Fifth Avenue Fling: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy (Billionaires In Charge)
Fifth Avenue Fling: Chapter 26

Two weeks later

“Eyes locked on me,” I command.

She obediently lifts her chin and locks her gaze onto mine as she takes my hard shaft down her throat.

“Yes, that’s it. Show me how much you want it. Take me like a good girl.”

My mind savors the sight of her; her vibrant emerald eyes alive with emotion, her freckled nose and voluptuous lips enveloping my cock in her mouth. This vision has been playing in my head nonstop, stealing me away from work.

How could I not after the filthy few weeks we’ve had? My cock has had so much stimulation that I’m amazed it’s still intact.

“Yes, beautiful,” I groan as I hit the back of her throat and shudder. I clench her locks in my fingers, resisting the temptation to thrust even harder. “That’s it. Keep doing that. Good girl.”

Damn.

Sensory fucking overload. Every suck feels incredible, sending tingling vibrations straight down my spine. The warmth of her pretty mouth, the little whimpers she makes, the look in her eyes that shows how much she wants to please me as the water drips off her face and chest from the shower.

Am I wrong to find her gagging so arousing?

Her pace quickens as she slides my throbbing cock in and out of her mouth, devouring me from base to tip.

“So. Damn. Good,” I pant through gritted teeth, pressing one hand against the shower wall.

Now I’ve taken control. I’m fucking her mouth. I let out a hard, heavy groan and fist her hair tighter as I thrust into her mouth.

She makes a soft mewling sound. I have to force myself to check that she’s not in pain, but when she looks up at me with those big green eyes, all I see is that she wants to please me.

“I’m close,” I growl through grated breaths, my gaze fixated on hers. I should warn her that if she keeps this up, she’ll be choking on my cum.

The intensity builds within me until I can no longer control it. Every muscle coils tightly, and my body shudders with pleasure as I emit a guttural groan. My balls feel like they’re going to explode.

“Fuck.” My cum pulses out, filling her throat, and I grasp her head so she takes it all.

“Damn, Clodagh.” I let out a husky laugh as my breathing returns to normal. “I’d die a happy fucking man tonight, sweetheart.”

I raise her gently off the shower floor and into my arms. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair clings to her forehead. “Breathe, sweetheart. Relax.”

“I think I’m going to have to practice by holding my breath in the bath. You’re a big guy.”

My low laughter rumbles through the shower stall as I lace our fingers together and step out. Neither of us says a word as I wrap her in a fluffy towel, drying her body with gentle touches. Fucking hell, feeling her curves is making me hard again already.

She stares at me as I carry her to her bedroom, her lip twitching as if she wants to say something but is lacking the words.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She smiles and nods.

I lay her out on the bed, naked and ready for me, and climb on top of her. Softly, I kiss her neck, the curves of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts until I feel her nipples harden and her back arch in response.

“Too soon?” I ask, searching her face.

“No,” she breathes. “I want you inside me.”

I thrust my cock into her, relishing the sensation.

She winces, her hands pressing against my back in resistance.

I groan as her muscles clench around me, squeezing my cock. It feels so good; I could just stay inside her and never come out. The more she tightens around me, the quicker I’m going to come.

I wait until the tightness in her relaxes a bit, fighting hard not to thrust into her wet warmth.

“Easy,” she moans a bit as she adjusts her hips to take me all in.

“Breathe, Clodagh.” I smile down at her, running a finger over her bottom lip. “Relax.”

Her pussy clenches around me, and it feels fucking amazing. It always feels amazing. It drives me wild knowing I’m the only man who has made her orgasm.

She makes me feel like I’m in a warm, delicious bath, spending Christmas in St. Barts, running the New York marathon, opening my first hotel. The best fucking feelings in the world all rolled into one.

I slide deeper into her sweet little pussy, staring into her eyes.

My hands tighten around her hips, and I can tell by her face that I’m grinding against her clit with each thrust.

“Ahhh, you’re so deep,” she moans, her fingers digging into my back. “You feel so good inside me.”

A deep, throaty groan escapes me. Her whimpers are enough to send me over the edge.

She knows exactly what she’s doing and exactly how to push my buttons.

I come hard in her tight little pussy, my hips shuddering and shaking with the force of my release. Coming like I won’t stop. Because the Neanderthal in me wants to own her. Wants to make sure she’s full of my cum.

Finally, I let out a deep breath and collapse on top of her, our bodies still intertwined. I press my face tightly against her neck, devouring the scent of her skin.

She purrs in contentment against my forehead. Her legs wrap around my waist like she has no intention of letting go.

I pull away a bit to look into her eyes. “You didn’t come. But we’ll get there. Soon, you’ll come all over my cock.”

She takes her lip between her teeth and drops her gaze to my chest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I place my finger under her chin and make her look at me. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. Alright?”

She nods shyly with a small smile.

“Good girl.” I press a kiss to her nose. I never want her to feel like there is a problem because she doesn’t climax during sex. But I’ll be damned if I don’t die trying. Because I’m the one who’s going to get her there.

And the only guy who’ll have the privilege of making her come. The thought enters my head abruptly.

I take my time with my mouth exploring her jawline, breasts, her soft stomach, and the skin just above her swollen, beautiful pussy until I can feel her breathing change and her lower stomach quiver from desire.

I gently push apart her thighs again. Her legs tense a little as if she wants to push me away, so I have to go slow. Be patient. All good things come to those who work for them.

I glance up to see her eyes closed and her arms splayed on the pillow. Slowly, I make my way to the sweet spot between her legs. I move back and forth with my mouth, my tongue flicking against her clit each time.

I don’t stop until I hear those beautiful whimpers of pleasure and feel that sweet pussy let go for me.

Only me.

I watch her face contort and her breathing become jagged as she arches her back and really rides my face. She squirms and writhes above me, letting out little grunts and moans that send me wild.

“Killian,” she cries out. “Oh God.”

I’m certain nothing is better than this little green-eyed vixen’s legs spread open for me.

She has the most beautiful pussy. Her scent, her taste, her feel… I’m fully erect again.

She shudders as she lets go of control, and I fucking own her climax. Every whimper, every breath, every shudder is mine; I own them all.

Mine.

***

Fifteen minutes later, I rouse my head from the pillow. “I should go.”

“You could stay,” she replies, feigning nonchalance. “It’ll save you the trip home,” she adds jokingly, although there’s an unspoken question in there as well. “And I’ll even make you coffee and breakfast in the morning.”

Every night, I come to Clodagh’s studio to have sex with her, but I never stay. It’s a boundary I haven’t crossed.

“No, I better not.” I kiss the top of her forehead to soften the rejection. “But yes, you will make me coffee in the morning or else you’ll be punished.” I’m trying to lighten the tension of the elephant in the room.

She gives me a strained grin. “Tell me about it. My boss is a nightmare.”

I haven’t told her my plans to help her secure a green card, allowing her to stay in the US without issue. In a few months, when Mrs. Dalton is back and I’m no longer part of her life, she can pursue her carpentry wherever she wants.

I’ll move on from this fling and be free from ridiculous daydreams about my red-haired, inked carpenter.

I think about her at work. I think about her on my run. I can’t take a shower without jerking off.

My mind shifts back and forth between guilt over fucking a member of my staff—my live-in staff—and fantasizing about when I’ll do it again.

It’s the most obsessed I’ve been over a casual fling.

Which is why it needs to end.

***

It must be a midlife crisis.

That’s why I’m sitting in the boardroom surrounded by my business partners discussing the stalled Brooklyn casino disaster when I can only think about Clodagh.

Images run through my head. The most random, unhelpful shit.

Clodagh in her black dress at Teagan’s birthday. Clodagh in her yoga pants. Clodagh scolding me for being grouchy. Clodagh’s studio covered in wood. Clodagh realizing she’s eating balls of butter. I smile.

“Killian?” JP’s voice booms from the other end of the table, snapping me back to reality. “You know what needs to be done to get this moving. There needs to be some serious groveling on your part.”

Fuck’s sake. He’s right. There’s only one way to fix it. The mayor metaphorically has me by the balls and is squeezing tight.

“Like hell I do,” I sneer. I’ll be damned if I’m going to grovel to that smarmy jackass.

JP’s dark eyes blaze with anger as he exhales. “You’re allowing emotions to interfere with your business decisions. It needs to be fixed.”

Anger flares in my chest, aimed at JP, the mayor, myself. I can’t decide who I’m madder at.

“This has nothing to do with emotions,” I snap. “This is about that idiot disrespecting my staff. In my own house, I might add.”

“Look, just because you’re losing your mind over your nanny in some ridiculous midlife crisis doesn’t mean you can drag the business down with you.”

Well, that confirms it, then. I must be as obvious as those old men who come into my hotel bar with much younger women draped over them.

“This isn’t just about you, Killian,” he continues, sounding tired. “We all have a vested interest in this casino.” He turns to Connor. “Help your brother see reason, will you?”

Our standoff is interrupted by a heavy knock on the door.

Marcus appears at the doorway. “Killian, I need to talk to you. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

Now this is a guy who has been through multiple midlife crises.

I beckon him inside, glad for the distraction from the conversation about failed casinos. “Go ahead. What is it?”

He looks from me to Connor and JP, debating whether to speak in front of them.

“Out with it,” I say impatiently.

“We did a police check on Clodagh. There are two different police forces in Ireland, the Northern Irish police and the Republic of Ireland police.”

“I’m aware of that, Marcus.” I sigh. Where is this going? Is everyone determined to piss me off today in this office? “I don’t need a geography lesson. Get to the point.”

“I screwed up. We marked the vetting process as done once the Irish Republic police force returned their response. The Northern Irish police sent theirs in afterward.” He hands me his laptop, looking like he’s about to wet himself with fear.

“You need to see this.”

For a moment, I fail to understand what he’s talking about until it hits me like a ton of bricks.

“We’ll revoke her visa immediately,” Marcus says quickly. “She never disclosed it at the time. I’m sorry, Killian. I’ll have a replacement ASAP.”

Connor and JP stare at me with wide eyes.

My nostrils flare as I read through the report. “No. I’ll deal with it.”

***

“Clodagh?” I shout, striding through the house. My gaze stops at the doorway of Teagan’s room, where Clodagh is tidying up and bobbing her head in time with her headphones.

I tap her on the back, and she screams and jumps. “You startled me. What are you doing home so early?”

My angry expression wipes the smile off her face.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask her, barely managing to keep my voice even.

She grimaces. “Is this about your underwear? Do they feel tighter now?”

“No, not my damn underwear. Though, yes, you have managed to shrink them. You stole a fucking car?”

Any remaining color drains from her face as she sets down Teagan’s pillow on the bed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” JP is right. My emotions are clouding my business judgment.

She cast us all under her spell. Teagan seems to idolize her now, and if she catches wind of this, it sets a terrible example.

And me?

I’m a fool. I was sucked in by her pretty face and infectious laughter, and I don’t even know the person sharing our house with my daughter.

“Explain,” I demand.

“Okay, okay,” she whimpers, flapping her hands in the air. “Just give me a chance.”

“I’m waiting,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to remain calm.

She swallows hard and nods. “I was living in Belfast at the time. I told you my ex screwed me over. I was so pissed off when I left his place that I saw he’d left his keys in his shiny new car, and, well, I figured I’d take it.” She lets out a little bitter laugh. “Only it wasn’t his car; it was his neighbor’s.”

This is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. “For fuck’s sake.”

I watch as her face crumples and the first of a fat tear rolls down her cheek. “It was supposed to be leverage to get some of my money back. That asshole had all my savings, and I was broke as shit. Unfortunately, the police won’t accept one crime for another.”

I glower at her. “How did you get past immigration? Did you lie on the form?”

She chokes back her tears. “You don’t need to declare smaller offenses.”

“You might be able to get away with that on a vacation visa, but if you have anything criminal on your record, your work visa is as good as gone. We can’t sponsor you anymore.”

The full weight of my words hits her, and the tears flood down her face uncontrollably.

I stand rigidly; torn between wanting to comfort her and the knowledge that she lied to my company and me, and she shouldn’t be in my house.

“I’m really sorry, Killian. I made a mistake,” she sobs, her voice muffled as she wipes her nose on her sleeve. “I didn’t know how else to get my money back.”

I stare at her intently, knowing this is my perfect opportunity to end this fling between us so no one gets their heart broken.

But then those deep green eyes of hers lock on mine, and I hear myself say, “I’ll fix it.” Even though I know fixing this will take a miracle.

This isn’t a guy I can bribe; this is immigration.

And that’s when I realize that I’m much deeper into this than I thought, because the look of relief on her face melts my heart into goo.

Clodagh

I’m falling.

And not because the man has agreed to do something dodgy with my criminal record for me, but because every day I peel back another layer of Killian Quinn, and underneath the grump is actually a protective sweet guy.