Caught by the Boss

25

LEILA

My fingers twitch, remembering the shape and texture of the fat cock I gripped. How embarrassing. I can never face this man again. If Grace appeared on the doorstep, I would beat her up again just to be taken away to a cell, away from Hector.

"Um... were you hurt?" I ask, unable to look at him.

I still care about him, even if I feel like crawling into a hole.

"Perhaps my cock. You might have squeezed too hard. If you wanted it, you could have just asked."

"Oh, gosh," I cover my reddening face with my hands, only to pull them away when I realize I had just been gripping his dick with the same hands.

He chuckles. "I'm fine. It's all forgotten. Would you like to watch a movie? That would be more interesting than the dark screen we're staring at."

I nod. "Okay, but I wanted to talk to you about my stay here. Now that I gave my statement to the police, I should return to my apartment and work in a few days."

I don't think he likes that. A huff of displeasure comes from him. He shifts his feet, widening his stance. Going on the offense, it seems. Does he feel threatened?

I should be flattered about how much he wants me to stay. But I know it's not ideal.

"You know there is no deadline, right? You may stay here as long as you'd like."

"I don't know... if that would be appropriate," I whisper.

He clears his throat. "Is this about the dick snatch? Because I assure you, I was not offended."

"Um... no. Not about...that."

He picks up the remote control and clicks the television on. "I understand," he says, voice cold. "Would you like wine?"

"Sure, thank you."

He stands up and walks into the kitchen, and I study his retreating figure. Broad, tall. Relaxed. A king in his palace.

I wish he didn't wear black t-shirts. They are detrimental to my mental health. Distracting. Gripping his muscles tightly—just like my palm was snug around his cock.

I can see a peek of his tattoo, calling for me. And I know that as we watch the movie, my eyes will constantly stray away from the screen and onto him.

I thought he was handsome in the office, but he is so much more dangerous here. Because this home is cold with its running AC. It's unknown with its many rooms. Everything about this place is directing me toward Hector's warmth and familiarity.

He returns with wine glasses, and as he approaches the couch, I notice how his footsteps sound heavy. He's truly massive.

"Hey, how tall are you?" I ask him.

He hands a glass to me. "Six five. Why?"

I shrug a shoulder. "Wondering how big to build the coffin. I don't know if I'll stand you over the next few days."

He chuckles, and I smile. But my lips quickly drop when he sits next to me—closer than ever.

"What do you want to watch?" He asks, looking at the television, unaffected by our touching thighs.

"Hmm... can't go wrong with a documentary?" I say.

He clicks a wildlife documentary. And as I watch the powerful land animals—bears and wolves, I can't help but compare them to him. His thigh is massive beside mine and his hand dwarfs the remote control.

My sexual drives are overclocking. My skin is heating, my mouth dry, my leg against his bouncing, my heart throbbing.

I take a few sips of my wine, looking away before he catches me staring.