Page 11 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

I stepped forward, watching Zac’s jaw tighten as I came around his desk. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles turning pale. His whole body was coiled, tense, like he was bracing for impact.

It’s happening , I thought. It’s actually happening. I’d fantasized about this moment so many times that, even now, as it was about to happen, I could hardly believe it wasn’t just another one of my private dream scenarios. The ones I played out under the shower or before falling asleep. But no, this time it was real, and Isaac and I were about to cross the line forever. I could feel the weight of his stare, but I didn’t meet it. Not yet. Instead, my gaze flicked lower, to the bulge between his legs, my mind dizzy with desire. I let my knees hit the floor, the plush carpet soft against my trousers, and reached for his belt.

His breath hitched. “Chris—”

“Mmm?” I flicked open the buckle. The metal clinked in the silence.

“This is a bad idea.” His voice was low, strained, like he was trying to hold onto something already slipping through his fingers. But he didn’t stop me. His legs were already spread, his hips pushed forward, his erection straining against his slacks, betraying him.

I dragged the zipper down. “Just relax. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Zac made a strangled noise deep in his throat and turned his head away, tilting it toward the window like he could will himself somewhere else. Like he could pretend this wasn’t happening.

I wasn’t about to let him.

He wasn’t touching me, wasn’t looking at me, wasn’t doing a damn thing except sitting there, stiff as a board. But the second I reached into his briefs and wrapped my hand around him, his whole body shuddered.

“Wow,” I said, running my fingers over his length. “It’s even bigger in person.” It was fucking enormous. Thick as a beer can. Heavy in my hand, hot and throbbing, a bead of precum already slicking the tip as the foreskin rolled down. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I’d imagined this—so many times—but the reality was a thousand times better. I gave him a slow stroke, squeezing just enough to make his hips twitch.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. His head stayed turned, his jaw clenched like he was still trying to fight it, but his body told a different story. His legs tensed, his breathing came faster, and when I twisted my wrist just right, dragging my thumb over the head, a deep, guttural moan slipped past his lips.

That sound shot straight through me, hot and electric. I wanted more. “Does this feel good?”

“Stop talking,” he whispered, eyes closing.

I adjusted my grip, stroking him harder, faster, testing different angles, trying to find exactly what made him fall apart. His hands clenched the armrests so tightly I thought he might break them. His lips parted, his brows drew together, and then—another sound, raw and helpless, spilled from his throat.

He was fucking gorgeous like this—and I wanted to ruin him.

Without thinking, I leaned in. My breath ghosted over the tip of his cock, and before I could second-guess it, my lips parted and I took him into my mouth.

Zac gasped. His entire body jerked like he’d been shocked.

“Oh God —”

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I licked over the tip, tasting him, letting the weight of him press heavy against my tongue. His scent filled my head, clean sweat and something dark, masculine, addictive. I hollowed my cheeks and took more, sliding my lips down, feeling his cock slip deeper into my throat, his girth throbbing inside my neck.

His hand shot to my head. He didn’t push me away, didn’t try to stop me—just tangled his fingers in my hair and groaned, his hips lifting off the chair like he couldn’t help himself. He was close. So close.

I sucked harder, faster, my hand working in tandem, stroking the base while my tongue flicked over the sensitive underside, alternating between deepthroating him and sucking the head. His thighs trembled. His breath came in ragged gasps. His grip in my hair tightened—tight enough to hurt, but I loved it, and I moaned around the thickness in my mouth to let him know it.

“Aaaahh fuck —” And then he was cumming, pulsing hot and thick into my mouth, his head falling back, his entire body seizing as he let out a deep, broken moan. I kept sucking, swallowing, savoring the salty taste of him. And I took it all, every drop, until he finally slumped back in his chair, boneless, wrecked, his chest heaving.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Isaac scrubbed a hand over his face and tucked himself in, still not looking at me. “Jesus Christ.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sat back on my heels, watching him. He was trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, like he hadn’t just come down my throat, but I knew better. He’d loved it. He wouldn’t admit it, but I’d felt it in the way he lost control, in the sounds he made, in the way his body had responded to me and only me. I grinned, standing up and straightening my clothes. “Feeling better now?”

Isaac let out a heavy breath and turned back to his computer. “Yes. I, uh… Thank you.”

“Anytime, boss.” I said it casually, not as a statement or a promise, but as I left his office, I caught the look he gave me. Like he took it literally. And he was going to call me out on it.

I knew it. He knew it. It was only a matter of time before it happened again.

* * *

Well, I didn’t expect it to happen again the very next day. But when Isaac called me into his office, I knew exactly what he wanted.

To his credit, he’d kept his end of the bargain—after yesterday’s blowjob, he was back to his usual self. Focused, efficient, fair. No more barking at employees, no more taking out his stress on anyone else. He’d even apologized to Alicia. But we both knew it wouldn’t last. He was one orgasm away from turning into a boss from hell again, and apparently, it was my job to keep the demon from reappearing.

Yeah. Like I needed an excuse to suck his cock.

This time, there was no hesitation. No weak protests. As soon as I stepped into his office, he locked the door, went to his desk, and leaned back against it, hands braced on the edge like he was presenting himself to me. I barely had time to smirk before I dropped to my knees.

From that moment on, it became routine. At least once a day—often more. In his office, between the meetings, with the door locked. In the gym sauna, when there was no one else around, and the heat made our bodies slick with sweat. In the showers, where the steam thickened the air, and his groans echoed off the tiles as he buried his hands in my hair, fucking my mouth with a desperation that only grew stronger each time.

Zac was insatiable. And I was more than happy to provide my services.

“Your cum tastes so fucking good,” I said one time as I cleaned him up.

He only grunted, non-committal, but I knew he loved the ego-stroking almost as much as the sucking. Millionaire CEO or not, Zac wanted to feel wanted, just like everybody else.

Some days, he hardly even spoke before unzipping his pants and taking his cock out as I settled between his legs. Other times, he tried to act normal—talking about work, going over reports—until I caught the way his fingers flexed, the way his voice tightened, and I’d give him a knowing look before rubbing his bulge and sinking to my knees. He never stopped me. Not once.

And the more I did it, the more I craved it. The taste of him, the weight of his cock on my tongue, the way he lost control when I took him deep and pushed him over the edge.

I told myself it was just fun. No strings. No complications. But deep down, I knew the truth—I was completely hooked.