Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance by Kara Hart (good books to read for beginners txt) 📗

from trembling, holding on to the tingling euphoria. “Oh, yeah, baby, I’m about to come,” he moans.

My nails dig into his skin as I come up for air. “Come with me.”

“Fuck...”

Marc doesn’t slow down, even when I’ve caught my breath. After about 10 more thrusts, I feel his cock swell and bob erratically. He’s losing control, carrying a shocked expression that lasts. When I feel him explode, it’s inside me, and it’s everything I thought it might be.

But thank God I’m on the pill, or this might get messy.

Wave after wave of orgasm, we come together. And even when we’re both back to baseline, we’re going again. A second time is necessary. A third time is to seal the deal and make things official. But our fourth time is just absurdly hot.

When the clock hits four in the morning, we’re exhausted, sweaty, and there isn’t a spot in the motel room that hasn’t been touched. The maid is not going to have a great time cleaning this place up later.

Marc brushes my bangs from my eyes. “Your body… Your gorgeous face...” He leans down to kiss me once more. “You are so perfect. So out of this world. How did I get so lucky?”

I hope he hasn’t gone soft on me. At the very least, his dick is still harder than a brick wall. “We both did,” I say. “We’re perfect for each other.”

He curls his fingers around mine. “Let’s promise to never leave this,” he says.

I kiss his knuckles. His chest. Lastly, his lips are begging for me. “I promise.”

“I promise.”

I’m sure of one thing, and one thing only.

I am in love with Marc Wylan. I couldn’t run even if I wanted to.

Marc

I wake up feeling like I died and went to heaven.

Ali’s body is spooned against me, her hips and curves so form-fitting and perfectly aligned that I have to actively fight the urge to reach out and cup her right breast in my hand. I do it anyway.

“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur as she stirs in my arms.

I want to tell her to stay in bed. I want to take her in my arms and make love to her. But there are a thousand reasons why I can’t.

I check my phone. The number of missed calls is almost at triple digits. Sandra, Brian, and Jim are like the trifecta of annoying assholes.

I haven’t thought about Jim, the office, or that stupid fucking party for many blissful hours. Spending time with Ali makes me realize what life could be if I just didn’t have to deal with the bullshit. Today, however, is when everything comes together. The moment of truth.

Maybe I can avoid it…

There’s no way I can avoid it.

Ali turns, nudging her eyes with the back of her hand. “Morning, baby,” she says, giving me a sweet kiss. “Sorry. Morning breath.”

I kiss her again, this time with some tongue. “You can’t gross me out, Ali Greenwald,” I say, holding her chin. “Even if you are a farter.”

Her face turns hot and red like coals. “Your daughter is a dirty liar.”

Laughing and feeling a little sticky, I practically leap toward the shower. “Jump in with me,” I say.

Groaning, she rolls out of bed. “I guess I could use some hot water.”

She’s still wearing the same lingerie. Ali never really has to try to look hot. She could probably go without showers for weeks and still be the most attractive woman on the planet. The great thing is she doesn’t know it. It gives her the humility that rounds out her personality.

In the shower, I’m too tempted not to touch her. We fuck against the tile wall. We fuck on the ground. We fuck on the toilet. We fuck against the door. You better believe we fuck on the sink counter. By the time our checkout time hits, that entire bathroom is destroyed.

It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, which is why I’m so... fucked. Directly after we both came for the last time, she kissed my chest and sighed a breath of relief. Then she whispered, “I’m so excited to spend tonight with you at that party. I have a dress at home that I picked out. It might not be as flashy as the McQueen, but you’ll still be able to show me off.”

She still wants to go?

My brain replaces that dopamine and oxytocin with a fresh batch of cortisol and epinephrine. The immediate hit of stress nearly knocks me on my ass in the parking lot. As the driver waits near the open door, it feels more like a funeral than a time of celebration.

“Can you drop me off at my place? I’ll need to get Rowdy first,” she says.

I smile, but I’m a mess. “Anything you want.”

I just want Ali, alone. None of the other shit. At this point, I’d sacrifice everything for her. Except, if I do that, Sammy and I won’t be able to stay here. I’ll have to sell Momma Bear, and it’ll be Back to Manhattan, starring Marc and Sammy.

Inside the limo, she leans against my chest. I hold her, kissing the top of her head and breathing in her scent. If she hated Valentine’s Day and thought all men were bastards before, she’s never going to forgive me for this. I keep wondering how much longer I have before the guillotine arrives.

I used her image to stay solvent. Am I a fucking idiot?

As I pull into my driveway, the answer to that question is glaringly obvious. Ragamuffin is up against the window, barking her lungs out at the sight of me. Rowdy comes out of nowhere, too. Amidst the forgotten chaos of coming back to the real world, Sammy opens the door. She drops to her knees and mimics the dogs’ incessant noises.

“Ruff!” she barks. “Ruff, ruff!”

Behind her, the house looks worse than the bathroom in our hotel room. Another brand new couch is completely ruined. A lamp lay broken on the floor. The rug has some kind of