Never Bargain with the Boss (Never Say Never Book 5)
Never Bargain with the Boss: Chapter 21

I’m on a cloud. A soft, fluffy, but supportive cloud. Floating high above Earth, I’m cozy and warm, and I can hear a distant thud-thud-thud in my right ear.

Wait… clouds don’t have heartbeats. That’s what that sound is, right?

I wake up slowly, my eyes still shut tight as reality comes back to me. It’s not a cloud, it’s a bed with expensive sheets and a thick duvet, and a hard body pressed against me.

“Good morning,” Cameron rumbles from right beside me.

I crack open one eye, just the tiniest sliver to peek at him. I want to get a gauge on how he’s feeling this morning before I respond. Is he panicking? Is he still on a post-orgasmic high? Does he already regret this? Does he want to go again? Have I already overstayed my welcome… in his bed, in his life? The options are nearly endless.

His left bright blue eye peers back at me, the other hidden by a fold in the pillow, wide awake and filled with a happy glint. Relief washes through me, but at the same time, I realize something else.

“Were you watching me sleep?” I rub at the corner of my mouth, certain I’m probably drooling like a Great Dane, and then at my eyes, figuring there are crusties forming as I speak. “Creeper.” There’s no heat to it, and he chuckles as he pulls me in tighter, not letting me leave the embrace of his arms. His five o’clock shadow is prickly in a delightfully rough way against my forehead as he presses a kiss there.

“Yes, and perhaps,” he concedes with a careless shrug of his one free shoulder. “I woke up and thought you were a dream, but your snoring made it abundantly clear that you were real this time.”

I swat at his bare chest. “I do not snore!”

He grins. Not agreeing or disagreeing, he continues, “I wanted to enjoy the moment with you snuggled in my arms. Someone once told me that it’s important to do that.”

I press my lips together, fighting to hide my smile. “She sounds brilliant.”

“She? I didn’t say ‘she’, did I?”

But we both know he means me. I like this playful version of Cameron. He’s relaxed and comfortable, and… very naked beneath the covers, unless there’s also a lead pipe in bed with us.

“Well, if we’re going to take this nameless, genderless, possibly imaginary person’s advice to heart, how should we enjoy this moment?”

Last night was amazing. Better than amazing. It was more than I ever imagined it would be, and I want to prolong it as much as I can before reality slams down over Cameron’s mind. It’s going to. He can’t help how he is, and at some point today, Grace is going to call him to come get her, he’ll click back into Dad Mode, and we’ll return to some version of normalcy.

So I’m going to do what I do best… maximize every single tick of the clock while I have this version of Cameron. The one who works my body in ways I’ve never known were possible. The one who growls filthy things into my ear. The one who not only spanked me, but also took care of me in the shower, washing me with gentle, sure hands as he slid soapy bubbles and a washcloth over my body and between my legs. The one whose fingers are already dancing down my arm to move it out of his way so he can cup my breast.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he murmurs before his mouth takes mine. I kiss him back, thrilled with the prospect of not only sleeping in his bed, but fucking in it too. It feels naughty in a way, like I don’t really belong here and am stealing these moments with him.

His thumb teases over the nub of my nipple, urging it to harden for him, and I arch into his touch for more. I feel his answering smile against my lips. He likes it when I tell him what feels good, what I want, what I need, so in between kisses, I plead, “More.”

He rolls onto his back, bringing me with him, and I settle over him, my legs straddling one of his so that my pussy is lying on his thigh and his hard cock is trapped between us. I grind myself against the soft hairs on his leg, delighting in the roughness against my most sensitive of spots, and his hands work down my back to my ass, where he grips the globes tightly, urging me on. “Use me, take what you want, Riley.”

I do, rubbing myself until I’m dangerously close to coming. It’s so easy with his eyes locked onto me, the heat of his pre-cum on my skin, and his breaths coming in jagged pants. Right on the edge, I stop, clenching my pussy tight to stave off the impending explosion. “Not yet,” I whisper. “There’s something else I want to use. Want to take.”

His brows furrow, then fly up his forehead as I start to move down his body. I leave a trail of kisses on his sharp jaw, press my lips over the tripping pulse in his neck, and lick a circle over his nipple. I shift entirely, scooting down the bed and making a place for myself between his thighs. His hand cups my jaw, and I tilt into his touch as his thumb swipes over my bottom lip. “This mouth makes me crazy,” he groans. “The things you say, the things you don’t say.”

“Wait till you see what I can do with it. That’ll really drive you crazy,” I promise.

I’m not some Blowjob Queen who gives Gluck-Gluck 9000s on the regular. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve had a dick in my mouth, but what I lack in recent experience, I will definitely make up for with enthusiasm, because I want Cameron in my mouth. I want to have that power over him, the always-in-control man who lives by a schedule, and turn his brain into mush with the only thought being ‘yes, yes, yes’ at my command.

I circle my tongue around his flared head, lapping at the already spilling clear fluid gathered at his tip. “Mmm,” I moan. With my mouth open and tongue sticking out, I lick up his length, coating him with my saliva. I do it again and again, my eyes on his, watching his need to fuck my mouth build inside him. But he’s doing such a good job holding himself back, that strong restraint of his fully engaged as he lets me tease him mercilessly.

Only when I feel his hand clench in my hair do I finally relent and seal my lips over his head. “Fuck,” he grunts, his hips thrusting up unconsciously and forcing another two inches into my mouth before he regains control.

I don’t want to lose the vacuum suction I’ve got on him, so I can’t smile, but I reward him by taking him deeper into my mouth, letting his tip tease at my throat. I hold him there, my nose pressed against the soft hairs at his base. “You look fucking stunning like this,” he whispers reverently.

I feel stunning.

I slide back up his cock and then swallow him again, finding a slow, leisurely pace at first but gradually building to a faster tempo as I wrap my hands around him too. Using my mouth, tongue, and hands, I torture Cameron with pleasure until he’s thrashing on the bed, losing the fight against his instincts to fuck my mouth.

It’s just as glorious as I thought it would be—to have this command over him, to be the reason he loses all sense of control—and as I feel his balls pull up against the base of my hand, I know I’m about to be rewarded even more. I hold him deep in my mouth, giving him shallow thrusts against my throat and swallowing reflexively around his tip.

“You want it?” he demands, the words spit out harshly.

I want everything. With him. But I can’t speak, so I whimper around his cock, begging for his cum, needing at least that, with every fiber of my being. He grips my head in his hands, his fingers tangled in my hair, as he pumps even deeper into my throat. I gag around him, but when he grunts warningly, I steady myself and swallow again.

Finally, with a ragged groan, he explodes, shooting his hot and salty cum down my throat. I hungrily take it all, not losing a single drop. When he’s spent, I even lick up and down his length and swipe at the corners of my lips, slipping my thumb into my mouth to make sure I get it all.

“Jesus, Riley,” Cameron pants. His chest is rising and falling so fast that even his abs are contracting with every breath. But his eyes are mine, all mine as he looks down his body at me, still between his legs. “Come here,” he orders. His hands, which are still around my head, pull me up, guiding my mouth to his.

He has no compunction about kissing me with the taste of his cum still on my tongue. In fact, I think he likes it because he shoves his tongue immediately into my mouth, kissing me passionately.

I think that’s it, figuring he’ll need some recovery time after coming so well, but after a few seconds of kissing, he keeps pushing me higher. Confused, I pull away with a questioning look. “Sit on my face. I want to see how wet you are after sucking me like that.”

I already know the answer to that. Very wet. Like I can feel the slickness on my inner thighs. And when I position myself over Cameron, my knees folded beneath me as I straddle his face like a queen, there are clear strings of arousal coating me. His grin is pure evil as he slowly… so slowly… runs his palms up my inner thighs to draw teasing circles in the slickness.

“All this from giving me pleasure?” It’s a rhetorical question that he definitely already knows the answer to. Still, I nod even though his eyes are fixated on my center.

“Cameron.”

When I say his name, his gaze slowly lifts to mine, heat burning in those blue eyes as he licks a languid line from my entrance up to my clit. “Yes?” he murmurs, a cocky smirk lifting one side of his lips before he goes back for another taste.

I whimper, not sure what to say. I want him to lick me, to relieve this throbbing ache in my clit the way I know he can. And though he is licking my pussy, it’s not enough. He’s torturing me now, the same way I did to him. I might be the one on top, nearly pinning him to the bed, but he’s in control now and I’m at his mercy, begging for more.

“Hold on to the headboard,” he says. It’s all the warning I get before he buries his mouth fully in the folds of my core, devouring me ravenously. I worry I’m going to suffocate him, but he lays his arms heavily over my thighs, holding me down, keeping me tight as he consumes me, feasting with wet-sounding smacks like I’m the most delicious delicacy he’s ever had.

It feels so good, but my pussy is clenching, painfully aware of its empty hollowness and desperately wanting Cameron’s cock. I try to reach behind me to see if he’s hard again, praying he is, but he growls against me and the rough vibration has me collapsing against the headboard. “Oh, fuck,” I cry out, the orgasm taking me by surprise.

My hips buck wildly, but Cameron never loses his hold on me. I can feel the roughness of his scruff marking my thighs, his fingers denting the flesh of my thighs, and the soft heat of his tongue on my clit as I shatter apart and then bang back together, time after time, coming in waves.

Suddenly, I’m flying. Well, it feels like I am, but it’s Cameron rolling us over. Beneath him on the bed now, he slams into my still pulsing pussy, and the orgasm that was trying to subside sweeps me under again.

I’m shivering, my muscles clenching uncontrollably, all bodily control gone. No, not gone. It’s Cameron’s. My body is his to do with as he wants.

Apparently, what he wants is to fuck me to death because I think I might die from orgasms. Later, I’ll laugh at that, but right now, I don’t have enough oxygen to laugh. All I can do is moan senselessly.

Cameron interlocks our fingers, pressing my hands to the bed above my head, and distantly, I hear him calling my name. “Riley. Look at me, baby.”

My eyes spin, my head nothing more than a roar, but I fight through it to find him, looking for the brightness of his blue eyes as a touchpoint of reality. I blink, and when he sees my vision clear enough to focus, he smiles. “There you are. Stay with me. We’re going together this time.”

Again? He wants me to come again. I can’t. I shake my head, my eyes rolling back. And being the asshole he is, Cameron chuckles. Apparently, he has enough oxygen for silly things like that.

“Yes, you can. I’m gonna make you come again so this pussy will suck me dry.” His tone brooks no argument. He’s in full boss mode and I love it. “I’ve been waiting for this for years… so much built up just for you… I need this release, Riley. I need to come, need to fill you up again.” I cry out, both from his words and the way he’s plunging into me deep and hard like he’s teaching my pussy who it belongs to. “You want it?”

I know what he’s doing. If this were only about me, I’d stop. I’m boneless from the pleasure he’s already wrought on my body, and have come more and harder in the last twelve hours than in the previous year. But if it’s about him? I’ll go again to give him pleasure, to give him the release he needs. I’ll take care of him that way, especially knowing that he’s going to take care of me at the same time.

“Give it to me,” I demand.

He brushes his lips over my ear and whispers, “Good girl.”

And oh, shit, I’m done for. Those two little words light a fire in me I didn’t know existed, and I try my best to fuck Cameron from below, but he doesn’t let me. His weight pins my body and his hands hold mine, and I’m forced to be at his mercy. His blessed, bliss-bringing mercy once again.

“I’m there,” I gasp. Pleading, I breathe, “Come with me.”

His face buried against my neck, probably breathing in my hair more than air, he drives into me jackhammer-fast. He’s plunging so deep that I think I can feel him in my chest… or maybe that’s my breath trapped in my lungs. And then Cameron’s heat paints my insides and he grunts jaggedly. His orgasm triggers mine, and together, we fall into the abyss.

When I come back to awareness, Cameron is draped over me so heavily that I’d think perhaps I killed him except I can feel his racing heart against my chest. “You okay?” I venture.

I’m not only asking about his physical state. We’ve been at this for a while, and though I’m not ready for it to happen yet, his phone is going to ding with a text from Grace soon, dulling the shine of the moment and replacing it with things like coordinating pickups and deciding on dinner.

“What’s better than awesome?” Cameron muses, his voice echoing against the mattress beside my head.

“Me?” I suggest.

He laughs lightly and then rolls off me, ending up on his side next to me. “I’ll definitely agree with that.” His fingertip draws a line over the skin of my belly, up between my breasts, and then he loops one of my longer necklaces around his finger, mindlessly playing with the chain. “The most awesomest of awesome.”

“Did you just make up a word?” I gasp, feigning shock and awe. “You’re totally the type who’s read the dictionary, and that word is definitely not in there.”

“Well, it should be,” he declares. “Come on. Let’s hop in the shower… again.”

It ends up being after twelve o’clock before Grace texts. Late enough that Cameron and I shower, clean the kitchen from last night’s fun, and make and eat brunch while shooting each other sexy-eyed smirks.

“Are you going with me to get Grace?” Cameron asks.

I want to. Desperately.

Because I want this fantasy to continue. But when he picks up Grace, it won’t. I know that. I even understand it. We’ve had one night, and no matter how fabulous it was, we can’t spring something like this on Grace until we know what it is. If it’s even anything.

Cameron has said a lot of things that make me feel hopeful, but things said while dick-deep and on the verge of coming are categorically not to be used against someone once the moment’s passed. I think that’s actually in some rule book somewhere.

“No, you go get her, and I’ll get groceries. We can meet back here later.”

It’s a completely logical plan, even coming from the most illogical person ever. But Cameron doesn’t seem certain, his brows dropping over doubt-filled eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I tell him breezily, going so far as to pat his chest and press a kiss to his now-smooth cheek. “Divide and conquer. I’m thinking chicken and dumplings for dinner tonight.”

“Sounds delicious.” Every word is right, but I think we both feel the hesitancy in them as space grows between us.

It’s a weird situation. We had sex, but we also live together and are completely entwined in each other’s lives. There’s no awkward walk of shame—not that I’m ashamed of anything we did—but we also can’t immediately jump to ‘living together’ and skip a bajillion steps along the way. Especially the one where we figure out what this means before Grace learns about it. That’s the most important step of all.

“Okay,” Cameron says, grabbing his keys.

A few minutes later, I do the same, slipping my coat on and heading to the grocery store. I feel a bit adrift, though there’s no reason to. It was a great night, and Cameron gave me no sign that he has any regrets… yet. For now, it’s business as usual.

Business. Because he’s still my boss.

I try to remind myself that he flat-out said he doesn’t want a bang nanny, and I believed him, so shocked at his use of the term that I’d stared slack-jawed at him and saw his distaste for the very idea of it. That’s not what this is. At all.

It’s two people who feel something, taking their time to define what that might be and not rushing into something willy-nilly when kids are involved. It’s… mature. That sort of feels new, and good.

I’ve got one earbud in as I make my way up and down the aisles, putting various things in my cart. My chicken and dumpling recipe is a tried-and-true classic I can do with my hands tied behind my back, though I’d rather not try it.

Actually, that could be fun. Maybe we can do some sort of chef game that way tonight. I bet Grace would get a kick out of that.

And maybe later, Cameron and I could use the ties for other things. Or hell, still for tying hands… that’d be fun too, especially when there’s no cooking happening.

I’m so distracted by the idea that I almost run into someone at the end of the soup aisle. “Sorry,” I say quickly, looking up to meet the eyes of the one person I wish I never had to see again. “Austin?”

Shit. Fuck. And damn. What is he doing here?

I glance around like there might be someone to help me or some logical reason for him to be standing in the grocery store five minutes from Cameron’s and over four hours away from his house with Beth. With no cart, not a single item in his hands, and his eyes dropping over me in a completely non-fatherly sort of way.

I’m dressed warmly for the November weather outside in shredded black jeans with striped tights beneath them, a long-sleeved shirt, a flannel, and a vest, plus my boots and jewelry. Somehow, I still feel naked.

I’d almost forgotten how uncomfortable he makes me feel, especially since it’s been months since I’ve seen him. I’d naively hoped that this would far enough away that he wouldn’t show up at places I go the way he had when I’d been closer. It seems I was wrong.

“Hey, Rye. Fancy seeing you here. You’re looking good.”

Swallowing down my unease, I snap, “What are you doing here?” I make sure the cart is between me and him, even though I don’t think he’s going to actually try anything in the middle of the store.

He’s never laid a hand on me in any sort of way, but he still sets off every self-preservation alarm I have, and they’re finely tuned enough that I trust them implicitly despite Austin never going too far.

It’s not because I don’t think he would. He’s just good enough at manipulating people—me included—that he hasn’t had to push things into the realm of actual threats and bodily injury. Yet.

“Grabbing a few things for the kids, you know. They need…” He looks at the hanging rack next to him and picks up the advertised item there. “Pop Tarts. The cookies n’ cream ones are Brayden’s favorite.”

I don’t know who Brayden is. He must be one of the current foster kids, but I have no doubt that Austin has never once fed him a name-brand breakfast pastry, especially one closer to dessert than a breakfast food.

“There you go, then. Good-bye.” I keep my voice clipped and no-nonsense. And though I hate to do it, I push my cart past Austin and turn the corner. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away, forcing myself not to run the way I instinctively want to.

Prey runs. And I’m not prey. Certainly not Austin’s.

I look over my shoulders the whole time I’m checking out, speed walking to my car and throwing my groceries in the backseat. I don’t even put my cart away, which is the pinnacle of rudeness as far as I’m concerned. Driving home, I glance in my rearview mirror a thousand times, and though I don’t see anything suspicious, my heart races the whole time. I don’t think I breathe until I’m back home, with the garage door closed behind me. Finally, I relax. But only a little.

I hate Austin so much, hate this reaction he pulls up inside me. I consider calling Cole to see if he’s checked on the foster kids lately or ask if he knows why Austin is in this area, but I sigh. Austin didn’t really do or say anything. He didn’t even ask me for money this time. Just said hello.

It wasn’t only hello. I’m not so stupid that I believe that. He was telling me that he knows where I am… that he can still reach me… that he still has some hold over me.

But I’ve handled this on my own many times before. I don’t need to go running to Cole for help over nothing. I just need to go back to being alert, watching for Austin at the places I go and being aware of my surroundings.

Like not shopping with an earbud in.

It pisses me off that it’s come to this again. But I can manage. I always have.

Deep inside my mind, a tiny voice whispers… the clock’s ticking.

It is. Every other time Austin has found me, I’ve changed my routines, where I shop, where I get coffee, the routes I take, and ultimately… the job I was working. But I don’t want to leave this job. Not this time.

It’s different. Grace and Cameron are different, and I’m different with them. I swipe at my eyes, sniffling the tears away. I refuse to let Austin fuck this up for me. Not when I feel like I might’ve finally found a chance at a family, at a home, at a future.

A future.

The word echoes in my mind, sounding so unfamiliar. But no, that’s not it. I know the word. I’ve just never thought it applied to me. I really want it to, though, and I’m willing to fight to have one… a future with Cameron and Grace and the Harringtons.