Beautiful Boss

“Fuck me,” I said, rocking my hips to chase the feeling, to get him to move. “Will.”

“Shhh,” he said. “I have you.”

He teased me anyway, coating himself in the slickness there before pushing forward.

Will had a tendency to lose himself for a few moments when he got inside me, to swear or say my name, to whisper incoherencies into my skin, as if he was so overcome to just be there that he might come at any second. Today was no exception, and he groaned against my hair, breath coming out in short, hot bursts as he moved slowly, inch by inch until his pelvis was flush against my ass, his flat stomach pressed to the curve of my spine.

“It’s so good,” he said, teeth nipping at my shoulder, hips moving in slow, grinding circles. “So fucking warm around me.” He sucked at my skin and took my breasts in both of his hands, squeezing them, pinching my nipples before sliding one hand down between my legs.

I was wet and slippery and his fingers migrated down, right where I wanted them. “There.”

“Yeah?” Will asked, and I nodded, whimpering as I felt my body clutch him. I tried to push back, tried to hold him inside me before he pulled out again. We moved together like that, the sound of sex filtering through the room, broken up only by the occasional thump or voices from the people in the neighboring apartments.

He sped up, relentless, and I searched for something to hold on to, some way to anchor myself. I reached behind me, gripping his hip with one hand and draping the other over the back of the chair, my cheek turned to the cool leather. His skin was slick with sweat and I dug my nails in, knowing that would only make it better for him.

Will swore, his breath ragged and hot against my back, and I begged, not caring if the people upstairs could hear me, the people on the other side of the walls. “Harder. Harder, Will. Please.”

“Fuck, Plum.” He sped up, frantic, and I could hear the slap of his skin against mine, the sound of the chair as the back legs cleared the edge of the carpet and scraped along the wooden floor.

“Oh God,” I gasped, “oh . . . Oh—”

I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of heat move from between my legs and across the surface of my skin before everything exploded into sensation. His teeth pressed to my neck, and his hands cupped my breasts, and his wild noises told me he was going to fucking come only seconds before he turned brutal and frantic, pushing so deep into me he was pressed all along the length of my body from thigh to shoulder.

We lay naked on the couch, me on my back with Will’s head resting on my stomach. “I’m sorry I left this morning,” I said, curling my fingers through his hair. “I know you said it was fine, but I wanted to say it again.”

He looked up, resting his chin near my hipbone. “I know, Plum. And for the record, you’re allowed to be mad and need space.”

“I turned off your alarm clock. I wasn’t being very nice.”

He laughed before leaning over the edge of the couch, returning with my backpack. “I’m sure we’re going to do or say a few not-nice things to each other over the next fifty years. If they’re all as nefarious as giving each other a couple extra hours of sleep, we’ll be in pretty good shape.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching him rifle through the front pocket. He lifted a marker before returning the bag to the floor, and pulled off the cap. “Decorating me again?”

He hummed as he began to draw.

A tree, roots that started at the edge of my hipbone and moved down, spreading. He filled it in, eyes narrowed in concentration as the fine tip of the marker moved back and forth, right up to the very edges of the design.

I lifted my head, peering down my body to get a closer look. “It’s like yours,” I said, motioning to the tree on his bicep, the roots that wrapped around the muscle.

“A little.”

“We should really look into getting you some coloring books,” I told him, smiling before letting my head rest back against my arm.

“Wouldn’t be quite the same, though, would it?”

I pushed my fingers through his hair again, watching the way the colors shifted in the dying light. I could feel the marker move, smell the ink, and when I looked again, I saw that he was carefully drawing individual leaves.

“Now when you go away Wednesday, I’ll still be there,” he said.

“You’re always here,” I said, touching the side of his face, tapping it gently so he’d look up at me.

His blue eyes were almost black in this light, so open and honest I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk out the door in the morning, let alone get on a plane and fly to California in three days.

Five

Will

Hanna left before the sun was up on Wednesday, bending to kiss my forehead on her way out.

“Bye, baby,” she whispered, thinking I was still asleep. “I’ll see you Friday.”

She turned to leave, but I pushed up, shuffling behind her to the front door, where she had her suitcase and laptop bag packed and ready.

“Can I make you some coffee?” I mumbled, squinting at her. “Put it in a travel mug?”

She laughed when I absently reached down and scratched myself through my boxers. Shaking her head, she told me, “Go back to bed, sleepyhead.”

“Think I’ll go run.”

Stepping forward, she kissed me, and wasn’t fast enough to get away before I pulled her closer by her hips, held her tight against me.

Hanna smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You’re so warm.”