Boss Me

Blake
Seth heads into his office after lunch, but Madison isn’t with him. He wanted some time to help ease any aches she may have from all our fucking the past few days. It’s my night to sleep with her. I’ll have to get inventive, because no matter what she says, she needs a break from being fucked.
But we can still do things to relieve the need that seems constant between us. I smirk and listen for her to come up. I’m sure Seth gave her a time limit. Leaving her alone has us all worried, but maybe we’re crowding her too much.
There’s nowhere safer than our apartment. But it seems like every time we leave her alone something happens.
Besides, it’s hard to leave her alone. I’ve never met such a natural submissive as Madison. She gives in so beautifully to our every desire. I need to make sure she’s not just doing it to please us. That she enjoys it as much as she seems to.
A new email comes in from Theo, who’s working at Taylor’s. I wanted Hunter to be her stalker. It would have tied everything up in a nice bow. Maybe he would have gotten some prison time or at least an arrest on his record.
The guy is too damned cocky to creep in the background, though, like her stalker has. No, he had no issues going after her in the middle of the day with witnesses everywhere.
The sad reality is his father will probably not do much about it.
I glance at my open door. Her desk is still empty. How long has it been?
If she’s much longer, I’ll go hunting for her. But right now, I focus on answering Theo’s email. He needs details from some files here, and I dig around on my computer to get him the information.
I should call my friend on the force to see if they’ve made any progress.
Madison screams. My heart stops as I race out of my office. Noah already has Madison curled against his chest. Trembling, she breathes deeply while he murmurs against her hair. Her shoulders shake and her hands clutch his shirt.
He meets my eyes and looks pointedly at Madison’s desk.
Knowing she’s being taken care of, I turn to the large white box and step closer. The whole interior is splotchy red. Inside is the dress she wore to dinner the other night. The night she played with Coop and Noah.
Now, it’s torn almost to shreds, stained with red dye of some sort. And on top of it is photo after photo of her wearing it. Her on campus. Her in line for coffee. At the park. In the library. In class. In her apartment. In her bathroom, putting her hair up.
Fuck.
A slip of white paper on the floor catches my eye. I pick it up.
Shame about your dress, little one. You should take better care of your things. I know it was your favorite. That’s why I bought one years ago to make sure you’d be able to wear it for me. Soon.
The elevator opens, but I’m busy looking through the contents of the box, using a pencil to sift through the remains of her dress. I don’t want to destroy any evidence the police might be able to obtain.
“What’s happening?” Coop asks, his voice urgent as he strides over to us.
“Is this a bad time?” another voice asks. “Maybe I should come back.”
I lift my head and meet Patrick Beck’s brown eyes. Patrick is our attorney. He’s a few years older than us. A family man with a wife and two kids already. His shrewd gaze takes in the scene in front of him.
Coop glances in the box before moving to take Madison from Noah’s arms. He kisses the top of her head and tucks her against him. “No, Patrick, stay. We need to finish the legal on the Haverside project today. Would you mind waiting in the conference room?”
Patrick’s eyes linger with curiosity and interest on Madison in Coop’s arms. But then he nods, his expression blank, and heads into the conference room. Noah follows him and shuts the door behind Patrick.
On the way back to us, Noah opens Seth’s door and gestures to him before returning to Madison, rubbing his hand down her back.
“Where did this come from?” I ask.
“Delivered to the front desk. I picked it up after lunch,” Madison says. Coop’s chest muffles her words.
“I’ll go check.” Noah presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading to the elevator.
I pull a clean tissue from her desk and lift the photos out using it. There must be fifty pictures of her in that dress. Different days, different seasons. All candid. Some from a distance. Some close up. Fuck.