Sleeping with My Boss (and his son?)

Chapter8

Sleeping with My Boss (and his son?) Part 8

No sooner the words leave my lips, he forces me down on the couch and holds my wrists in place. Fire in his eyes. "A door down the hall? He doesn't know you're here with me? Alone with me?" He stares down at me. "Why'd you lie to him, Madelyn?" His head lowering so his mouth is next to my ear, "and I promise you won't miss sleeping in his arms tonight. Tonight you'll be in my bed. In my arms. As long as you're in my home, you're mine." The jealousy flashing across his face is a huge turn on.

Feeling like challenging him, and refusing to give in to him right now, "The hell I am. Now get the fuck off of me. I'm hungry." The challenge in his eyes exciting and terrifying. "Get off of me, Mr. Carrington."

He doesn't look pleased, but he moves and storms out of the family room to the kitchen. I follow behind him as he angrily unpacks the food. Pastas and salads and bread sticks. He grabs a bottle of wine from the wine cooler under the counter and places it on the counter. I watch as he prepares our food separating everything onto two plates. He pours two large glasses of wine, one of which I grab and drink down quickly. I set it back on the counter next to his. As I watch him, his jaw ticks as he refills it. He moves our plates to the table, now much more intimate in the dim lighting he has on, than it was this morning. I grab our wine glasses and move them to our place settings at the table, taking my seat. He joins me a moment later with the opened bottle of wine and a new bottle.

We both begin to eat, stealing glances as we do. The salad is wonderful. Full of feta cheese and Kalamata olives, a divine Greek dressing on top. The pasta and bread sticks cooked perfectly. And the wine, it compliments the meal perfectly. This glass, too, is almost gone before either of us speaks. I've calmed down now and know one of us has to break the silence. Finishing off my second glass, I refill it with the remainder of the first bottle.

Looking at Dimitri, he eyes hold mine. "Dimitri," I say gently, cautiously, "what was that in there?"

He sighs deeply, places his fork down, and closes his eyes. Running a hand over his face. "Dammit, Madelyn. I was jealous. I was jealous of your fucking husband and I don't like it." I reach across the table for his hand, the wine possibly having more to do with it than anything. He laces his fingers with mine.

"Why, specifically were you jealous?"

He is quiet long enough that I don't think he's going to answer. And then, quietly, "hearing you say you missed his arms around you when I was fucking you last night isn't something I cared hearing."

His admission shocks me. It also makes me laugh. Lightly at first, as I try to hide it, and then uncontrollably. Within moments, I'm holding my stomach with tears running down my face from laughing so hard. I look up and he looks less than pleased.

I move and kneel down in front of him. Grabbing his hands, "Dimitri, I'm sorry. I didn't think it would offend you, but think about it. I have to respond as I normally would while gone this week. And I did miss being in the arms of a man when I slept. I've slept in bed with him every night for 16 years, minus a few handfuls of nights over the years when kids were sick or something." Your jaw is still tense. "Look at me." You have a flash of amusement as I give the order, but you humor me by doing as I directed. "You aren't wrong. You did fuck me last night. And it was mind blowing, but it also made me feel guilty, and I still ended up in bed alone." I pause. "I've never done anything like this, never even thought about it or considered it. Work with me here."

I don't know why, but I can't seem to shut up. I don't owe him anything. But in just 24 hours, our entire dynamic has changed. I'm his employee, yes. But I'm also his mistress. And I don't know how to be her yet. I didn't even know I was missing out sexually until last night.

He stands up, and I stand to join him. He pulls me to him, "ask me." Two words, but I know what he is asking me to do. And making yet another choice, I do.

I untie my robe and let it drop the floor. I turn and walk down the hallway, hearing him follow behind me. Opening the master bedroom door, I enter into a room meant to be shared by him and his wife. He follows me in and remains silent. Stopping, I turn to him. "Make love to me, Dimitri," I ask timidly.

He shakes his head. "Wrong question."

I take a step backwards, toward the bed, "Fuck me, Sir?" I say, sounding much more confident than I feel. And then, when he doesn't respond, "please, Mr. Carrington."

It's like a switch. He moves to me and before I realize what's happening, he is pushing me back and falling on top of me on his bed. My legs open instinctively, wrapping around him. "Yes, Dimitri..." I moan, as he palms my breast and squeezes, his beard rough on my neck as he kisses and bites me.

He lifts off me some, "Do you trust me, Madelyn?" I nod, I can't make myself speak. His face is dark. Menacing. Threatening. I question what I just agreed to. He leans up, his knees on the mattress between my legs. Still wearing his shorts and briefs, me completely naked before him. "Be a good girl." He motions to the headboard. "Lay in the middle of the bed and close your eyes."

Nodding again, "okay," I whisper. I scoot up and do as he says. As soon as my eyes close I hear him getting off the bed and moving throughout the room. I want to open them, but don't.

After what feels like an eternity, and after hearing far too many questionable noises, he returns to the bed. "So beautiful, Madelyn." I hear a lighter strike and almost open my eyes. Before I can question it though, he has my wrist and is tying something around it, he pulls my hand above my head and I feel the restraint tighten. He mimics his movements with my other hand and soon I can't move my hands more than a few inches away from the headboard. The next thing I feel is him laying fabric across my eyes, "lift your head so I can secure this." Obeying, I lift my head, somewhat awkwardly given the position of my hands and arms. Once the blindfold is secure, he moves away from me. I lay in silence, straining to hear him, anxiously awaiting whatever he may have planned for me.

Feeling exposed and on display, the minutes pass. I have no idea how long I've been laying there. Finally, I call out, "Dimitri...?"

Silence.