Caught by the Boss ✔️

24

HENRY/HECTOR

I sink into my bed, attuned to Leila, who lays in the next room. It has been an unexpected turn of events, but I'm glad she's safe with me.

Since I'm not commuting to work and I'm sure she will take the next few days off, we will be in close proximity. The thought should not excite me this much. The poor woman was robbed but the sinister part of me sees this as an opportunity. I'm already drafting a plan like a true businessman. There is no way I will mess this up again. No matter what it takes, I will convince her to allow me back into her arms—well, not that I ever made it there. I only got to love her virtually in the machine. Now I'm ready for the real thing.

I spent a few hours speaking with my lawyer. Tomorrow, the cops will come to take Leila's statement. I've had to pull many strings, but it's worth it for her. It's the least I could do.

I don't hear from Grace–and that surprises me. Hopefully they throw away the key. I'm done with that woman.

Once I shut my computer, I lean back on my office chair and look around. Over the past few months, I've made great progress on my latest helmet–the one inspired by Leila. I've never been great at romance, but I look forward to seeing her reaction. Something tells me she will love it.

I stand from my chair and head for my bedroom. On my way, I pass the kitchen and find Leila head-deep into my refrigerator.

"Damn rich people...this looks like a spaceship," she mutters.

I clear my throat. "Can I help you with anything?"

She jolts. "Uh, hey... where is your water?"

I chuckle as I walk to her side and point to a row of green glass bottles.

She cringes as she chooses a bottle and unscrews it. "I thought that was ginger ale."

"Sorry that my damn spaceship is so confusing."

She coughs and pulls the bottle from her lips. "This is water?"

"Yes. I like it."

She screws the top back on. "No, thanks. It tastes like when my leg falls asleep."

I shake my head. "Shall I offer you some tap water, then?"

"Please."

I hand her a cup of water and she sighs in relief. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow."

I need to go, because if I stay here any longer, I will kiss her. She looks stunning in the dim light with her hair ruffled around her shoulders. Wearing strawberry pajamas and a pillow line on her cheek. And knowing Leila, she would break a bottle of my fancy sparkling water over my head.

I hear her door shut, and the sound makes me smile, because I am usually the only person closing doors around here. Now, I am not alone.

I fall asleep. Hours later, I wake to my alarm ringing and a massive boner. I can't remember what dreams I had, but I'm sure they had something to do with covering strawberries in cream.

I pace around my room with my palms at my hips, bare-chested with my nipples tight and my dick pressing against my cotton pants. The tiles are cold against my bare feet, which helps cool me down.

I force myself to think of something unpleasant to get rid of my erection.

Depleting stocks...

Broken code...

Grace...

The last one does the trick, and my cock goes flaccid within a minute. I chuckle and change out of my cotton pants. I'm sure my cock will harden again around Leila. Jeans might have better luck at restraining the desperate bastard.

I haven't had sex in months and have grown tired of masturbation. But it's my fault. Had I not been an idiot and identified Leila months ago, by now I would have fucked her in every office, every car, jets and boats that I own.

I shrug a black t-shirt on and walk outside. The smell of pancakes leads me to the kitchen. I find Leila behind the stove, now dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Did you find your way around the spaceship?" I ask.

"Oh, good morning. I hope you don't mind but I asked your maid if I could make breakfast."

I study the table, and my gut tightens.  "You did not have to do this."

"I did. You've done me a few favors. And all though I'm still not the biggest fan of you and your electricity water, I have manners."

"It's not very manner-ly to make fun of my water."

She snorts and flips a sausage in the pan. "Sorry that I made fun of your grenade water."

"I ought to kick you out," I tease as I sit on a stool.

"Go ahead. You would come running back."

I can only laugh, because she's right.

— • —

I spent hours working in my office. The cops stopped by to take Leila's statement on the robbery, and I could tell she did not enjoy recalling it.

We mostly stay out of each other's way. She's in her room, and I'm in my office, still tasting the syrup from the delicious breakfast she made.

It's later in the day. I take a shower to prepare for dinner. I was thinking about offering Leila to take her to a restaurant.

As I stand under the shower head, thoughts of her awaken the demon between my legs. I stare in frustration at the many inches that stand erect, beaded with water and pre-cum.

I shut the water off and walk outside, wrapping a towel around my waist.

This lust will ruin me. Leaving the company didn't put a dent on me, although I had been so attached to it. But not having Leila might just kill me.

"That woman won't stop haunting my thoughts." I mutter, running a hand through my wet hair.

I'm so used to being alone in my home, that an unexpected knock at my door makes me miss-step. Before I know it, all six feet and two-hundred and fifty pounds of me are on the wet floor in the darkness since I slapped the switch on my way down.

"Fuck," I curse as I sit up. Annoyed that I've become clumsy. I'll need to get used to Leila wandering around the house.

"Hey, hey are you alright?" Before I can answer, the bathroom door opens, and Leila steps into the darkness.

"Leila," I growl.

"What?" She kneels beside me. "Let me help you." She blindly reaches and grabs my cock, and I practically come right there.

"Why is your wrist so spongy? Did you break it?"

"That's not my wrist!" I shout.

She squeals and releases me, running out of the bathroom. I stand up and wrap the towel around me again, my cock throbbing behind the thick material.

She has really done it this time.

I think of Grace until I'm flaccid, and change into jeans. Then I make my way outside and find Leila on the couch, staring at the blank television.

I sit a few feet beside her and stare at the television, too. We don't say a word. Too traumatized to even try.