Under My Boss's Direction: Office Romance Collection With New Novel by Jamie Knight (books to read to be successful .txt) 📕

me back down on the bed, no doubt to give his arms a bit of a rest, gently pulling out of me. I wanted to stop him, but knew that I couldn’t, that it wasn’t right. We both had lives to live and had to separate at some point. No matter how nice it would be to do nothing but eat, sleep and fuck, it still required breaks to eat and sleep and I was just going to have to get used to it. Not that it was necessarily what was going to happen. More my sincere hope.

“Maybe I should run out and get some Plan B,” Ryan offered quietly, brushing a lock of hair from my face.

“No, it should be okay,” I tell him, blushing, “I’m between periods.”

“Did you like it?”

“The sex?”

“Yes, that, as well as me finishing in you. Have you ever done that before?”

“Not without a condom,” I admitted, “but yes, I loved it. It feels like being warmed up from the inside.”

“Good,” he said, kissing me on the cheek.

Before I could ask him for another go, he was already at the dresser, getting out a pair of black pajama bottoms. I knew even before he put them on that our fun was over at least for the moment.

“C’mon,” he said, taking me by the hand.

“I, um, I’m not actually sure I can, you know, walk right now. At least not in a straight line.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

Without missing a beat, Ryan scooped me up like I weighed nothing and carried me into the bathroom. No doubt where he’d initially been headed. Setting me down on the toilet, the cool porcelain of the lid surprisingly pleasant on my pussy, he ran a bath, filling the water with all sorts of lovely additions. I was nearly dozing by the time Ryan had finished washing me down. A fact he’d thankfully noticed and conveyed me right to bed.

When I woke up, the sheets were cold. Not the ones under me but the section directly to my left. That soft, cool surface greeting me when I reached out for Ryan I wondered for a second if it had been a dream. Like the cheap ploy used by television writers, unable to come up with a satisfying ending or a season. Pulling out the whole ‘it was a dream’ nonsense.

It did all seem a bit too good to be true. Especially the parade basically in my honor and the massive house in the middle of the woods. Something I’d been dreaming about, literally and figuratively, since I was little. Taken as a whole, it was as though my dreams had come true. Which only added credence to the idea that they really hadn’t happened and it was just another of my fantasies.

I opened my eyes, expecting the worst, but was still greeted by his same bedroom surrounding me. Hopping out of my bed, my nudity in no way a concern in the immediate, I went to the window, seeing a forest landscape bearing a striking resemblance to the one I remembered seeing on the drive out of the city.

More to the point, I remembered everything we’d done the night before, in exquisite detail, and felt the lingering soreness in my body. No matter how vivid the dream, I’d never had one reaching such a level of specificity. It had to be true, but where was he?

The answer came in the form of a note, fastened to the front of a lovely black dress down in a modern Victorian style. All puffy sleeves and lace but with a much shorter hem. I’d probably have to put leggings on if I was going to try wearing it outside, but it was a lovely thought. Ryan hadn’t been kidding. Either about his tailoring experience or the uncanny ability to size someone up by looking at them.

The dress not only fit perfectly but actually flattered me. Accentuating my assists, particularly my legs and boobs, while hiding what I saw as my flaws. Even if I had the strong feeling Ryan would disagree with the designation. He seemed to like every part of me, at least going by the tender attention he’d paid to my entire body. I grinned at the memory, my pussy getting noticeably warmer. Despite the temptation to do something about it, the note had said to go down to the kitchen as soon as I was up, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.

The smell hits me full in the face, causing my tummy to audibly rumble. It was wonderful, bringing back several happy childhood memories.

“Morning, my darling,” Ryan said, standing at the stove.

He was dressed for the day but in what I guessed for vacation gear. Gone was the tweed and Oxford cloth, replaced by vivid white Chuck Taylors, black jeans and a rust colored cable-knit sweater. Still very nice and far more appropriate for a life in the wilderness. I had to wonder if that was what he was like most of the time. Who he was when he was at home, comfortable.

Maybe the fanciness was something put on because it was expected of his office. I tried to figure out which version of him I honestly liked best, in case it ever came down to a choice. Even though I leaned toward the version cooking me banana pancakes and maple bacon at the vacation house, I couldn’t honestly say I disliked either version of him. On balance, they were both him, just seen in different contexts. If anything, he was privileging me by letting me see his domestic face. Something I doubted few people ever had.

Turning off the gas burners, the blue flames extinguished to nothing, he came over to the table and kissed me tenderly, before gingerly returning to finish off the preparation.

“Like it?”

As with the sex, it was some of the best