By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

The music was on, the lights were low, and the kids and Brownie divided their time being glued to the living room TV upstairs watching one of the movies Delaney thoughtfully brought and racing downstairs to sneak snacks.

The adults claimed the kitchen and dining room as our territory. Plates of food were passed, drinks poured, and a dozen conversations were happening at the same time.

The smile on Dom’s face while he chatted with Mrs. Grosu and Harry made every hour of sneaky subterfuge absolutely worth it.

“Miracle of miracles,” Dalessandra said, sidling up to me in the kitchen. “You managed to surprise Dominic, and he looks like he might actually be enjoying himself.”

I liked seeing Dalessandra slip out of her role of indomitable boss.

“I couldn’t have done it without you and your last-minute, urgent conference call,” I reminded her.

“Introduce me to your miracle worker,” Simone insisted, slipping in next to Dalessandra. She was lovely. Born to a Chinese father and Nigerian mother nearly seventy years ago, Simone either had incredible genes or a very good doctor on stand-by. Her glossy ebony hair hung in a curtain that just brushed her shoulders. A model since sixteen, she managed to make the simple white silk blouse and slim black pants look effortlessly chic.

I was the teensiest bit starstruck.

“Simone, meet Ally. Ally, meet Simone, my oldest, dearest friend.”

“Thank you for coming, Simone.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. I’ve known Dominic since he was a little boy, and I’m very fond of him,” she said, eyeing me over the rim of the pink fizzy cocktail Faith had mixed up.

“I am, too,” I admitted, locking eyes with the man across the room where he was pouring a whiskey and smirking at something Elton was saying.

“Ladies.” Christian joined our little circle. Simone gave him the same appreciative once-over that all women did.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed across the room, and I sent him a little wink.

“Christian, I’m so glad you could come tonight,” I said. “Have you met my friend Faith yet?”

Dalessandra and Simone shared a sly look.

“I have not,” Christian said.

“She’s the stunning, Gwen Stefani-esque woman currently telling children that Santa Claus isn’t real,” I said, leading the way to my friend, who was telling Linus’s kids a story that had them transfixed.

“Excuse me, guys. Mind if I borrow this lady for a minute?”

“Aww,” they pouted.

“Here’s five bucks each,” Faith said, opening her wallet.

“Yay!” The kids forgot all about Faith and dashed off with their earnings.

“Faith, this is Christian. Christian, this is Faith. You two have a lot in common. You both spend a lot of time around mostly naked, beautiful people for a living.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “Model?”

“Strip club owner. Plastic surgeon?” she shot back.

“Designer.”

“Faith has no intentions of settling down and no tolerance for sweeping judgments on her lifestyle. Christian here has zero time to devote to an actual relationship because he’s in love with his business. I thought you two should meet.”

“Tell me more about strip club owning,” Christian insisted, leading Faith in the direction of the bar by the elbow.

Mission accomplished. If those two beautiful people didn’t decide to take their bodies on a strings-free test drive, then there was something very wrong with the world.

“When can we kick everyone out?” The gruff voice was accompanied by a nibble at the spot where my neck met my shoulder.

I turned and looped my arms around Dominic’s neck. His tie was loosened. He’d ditched his shoes at some point, and he had a cinnamon butterscotch cookie in his hand.

“It’s your birthday, Charming,” I said saucily. “We can fake food poisoning at any time.”

The music changed to a Frank Sinatra favorite, and I felt us begin to sway to the beat.

“Am I still in trouble?” I asked.

There was an eruption of laughter behind us as Mr. Mohammad finally reached a punchline. Brownie ran past us with a kid’s sock in his mouth. Several someones drank a toast to someone named Dave behind us. The back door opened, bringing just a hint of sweet cigar smoke into the room.

“Of course. Just because this is a moderately not horrible experience doesn’t mean you’ve escaped punishment,” Dominic said, running the tip of his nose around the shell of my ear.

A delighted shiver worked its way up my spine. “I really like you, Dom. A lot.” Smitten and dizzy. That’s exactly how I felt.

His eyes, those denim blue eyes, roamed my face intently.

“I just thought you should know,” I said, starting to feel embarrassed.

He gathered me tighter to him and danced me in a little circle. “I really like you too, Ally.” His voice was rough and raspy. And I thought I detected just the slightest hint of emotion in it.

With the snick of the lock on the front door behind our last guest, my charming, civilized Dominic turned into an animal. He shoved me against the wall. “I wanted to do this all night,” he growled into my hair as he ground his erection against my ass.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Do you know how many pieces of furniture I’ve bent you over, how many walls I’ve fucked you against in my fantasies?”

“Tell me.”

But he was too busy biting and nipping his way down the back of my neck.

One hand roughly shoved its way into the top of my dress and palmed my breast.

Pushing away from the wall, I turned in his arms and spun us so his back was against the wall.

“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly as I unbuckled his belt.

“Just re-enacting a little fantasy of my own,” I whispered. I let my teeth graze his jaw and then pushed back, slowly sinking to my knees.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

“Take out your dick, Dom, and tell me what you want me to do.”

If his jaw got any tighter, enamel would shatter, bone would crack. Oh, how I loved pushing the birthday boy’s buttons.

“Ally.” There was a warning in the way he said my name. I decided to ignore the warning.

I waited where I was on my knees. The neckline of my dress clinging precariously to my breasts. My hair a mess from his hands. I knew exactly what kind of picture I was painting for him.

“Come here,” he said gruffly.

I crawled to him, savoring the flare of his nostrils, the white-knuckled grip he kept on his control. The sound of his zipper was like music to my ears.

I stopped in front of him and watched as he fisted his shaft at the root. I licked my lips.

“Taste it,” he ordered.

Dutifully, I took that hot, velvety crown into my mouth and ran my tongue in a circle.

He hissed out a breath and shoved a hand into my hair.

“You make such a beautiful fucking picture right now, Ally.”

As a reward, I took a little more of him into my mouth.

His head hit the wall behind him. I hoped not hard enough for a concussion. I hummed my pleasure against his flesh.

I could taste him. Could feel the pulse of blood beneath his skin with my tongue. He fed another inch into my mouth and held my head still with his hand in my hair.

The guttural growl that rose up from his chest had me squeezing my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was building there. This wasn’t my life, I decided. Any minute now, I was going to wake up in a ditch somewhere after having been hit by a bus and not know how powerful it felt to have Dominic Russo’s cock in my mouth.

But until then, I was going to savor every damn second of this.

I slid my mouth over him as far down as I could go without choking. My lips brushed his fingers.

“Ally,” he rasped again. I reveled in hearing my name. If it had been hot hearing him hiss out my name while pleasuring himself in secret, this was a five-alarm inferno, and I was getting burned.

I rocked forward and back, laving his shaft, the blunt crown, that sensitive slit with my tongue. He was gritting out dirty promises and praise while I sucked his cock. The fabric of my dress was teasing my nipples, making them beg for more.

The noises we both made were inhuman, and if Brownie hadn’t been passed out upside down on the couch, he would have been growling at the door to the foyer.

I wanted him inside me. I wanted to pull his hair and bite his neck. I wanted to come. But more than all of that combined, I wanted to taste him.

“You need to slow down,” he warned, his voice unsteady as I rocked faster, sucked harder.

But I wasn’t slowing down, and I sure as hell wasn’t stopping.

I felt the tremor that started in his legs as I took him deeper into my mouth. His hands slapped against the wall, and I grabbed the base of his shaft, moving fingers and mouth together in long, wet strokes.

“Baby, you’re going to make me—”

He didn’t get the rest of the words out because he was coming. Loudly, exuberantly pouring what felt like an entire fucking protein shake directly down my throat. Oh my God. I was drowning. And he just. Kept. Coming.

He was sliding down the wall, still coming. I was still valiantly trying not to die as my eyes watered and my mouth overflowed.

We ended up in a tangle on the floor. The tile cooling heated skin. Muscles still shaking. Dominic stroked a hand over my hip.

“I think I pulled a hamstring,” he whispered.

“I think you impregnated my lungs.”

“This is my best birthday ever,” he said, his chest still heaving.

“Birthday blow job for the win,” I said, sucking in a breath of jizz-free air.

“I’m going to need ten minutes, some ibuprofen, a glass of water, and then I’m going to return the favor,” he promised.