restaurant beyond my shoulder and then back to me.

  I twist my fingers deeper, so the heel of my palm is right against her clit and I can feel her start to grind against me, squirming to get higher, closer.

  “Keep watching. Or they’ll know.”

  She’s torn between how much she likes what I’m doing to her and the fear of getting caught. I lean in close and whisper through her hair. “You’re going to come for me right here, you know that, don’t you? In front of everyone. Tell me yes, Lucy.”

  She’s getting closer. I pull out a bit and flick her clit with me thumb, and then sink in deep again, over and over. “You’re going to come for me here, just like you came on my mouth last week, aren’t you? Say it.”

  “Yes, Dominic, yes. Oh god oh god,” Lucy chants softly under her breath the closer she gets, and I smile when I remember she did the same thing the first day when she spilled the coffee. And again, the day she came on my desk.

  “And when we’re finished here, you’re coming home with me. You’re going to lift up this dress I bought you and let me fuck you in it, and then you’re going to come again. Only this time on my cock. Do you understand?”

  She tries to pull me close for a kiss, but I don’t let up. “Come for me baby. And then come back with me tonight and let me finish you right.”

  She bites her lip and I know I have her then. She chants one more low, “Oh god” and then I feel her tight pussy clamp down and pulse as her body spasms deep around my fingers.

  I take my hand away and soothe her as she comes down, her breathing returning to normal, her color still high. I glance over my shoulder and check. No one’s watching. Satisfied, I pull her close to me and wait for her to get calm and straighten her dress before I sit back and meet her eyes.

  “Had enough?” I ask. We both know I’m not talking about dinner.

  Her eyes glow when she replies. “Not a chance.”

  Check please.

  7

  Dominic

  I asked the waiter to have my car brought around to the back. I paid the check and we ducked out through the kitchen like mobsters.

  The door to the car isn’t even closed before I hit the glass partition and we’re tearing into each other like animals. I have no idea how I find the strength not to rip the damn dress off her the second we’re alone. But I still have plans for Lucy. Instead, I settle for dragging her up to straddle my lap.

  She’s wild, tearing at my shirt, grinding her hips and pussy onto my hard-on through our clothes. Incredibly, the friction is almost enough to make me feel like I’m going to come before I even get inside her. To distract her—and myself—I take her wrists in my hands and hold her hands behind her back.

  Which might just backfire. The spark of challenge in her eyes when I hold her back almost ignites us both. Without a word, she lifts up, clamping her thighs tighter on either side of mine, arching her back, offering herself to me. The draped fabric drops off her shoulder and, the way she’s arching up, the fabric just keeps sliding further and further down to the very edge of her breast. I only have my mouth and teeth to urge it to fall the rest of the way, which is more than enough. Lucy goes crazy, pushing her nipple into my mouth, the rest of her grinding down harder, faster.

  She bucks and I switch to her other breast, biting her nipple through the fabric. She bucks and tries to slide down off me, but I won’t have it. I let go of her wrists to grab her ass and keep her planted right where she is, my cock surging up so she can feel how hard I am. Hands free, she’s back to tearing at me, only this time, her hands homing in to my belt buckle between us, tugging and pulling. When I don’t let her slide down or away, she bucks again in frustration.

  “Let me,” she says against my mouth, in between nips and kisses. “Let me touch you. Let me—“

  She can’t finish the thought because I’m tasting her mouth again. Her neck, her nipple.

  “Let you what, Lucy?” I tease her, loving the whimpers and moans she makes when the words stop making sense.

  She pulls back, the look on her face hungry and naked. Her mouth opens and I know she’s about to say something hot and absolutely filthy, but we both feel the car ease to a stop. We’re at my building, and I only have a few seconds to slide her off my lap and help her re-drape the dress before the driver comes back to open the door.

  The night air is crisp and cool when we step out. Lucy peers up at the high-rise and I have to fight the urge to throw her up against the nearest pillar and fuck her there. Instead, I slide my hand to the small of her back and urge her to my private elevator.

  I pull her to me again when the doors close, anxious to keep going. She kisses me back with the same heat from the car, but she’s clinging, rather than climbing me. To my surprise, I realize Lucy suddenly seems nervous.

  The elevator doors open on a private entrance directly to the penthouse apartment. Lights are programmed to blink on low when we step in. I stand back and watch Lucy step into my apartment for the first time. As my assistant, she has a key to my place, but I realize she hasn’t had any reason to visit or stop here since she started working for me. I know it’s an impressive first look. The entire far wall of the penthouse is glass, opening out on a view of the city that rivals even my office—but that’s the only thing that speaks bachelor pad in my place. I’m not a black leather and glass kind of guy, preferring deep heavy woods and stone.

  Lucy is drawn to the view, just as I was when I first bought the apartment. She walks to the glass, peering out, a sexy, dark silhouette against the lights and the night sky.

  As a good host, I should show her around, make her feel at home. And I do fully intend to give her a tour of the whole place. I just can’t promise she won’t be flat on her back through most of it.

  Lucy turns to me. She has a silk wrap around her shoulders. As I get close, she lets it flutter from her shoulders and fall to the floor.

  “Do you want a drink, Lucy?” I say the words with no intention of bringing her anything until I take what I want. She doesn’t move as I stalk to her.

  She shakes her head and I move in tight and close, trapping her body between mine and the glass. She doesn’t hesitate, that initial nervousness now gone. I don’t kiss her, just press close, pushing her back so she has to widen her stance, her shoulders blades pressed to the glass as she uses the leverage to press her hips into mine. Her hands come up to my neck and try to pull me down to her, but now that I have her here, with no chance of interruption, I’m going to take my time.

  I let her pull me close, but I move to her neck instead, skimming her skin. I flick my tongue out lightly, and I feel her arch and almost purr. The sweet, spicy scent of her perfume has been in my head all night.

  The perfume is hers, but everyth
ing else on her body tonight is from me. Terribly ungenerous of me, but I’m pretty sure it’s time to take it all back.

  She protests when I pull away and press her back to make her stay against the glass. When she tries to follow, I spin her around and take her hands into my wrists again. Pressing my erection to her ass, I bring her hands up and press her palms forward on the glass. She stays pressed there, but arches her back against me, shimmying a little so that my cock is aligned perfectly with her ass.

  “Stay here,” I whisper into her ear and step back. She tenses, but obeys. The lines of her legs are long, her lower back arched out. I slide to my knees for a brief moment and press my face to the soft notch between her cheeks. That gorgeous taught ass is pressed to my face, my mouth at her opening. Lucy presses against the glass, shimmying back again. She gives a tiny shriek and moan when I push away, but she stays where I left her.

  Still kneeling, I slide my hand up the inside of her thigh and tease her pussy with my fingertips. Her slit is dripping, the wetness between her thighs slick. But I have a little more in mind.

  “Hike the dress up, Lucy. Over your hips.”

  Lucy tries to see me over her shoulder, but I stop her before she can turn.

  “No. Stay where you are. Just hike it up. Show me your legs and that tight little ass.”

  She hesitates a very short second and then her hands slide back. Inch by inch, she drags the edge of the dress up past her hips, exposing thigh high stockings and a black silk thong. Without letting her move, I drag her thong panties to the side and, leaning up on my knees, I nudge and nuzzle my face firmly between her pussy and her ass. Lucy shrieks and breathes deep. I feel tremors go through her, and she’s shocked as I swirl my tongue over her puckered asshole, moaning deep when I drag my tongue lower and down to her pussy. The surprise gives way to the pleasure and only a few seconds later she’s trying to grind her hips again, her hand reaching back to fist in my hair and hold me there as I work my mouth back and forth between her pussy and her ass.

  Just as I bring her to the edge of another orgasm, I pull back and bite her right cheek. She jumps and moans, but her voice is low and deep as I stop. When I stand and press my cock to the back of her ass, she’s clinging to the glass, her breath fogging it. I still don’t let her turn around, and I swear she almost stamps her foot in frustration.