Bewitching the Boss Read Online Jessa Kane

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
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Her breath comes faster. “You need me.”

“God, yes. Yes. I can’t live like this.”

A sob catches on the other end of the line. “You need me exactly as I am?”

I know what she’s asking me. Will I indulge her kink?

Will I accept a relationship that is purely physical?

I’d say yes to anything to see her right now. Anything. “Yes,” I respond, thickly.

Only two seconds has passed when my house alarm goes off. Loud siren wails pierce the quiet atmosphere of my bedroom. I turn around, frowning at the door leading to the hallway. What in the hell? “Hold on, Jane. Don’t come here yet. It might not be safe.”

“It’s safe,” she whispers in my ear. “Byron, it’s just me.”

My heart starts to pound so fast, I stumble somewhat in the resulting dizziness. “What?”

Am I dreaming?

In a trance, I pull on my briefs, walk to the bedroom door, open it and pass through. I travel through the hallway and take the stairs down, turning off the alarm from the control panel on the wall as I go, leaving only silence behind. When I’m one step away from the foyer, I see her. Standing in the shadows to the right of my open front door. And it all hits me at once, like a complicated formula that finally makes sense.

She has broken into my home.

Jane is stalking me.

She’s been stalking me since the beginning.

All of the email advertisements for her party planning service. Not to mention, the flyers left on the windshield of my Tesla. The way she knew my usual coffee shop. And now…unless she teleported, she must have already been right outside my house when I called her.

She’s been watching me.

She’s stalking me, but she only wants sex?

No.

No, that’s fucking impossible. I’m missing something. What the hell am I not seeing?

I don’t know. I’m going to figure it out—I need to understand Jane to keep her—but right now, all I want is to fuck her brains out. My God, I’m so hard, I can barely stand upright.

Admit it.

You like that she’s stalking you.

Oh my god, I do. It’s almost a relief. I’m not the only one going insane here. Going wild with hunger for her touch and taste and voice and thoughts. A major part of me wants to cross the foyer, fall at her feet and worship her. Kiss every inch of her body and tell her everything is going to be fine. I’m her man and I treasure her, faults and all.

But her conditions for coming here, for being with me, were clear.

I’m not allowed to do any treasuring. No, she requires the opposite. And once again, here I am, trapped in the powerful yen to satisfy her at any cost. Do it.

Don’t give it to her in half measures, either. My Jane gets all or nothing.

Something potent, a lot like power, surges in my blood as I cross the foyer, wrap a hand around her elbow and draw her out of the shadows. She searches my eyes nervously, as if I’m going to throw her out. Scold her. But she rocks back on her heels when she finds my expression purposeful, instead. Intense, steady and purposeful. And it excites her. Arouses her. Even more than the first few times we were together. I’m finally giving in, letting myself conquer Jane, exploit her, and she can barely breathe, she’s so hot for it.

Letting go of her arm, I reach down and strip off her skimpy dress, throwing it aside. When she stands in my cold marble foyer in nothing but a thong and heels, I circle around back of her, watching goosebumps rise on her arms, her shoulders. Watching her thighs squeeze together to keep from trembling. Listening to her breath accelerate.

I wind her hair around my fist, tugging her head back. “Did you bring me a wet pussy?”

A shudder wracks her, those incredible lips popping open on a sawing breath. “Yes.”

“Good.” I make my grip on her hair more forceful and watch her eyes turn glassy, aroused, her nipples rosy and distended. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to make a mess.” I use my foot to separate her ankles and she whimpers, her knees almost collapsing. “That horny thing is going to drip all over my floor, isn’t it?”

After a beat, she nods. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I bring our faces closer, look her right in the eye. See the plea for more. She’s begging me to keep going and my mouth, my mind, my body obey, dying to satisfy this beautiful being. All or nothing. “You can’t help what you are. Just a little girl who shows up after hours, hoping a man will use her. I bet that mouth is starved for the taste of cock.”

Without waiting for a response, I use my hold on her hair to push her down into a kneeling position, leaving her panting mouth inches from my tented briefs. It takes quite an effort to make this look smooth, because I’ve never gotten a blow job. This is my first one. To say my cock is excited would be an understatement. It’s so hard, my stomach muscles are straining from the intense pressure.


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