Bad Boy Boss Read Online Free PDF Page A

side of it.”
    “Now I see the pockets. So… by the ball or by the game, and are shoes and socks separate?”
    “By the game and shoes and socks are four separate strips.”
    “Top to bottom or bottom to top?”
    “Top down, except for panties and underpants, winner gets to pants the loser.”
    “Done.”
    Well, he was good and it wasn’t my game; still I was good enough at straight pool that a ‘poor little helpless beginner’ like me could hustle a few bucks from time to time. My mistake was to let him win the first game so I had to take my top off. It was a strategic mistake to assume I could use my tits to distract him… should’ve figured that out when he didn’t rape me all day long; what can I say? I get pretty stupid around him sometimes.
    He won with both socks still on, though I could tell that I surprised him a bit. Next time I come over I’ll bring my cue, then we’ll see who gets who’s panties.
    He lifted my legs, one at a time with his hand behind my knee to remove my panties, then he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom; after the day I had just spent, the flesh to flesh contact almost produced an orgasm. He pulled down the cover and laid me under the blanket and comforter.
    “If I turn the heat down to sixty-two, you and I will have a very clingy night. Back in a sec.” He walked out, obviously to turn down the heat. He came back, did his minor strip and got in next to me.
    I lay there and waited. I was prepared to wait all damn night if I had to. After what he – or actually Laurel – had done to me, it was up to him to follow through.
    The first moves were tentative. He was well aware that his cradle robbing ex-lover’s technique had pissed me off. I realized, though, that I had some of my own techniques. Maybe it was time for me to teach him a thing or two.
    I pushed him on his back, moved my leg over him and straddled him. I began to ride him fast, and then I would slow down to barely moving. I lifted myself onto my knees so I was only making contact with the tip of his cock. I loved feeling myself slide over the tip, over and over again, reaching behind me to help hold him in place.
    Then, as soon as I saw he had relaxed into the sensation, I took a deep breath and impaled myself. The movement was so fast, he gasped for air and I grinned to see his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I repeated the varying speeds several times and finally, when I could barely stand it any longer, I rode him fast and hard until we exploded again.
    He held me for a while, from behind, licking me between my shoulder blades, rubbing my breasts and maintaining the heat. Then he decided to play my new game. flipping me over and torturing me in the same speed-varying fury.
    He came and I just turned to liquid. After my third – fourth? I’m not sure. I’d lost the ability to count by then – orgasm, we flopped together, satiated. I scared the hell out of myself, because I said, “God, I love you.”
    I was so embarrassed, I wanted to hide in some small box somewhere and just scream. I moaned and looked away from him, burying my face in his pillows.
    Peter made me look at him. It took some persuading to get me to lift my face from my downy hiding place, but finally, I brought my eyes to his.
    He said,
    “In 1973, my mother was a journalist who worked for a major publication. My father was a soap opera actor. Rich people do these things, having no reason to make an honest living by working. My father was thinking about getting into producing, so he and a friend had a workshop for script development through NATAS, the people who do the Emmys. My mother called and got my father who happened to be in the office that day. They talked for two hours. He met her the next Saturday. A month and three days later, they were married at the UN chapel because he was an Episcopalian and she was Jewish. No one in his family or hers knew until December when she got a Jewish ceremony on the second.
    “I am the