My Favorite Boss Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
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“I am tidying the supply room in the hall. It’s a disaster.” I walked to the door, glancing over my shoulder. “Just like you.”

In the supply room, I looked around, mentally organizing the room. It blew my mind that with the number of extra assistants they had, no one ever came in here and fixed it. Granted, the room was small—a closet, really, but it could still be tidy. I propped open the door that was known to stick, then opened a bag and got busy.

About an hour later, Bane stuck his head in. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

He grimaced, entering the room and looking around. “Looks much better.”

I snorted. “When was the last time you were in here?”

“A couple of months ago, looking for some printer supplies.” He rubbed his neck. “I didn’t find any.”

“They’re on the third shelf now,” I informed him, stacking some packages of copy paper. It amazed me, for a paperless environment, how much paper was used and wasted. Bending, I grabbed another cartridge for the printer, stretching up on my toes to try to put it on the top shelf.

Bane was suddenly behind me, taking the box from my hand and easily reaching the top without any problem. “You need a small step stool.”

“No room, really.”

He bracketed his arms on the shelves, crowding and caging me in. “No, it’s a pretty tight fit.”

I felt him aligned with me, our bodies meshing with perfection. His hard melding to my soft. He lowered his head, his lips ghosting my neck. He moved his hands, grasping mine, the feel of his skin hot. I inhaled, smelling him. Warm. Rich.

Bane.

“Stop,” I whispered.

“You’re angry with me. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like being a convenience.”

“You’re not, Magnolia. You’re so much more.” He pressed his lips to my neck. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

I knew Bane didn’t apologize. He never seemed to care for others’ opinions. But he did care about mine. He cared about me in his own way. Which, most of the time, was wonderful.

“I’m not a tool to keep your mother away.”

“I know.”

“I’m not a toy. I have feelings.”

He slid his arm around my waist. “I know,” he murmured in my ear, teasing the lobe with his tongue. I shut my eyes, trying not to whimper. He pulled me closer, and I felt every inch of him. Every. Single. Hard. Inch.

“I love your feelings,” he murmured. “They remind me to be human. You make me feel too, Maggie darling. Sometimes it scares me how much I feel for you.”

With a little cry, I turned, flinging my arms around his neck. He took my mouth, kissing me with a desperation that had me curling my toes. He kissed me as if he needed me more than life. I kissed him back, shocked at how much he could make me want him so quickly.

“I need you,” I whispered as he lifted me.

“Hold on, baby. I got you.”

Like a pro, he pushed up my skirt, the lace parting for him as if it was welcoming him in.

“We can’t— The door⁠—”

In a graceful move, he stepped to the side, pulling the door shut. I heard the click as he locked the handle, and the automatic light went off, leaving only the dim EXIT light over the door to save us from total darkness. I reached between us, fumbling with his belt, and he groaned as I slid my hand inside his pants, caressing him.

“Hold on to the shelves,” he demanded. “Tight.”

I did as he instructed, and a moment later, I heard his pants hit the floor. Once again, he wrapped his hands around my thighs, and then my underwear was tugged away. When he slammed into me, I gasped, throwing my head back, hitting the shelf.

“Easy, darling,” he murmured. “I need you conscious.”

“Fuck me, Alex. Now.”

And he did.

I grasped the shelves as he began to move. Hard, tight rolls of his hips kept him lodged inside me as our bodies swayed together. He pushed me higher, opening me wider, and hitting me in the perfect spot, making me see stars behind my eyelids. There was no finesse about our coupling. No sweet words murmured. All I heard were the sounds of us. Our skin touching and gliding. Our bodies meshing, our breathing hard, bursts of air escaping. His low groans. My hushed whimpers. He surrounded me. Claimed me. Made me feel alive like no one else had ever done. Ever would do.

My orgasm hit like a shooting star, exploding me into thousands of tiny shards of light. He kept going, finally stilling as he succumbed, my name a long whisper in my ear. Then he sagged against me, burying his head in my neck, his chest heaving fast. He slid his hand up my torso, cupping my face and kissing me. Softly now. Sweetly.


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