Taking Her Boss Read Online Free PDF Page A

we had both sank into our own thoughts. His hand rested low on my back as we entered the structure. It would have been a chivalrous thing to do, but it felt as though he was doing it more for himself than for me, as if he was giving in to his need to touch me. His hand was large and hot and burned through the cotton of my dress. I sped up a little to relieve some of the tension, but he kept pace with me and for a minute, it was as though we were both hurrying to get somewhere.
    It was late. The garage, lit intermittently with fluorescent lights, was dim. It was always darkest near my car, which was parked in a corner near the elevator. I was glad Bruce was here. He stood over me. His body a half-circle fortress around mine as we waited. We took the elevator up to the floor reserved for Davies and Birch. A concrete wall separated my car from the glass enclosure that housed the elevator, a gray slab that blocked out light and created a blind spot that hid my parking space from the protective eyes of the security camera. Bruce’s and Birch’s cars were parked to the right, behind the other concrete wall in the spaces reserved for the executives. Because we worked for Bruce, Claire and I were given optimum spaces next to the elevator. Birch’s assistants were in the same bank, next to me and Claire. It had been a not so secret bone of contention to some of the higher earning account execs and department managers, but Bruce had dismissed their bickering and innuendoes. When one of the newer execs complained that he’d never worked for a company that gave secretaries better parking spots than the high rollers, Bruce had simply said, “They’re not secretaries. They keep me functioning atmy best. I need them near and on time.” Since then, the guys have kept their comments to themselves.
    He took my hand as we left the enclosure, and led the way to my car. “I could come home with you,” he said as he pressed me back against the car door and his mouth against mine. It was good. He tasted wet like beer and hot burger and man. He leaned in and my hip nudged the door handle. I kissed him back. He groaned and pressed his luck allowing a hand to stray behind my back and down to cup my bottom. The hard notch of him pushed into my waist and belly. I shoved at him. His hand was under the skirt of my dress. I shoved him again, but not with much force. His hand moved to the elastic waist of my panties and stopped. His mouth still claimed mine, his tongue a comfortable weight hovering at the entrance and teasing the inside of my lips.
    “I just want to feel you.”
    I shook my head and he deepened the kiss.
    “Just a little,” he whispered, and kissed my cheek.
    He tugged at my panties again, pulling them down my thighs. I let him, lifting first one, then the other foot so that he could slip them off and into his pocket. A breeze glanced over my newly bared skin followed by a large warm hand and fingers that burrowed into the dampness, searching and finding my center. I clutched at his shoulders, my fingers crushing the fabric of his jacket as his plucked and stroked and inflamed me. I could barely think but I could hear the clink of his belt buckle and the purr of his zipper. The subtle musk of his cologne wafted up to me as my mouth found his neck in the loosened collar of his shirt. His skin was warm and salty. The texture was slightly rough where his beard was trying to grow back. I ran my tongue over the tiny spikes and then gnawed them with my bottom teeth. He groaned and snipped my chin with his teeth. I opened my legs wider in anticipation. He lifted me up by my bottom, his hands slipping and cradling my thighs as he pressed me more firmly into the car. Only the linen of my skirt and a pair of large warm hands shielded me from the cold steel and glass. I lifted my legs to embrace his now, the rasp of his nearly naked thighs against mine in their thigh-high nylons causing a tingly friction. He slid in further, the knob of his