How to Kill Your Boss (23 page)

Franklin slapped a palm against the tile and twisted his fingers through my hair with the other hand. “Goddamn. Yeah, baby,” he groaned. His hips rocked with a palpable restraint. He wanted to pound my mouth. Thank God he held back. I wasn’t ready. Fingers pressed to the back of my head, he pushed deep, slow and controlled, all the while watching, gauging my response.

When he eased off, I slid a hand between his legs and played with the heavy boys hanging below his sex. My ego bloated with a potent sense of empowerment when I squeezed and his cock jerked in my mouth. I wrapped my other hand around the base of his penis and stroked in sync with the pulls from my mouth.

Franklin stopped me. “I want you in bed, not here.”

He helped me off the floor, shut off the water, and wrapped me in a towel. Drying himself in record time, he scooped me over his shoulder and carried me to our room. I disposed of the towel the moment he laid me down. Franklin studied my naked body with a wicked grin, then crawled over me. “Tell me you missed me,” he ordered.

“But I didn’t,” I teased, batting my lashes.

“Not even a little bit?” He prowled up the length of me.

I shook my head no.

On hands and knees, he braced my shoulders and tickled my chin with the head of his penis. “I missed you so fucking bad.” He leaned forward and rubbed the silky head on my lips.

Oh, God, what was he doing?

“Open for me, love,” he whispered.

I did. I parted my lips and raised my head to envelop him. Salty moisture danced across my taste buds, setting off a chain of fireworks in my belly. I relaxed my jaw and Franklin pushed himself between my lips, never breaching the limit of what I could take. My head was pinned to the mattress and he filled me so full, I couldn’t even roll my tongue across his flesh. Helpless to do anything else, I raised my arms and dug my nails into his ass.

“God, baby, your mouth. Fuck,” he grunted between thrusts.

I wiggled and writhed beneath him. Blood pumped so fierce between my legs I feared I would explode. I could swear, my pussy was jealous of my mouth, and if given a voice, would’ve screamed in protest.

Franklin pushed in one last time and rested there for a long moment before pulling out. He scooted down and claimed my lips, in that dominant way that assured me he was mine. Then he slid lower and kissed between my legs. I arched into him. The moment his tongue stroked my nub, I came hard, pinning his head between my legs. He latched on and sucked with heavenly, lethal purpose until my body slumped into the mattress and my knees fell open.

Franklin wasn’t finished. He probed my slit with his expert fingers. His other hand slid up my torso and rubbed across my belly. “You’re so perfect, baby.” He kneaded the flesh just above my pubic area. “Soft, in all the right places.” He pulled his finger from between my legs and pushed two back in. “Tight where it counts.” He worked me until I writhed with want. “Tell me you missed me,” he ordered again.

I playfully shook my head no.

Franklin pushed himself off the bed, taking all the warmth in the room with him. “That’s a shame.” He strutted to the door, giving me a good view of his backside, and disappeared down the hallway. I heard the patter of bare feet travel down the stairs, then loud static as the television roared to life.

I expected him to return with his devilish grin. He didn’t come back.

Oh. Well, I could play that game, too. I slunk down the stairs and sat on the third step from the bottom. “I wasn’t finished with you. Are you coming back to bed?”

He sat with arms stretched across the back of the couch, knees spread wide, and a throw blanket draped across his waist. It did nothing to hide his arousal. His eyes remained focused on the television. The smirk he wore reinforced my suspicion that his thoughts remained solely on me. “Did you miss me, Killer?”

I leaned back and rested my elbows on the step behind me, then crossed my legs. “Hmm.”

He raised the remote and turned up the volume.

Bastard.

I uncrossed my legs and let them fall open. I shook with nerves, because I’d never done anything so lascivious. What had I become? Slut? Check. Horn dog? Check. Nympho? Check, check, and check.

He didn’t look my way. I slid my hand down the length of my body, resting it above the naughty zone, and let my fingers linger in the tuft of hair. Was I brave enough to go through with this?

Franklin’s eyes widened but never moved from the screen. I smoothed my index finger down the moist crease between my thighs, then drew it back up. God, it felt so good and so damned risqué. I did it again. Franklin’s nostrils flared.

I stroked myself once more, resting on the sensitive nub, then rubbed in slow circles. Oh shit. Yes. That was good.

Franklin slid the blanket off his lap and dropped it to the floor. His gaze darted to mine then back to the screen. He smiled wide then grabbed his erection.

Damn. He did play dirty.

I stroked. He stroked.

I moaned, hoping to make him look my way. He let his head fall back on the couch and fisted himself harder. I was turned on, but the sight of his hand wrapped around his sex nearly had me begging for mercy. Thick veins running up his forearm. The flex of his bicep as he pumped. Truly, a thing of beauty.

I spread my folds and pushed two fingers inside myself. It didn’t have near the effect his fingers did, but the knowledge that I behaved so wantonly had me wet and ready for more. With my free hand, I massaged my breast then pinched a pink peak.

Franklin’s strokes sped up. I circled my clit harder and faster. This was so not what I’d planned, but damn it was fun. His lips parted and lids lowered. He was going to come. I was dangerously close to orgasm myself.

No. This was not what I wanted. I wanted him in me, not across the room.

I pulled my hand off myself and slapped it on the step. “You asshole. Okay, you win. I missed you,” I panted. “I missed you. I missed you.”

He stopped pumping his sex and was on me in two strides. I leaned back on my elbows. Franklin grabbed my hips and raised them to meet his. “Say it again.”

“I missed you,” I whispered, trembling under the force of his touch.

His cock stretched and filled me with perfect, painful bliss. “That’s my girl.” He pulled out and slammed back into me. “Hell yes, you missed me. No way you can hide it. You’re so damn wet, baby.”

I gripped his forearms and held on while he pounded into me, again and again, each time driving deeper, grunting with unbridled, feral claims over my body. I whimpered, fighting back the painful surges of my oncoming release. When I could fight no longer, my head fell back and my hips tilted, seeking more. He held me tight against him while I came undone, until my last spasm. Only then did he pump again and let himself go.

He collapsed next to me on the stairs until we caught our breath, then led me to the bathroom to wash up before crawling into bed. I lay on my side and Franklin snuggled behind me, pulling me tight into the folds of his frame.

He twirled a piece of my hair in his fingers. “We can go home tomorrow.”

I sighed and my shoulders relaxed. “Can you talk about what happened?”

“No, love. I can’t”

“Will they come back?”

“They got the message loud and clear. Tony Wood has not risen from the dead and you are off limits.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, for lack of anything else to say.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” His body stiffened against mine. “How was your visit with Detective Waters?”

“Someone is setting me up, but at least Leland believes me.”

“I didn’t leave him much choice. You won’t go to jail. I can make the evidence disappear. We can vanish.”

“I don’t want to disappear. I want to know who’s doing this, and why me?” I told Franklin the details of my discussion with Leland. He listened without interruption, although I had a sneaking suspicion he already knew everything. When I finished, he kissed my head and rolled onto his back.

“This is so messed up. I can’t wrap my head around it. Dad was a lying adulterer.”

“Baby.” He turned toward me and spread his fingers over my heart. “Your dad was a good man.”

“Good men don’t cheat on their wives,” I snapped. “Or lie to their daughters.”

Franklin huffed. “I understand your hurt. If he had extramarital affairs, aside from my mother, I didn’t know about them. He worshipped you. That’s the one thing I know for sure. Okay?”

I rolled away from him in protest and curled up on my side of the bed. It was cold, lonely and too far from the skin-to-skin I craved, so I rolled back over and snuggled in.

“When we get past this shit-storm, you better start talking.” I couldn’t shuffle through the piles of lies that were my life, and I didn’t want to try, not yet anyway. I could, however, hold on to Franklin and remain grounded—at least for now.

* * * *

Franklin shoved his cell back into his pocket and stretched his arms over his head, gripping the molding above the kitchen door. “The funeral is on Saturday.”

I sat on the couch and admired the view. “Detective Waters told me. He arranged a flight for my mom. She’s arriving Friday night. Will you go with me to pick her up?” Mom knew nothing about Franklin yet. There hadn’t been time to tell her, or anyone.

Franklin’s forehead wrinkle did its stress thingy.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Unease swirled through me like an oncoming fog. “Why not?”

He dropped his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Her husband had an affair with my mother. I don’t want to rub it in her face, do you?”

“Of course not. Nevertheless, we’re together. We can’t avoid her forever. Am I not supposed to date you because my dad was a cheating bastard?” My voice raised an octave. “She doesn’t even know who you are. Chances are, she’ll never make the connection.” My heart raced, panic tightened my throat.

“Tate. You’re right. Calm down.” Franklin closed the distance between us. He gripped my shoulders and tilted his head, scrutinizing me, as if searching for sanity in a sea of crazy.

I sucked in a big gulp of air and released it in slow bursts. Jeez, why was I getting so worked up? It would break my heart if I couldn’t share Franklin with my family. Would I have to choose between him and them? Would our relationship, or whatever it was, have to be kept a secret?

“Is it safe to go home then?” I asked, needing a change of subject.

“Yes, baby. The police haven’t found Masters yet, but they’re following some solid leads.”

“Why me?”

Once again, his face filled with stress wrinkles, no doubt carved by the secrets he harbored. “I don’t want you to worry. I'll take care of it.” He knew something. Damn him. I didn’t pry. We were about to go home. I wanted to be in a happy mood when we got there. I also hated to see the strain of conflict mar his handsome features. So I attempted to lighten the mood.

“I’d never had sex on stairs before,” I announced.

His wrinkles disappeared. “I’m aware of that.”

I dropped my chin and batted my lashes. “I liked it.”

A storm brewed in his eyes. “Did you now?”

Warmth rose up my neck and rested on my cheeks. “There aren’t any stairs at my house.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

“I’m not sure I got it out of my system yet, you know, the sex on the stairs thing.”

“Damn, Killer. You say the sweetest things.” He undid his belt with super speed. I jumped to my feet and shimmied out of my jeans. My panties followed, then my shirt and bra. I leaned toward him and pressed my palm over his hard-on. “I hate you, but I love this.” I squeezed him, excited by the way it swelled in my hand. If I kept that up, we wouldn’t make it to the stairs. I let him go, turned and sauntered across the living room.

I ascended a few steps by foot, then crawled on hands and knees a few more, nice and slow.

“Stop right there.” His large hand splayed across my left butt cheek.

Oh, my. I leaned on my elbows and looked over my shoulder to see him. For crying out loud, those eyes. Bewitching. They cast a spell from which I could never be disenchanted. Franklin moved in behind and tickled a finger along the length of my womanly place.

Then he lowered his head and licked. Holy shit. Licked me from nub to…to that other hole. The naughty hole. My body quaked. Every cell danced with smutty pleasure. It was dirty and taboo and I loved it. He did it again.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, pushing my rear against him, begging for more. My back arched, my face pressed into the cold, hard step—a perfect contrast to his warm, rough licks.

He stroked and stroked, then pushed his tongue inside me, just a tease. I rocked, unabashedly grinding against his face—starving, begging, crying for more.

“Holy Christ, Tate,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”

I trembled with the need to come.

“Turn over.”

I did as commanded. He still wore his jeans, unbuttoned and pulled halfway off his hips. He laid over me, holding most of his weight on his arms. Comfortable, it was not, but I didn’t care. My only thoughts were of how he’d fill me, take me, make me his over and over.

“I can’t make this soft and slow baby. I’m dying.” The deep tremble in his voice made me quiver.

“Uh, huh,” was the only sound I could manage.
Stick your dick so far inside me I can feel it until next week
was what I wanted to say, but that wasn’t lady-like and I didn’t want to shock him flaccid and ruin the mood.

I grabbed his ass and pulled his hips toward me. He plunged, I arched, banging my head against the unforgiving wood. It was frenzied, painful, and exciting. I wanted to crawl inside him. Pull him inside me. I didn’t know. Just be closer, be one with this perfect male.

He cupped the back of my head, buried his face in my neck and pounded me senseless. My legs shook with the strain of trying to hold my hips off the hard corners. It was savagely brutal and beautiful. Pressure built. My face burned with the flow of blood. My insides coiled.

His grunts and heavy breaths in my ear only wound me up more. I craved so desperately his skin, his touch, words and eyes on me. My desire for this man would be my undoing.