Page 18 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

The day passed in an effortless haze, the kind of easy rhythm I hadn’t felt in years. Hours melted away between bites of chicken piccata and the low hum of conversation, Chris sitting in his chair with one leg up, one arm resting on his knee, his skin milky in the pale afternoon light. He was unguarded like this, loose-limbed and drowsy with contentment, spinning stories with his hands, teasing me about my taste in movies, rolling his eyes when I scoffed at his pick for the evening: The Mummy .

“You don’t understand,” he said, dropping onto the couch beside me as the movie flared across the big screen, the glow catching in his eyes. “Rick O’Connell was my sexual awakening. Young Brendan Fraser was so hot.”

I smirked. “You have a thing for tall, rugged adventurers?”

He nudged my thigh with his knee, but his grin gave him away.

I pulled him close and let myself enjoy it. The warmth of him beside me, the scent of his skin, the way our laughter filled the room like something solid, something I could reach out and touch. For once, I wasn’t thinking about work, or obligations, or the endless cycle of responsibility that usually dictated my every move. For once, I let myself just be. And before I knew it, night had fallen.

When the movie was over, we were cuddled together on the couch in the near-dark, reality slowly reasserting itself.

“I should get home,” Chris said, stretching, skin rubbing against mine.

I didn’t want him to go.

“You could stay,” I offered. “We’ll go to work together in the morning.”

Chris smiled but rose from the couch. “I need to change. All my stuff’s at my place.”

I let out a deep breath, hauling myself into a sitting position. “Fine. I’ll drive you.”

The look on his face was gentle, but he couldn’t resist arguing. “You do realize I’ve survived on my own for years , right?”

“Don’t care,” I said as I stood up, and slapped his ass. “Get ready.”

He went to the guest room in search of his clothes, and I padded to my bedroom to find something I could wear. The November nights were getting cold, but I didn’t need many layers for the simple drive from my place to his. So I ditched my shorts and pulled on a pair of track pants and a zip-up hoodie. As I was slipping on my running sneakers, Chris showed up in his clothes from last night, wrinkled but wearable.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Together, we left my penthouse, rode the elevator down, and stepped into the crisp night air.

The drive unspooled in silence—not empty, but weighty, dense with things neither of us said. It sat warm in my chest, thick as honey, an unspoken connection stretching between us like a taut wire. Streetlights flared and faded in streaks of amber, the city slipping past, but my focus was on him. The way his fingers flexed on his knee as he glanced at me. The way his lips parted, like he was on the verge of speaking but thought better of it. The gear shift separated us, but some unseen force held us together, magnetic and inevitable.

When I pulled up in front of his building, he moved to open the door, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m coming up with you.”

Chris frowned. “Zac—”

“They had your wallet,” I cut in. “Your driver’s license and ID. They could know where you live. I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re safe inside.”

He exhaled, shaking his head, but this time he didn’t argue.

We climbed the stairs side by side, my hand on the back of his neck, footsteps echoing in the dimly lit hall. At his door, he hesitated, fingers curling around the key, but not turning it. The air between us thickened, the silence pressing in close.

I didn’t want to leave.

I wasn’t sure when the shift had happened—maybe somewhere between the careless sprawl of his body over mine and the way he moaned around a mouthful of chicken—but today had felt perfect. Real. And I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. The need to protect him burned like a wildfire within me, all-consuming and uncontrollable. And beneath it… something deeper. A desire as powerful and electric as a thunderstorm rolling in.

Chris finally opened the door of his apartment and turned to me, eyes searching, something unreadable in the set of his mouth. “Well, as you can see, I’m safe.”

I only grunted, peering into the darkness inside, then back at him. My jaw was working. My fingers twitched at my sides. We stood in the doorway, neither of us moving.

He smiled and said, “Goodnight, Zac,” then closed the space between us, pulling me into a hug.

It should have been goodbye. Instead, I caught his face between my hands and crushed my mouth to his.

He gasped—a soft, startled sound—before he melted into me, his breath hitching as my fingers twisted into his hair. He was warm, pliant, but when I licked into his mouth, he met me with heat. Teeth scraping, hands pulling, bodies pressing like we were trying to fuse into one. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t hesitant. It was raw, desperate, every unsaid word devoured between us, every pent-up desire spilling into the frantic slide of lips and tongues. Our very first kiss, and already it felt like it could undo me.

I groaned, deep in my chest, and then we were stumbling inside, the door slamming shut behind us, hands groping, clothing tugged loose, mouths never breaking apart. He pressed me against the wall, his erection straining through his jeans, and then I spun him, trapping him between my body and the cool plaster, my thigh pushing between his legs from behind, his ass rubbing against my hard-on.

“Zac,” he gasped, his head falling back as I licked down his throat. “God.”

I bit his ear and he shuddered, clawing at my back, pressing me into him, pushing his butt into my groin. Wanting his lips again, I spun him to face me, yanking his hoodie and his T-shirt over his head in a single motion. The moment they were gone, I surged forward, locking my lips with his in deep, wet, sloppy kisses that made my blood boil with lust. He tugged at the zipper of my hoodie, dragging it down to uncover my chest. As soon as he unzipped it, he dove for my nipple, flicking his tongue over it before he took it into his mouth and started sucking on it.

Fuck ! No one had ever done it to me like that, and my head fell back as I shrugged the hoodie off. Chris grazed his teeth over my nipple, dragging me to his bedroom, our feet tangling as we crashed onto the mattress in a jumble of limbs. I rolled on top of him, his body hard and soft beneath mine, heat pouring off his skin. He arched up, hips grinding into me, and I swore, breath shuddering, as I reached between us, fingers popping the button on his jeans.

Chris was already pushing at my pants, tugging them down just enough to free me. His palm wrapped around my cock in a slow, torturous stroke.

“This okay?” he murmured, breathless.

I pumped into his fist, my heart hammering. “Yeah,” I rasped, meeting his gaze. “But I want more.”

His pupils blew wide. “What—what are you saying?” he whispered.

“I want to fuck you.”

Without a word, he reached for the nightstand, fumbling for a condom and lube, finding them by touch alone.

I took both from him while he shed the rest of his clothes, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he sat back on his elbows, watching as I stood at the edge of the bed and stripped the rest of the way, the air between us thick with heat, with want. The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, illuminating every inch of him—the flush spreading down his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breath, the way his cock twitched against his stomach, already leaking.

My cock throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat as I took him in, precum hanging in a thin, glistening strand. His breath hitched as I slicked my fingers, as I pressed them between his thighs, below his balls, and against his hole. The moment I pushed inside, he went still, lips parting, a sharp inhale. Then his head fell back, and he moaned.

I watched everything. The way his face shifted, the way his body responded, the slow unraveling of tension as I worked him open, stretching him, preparing him. He was tight, his hole clasping around my fingers, so I took it slow, easing two in before adding another. By the time he was writhing, panting my name, I was barely holding myself together.

I rolled the condom on, slicked myself up, and settled between his thighs, my cock nudging at his entrance. His legs locked around me, hands gripping my arms, eyes heavy-lidded but clear, waiting.

And then I pushed in.

Tight, hot, perfect .

His lips parted in a silent gasp, his body arching beneath me, and I drank it all in. The tight heat swallowing me, the way his fingers dug into my triceps, the soft flutter of his lashes as he blinked up at me, his gaze wide and glazed with pleasure. I rocked forward, filling him inch by inch, until I was buried balls-deep, until there was nothing between us.

“Look at you,” I murmured, my voice thick.

Chris’s lips curved into a breathless smile. “I love how your cock feels inside me. So thick. So full. Give me more.”

I pulled back and thrust in again, a slow, deliberate stroke, and his head tipped back, a groan spilling from his throat. I braced myself above him, watching the way his muscles flexed, the way his body took me in. I wanted to see everything. The way his mouth fell open every time I filled him. The way his pleasure built, the moment it took him over completely. I set the rhythm slow at first, savoring it, the slide and heat, the way his hole clenched around my cock, the way he whispered my name like a prayer. But soon, neither of us could hold back, and I drove into him harder, deeper, chasing that edge, pushing him closer.

“Oh God, Zac,” he whimpered. “Yes! Right there.” He reached between us, stroking himself, his movements frantic.

“Come for me,” I murmured, voice rough.

He tensed, muscles going taut, his whole body shuddering as he spilled between us, his moan breaking into whimpers that made my vision blur. I lost it then, my hips bucking, pleasure coiling tight and snapping, rapture flooding through me as I buried myself one last time and came with a groan.

Chris’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body still trembling from his orgasm, but his legs remained locked around me, keeping me inside him. His eyes fluttered open as I collapsed onto him, his skin slick beneath mine, his chest heaving. His arms slid up my back, his fingers pressing into my skin like he didn’t want me to move. The light bathed us in orange warmth, casting shadows along his flushed skin, catching in the sweat dampening his hair.

I groaned, feeling the tight clutch of his body around my cock, still buried deep, still hard and refusing to go soft. The heat, the slickness, the aftershocks of his pleasure squeezing down on me—it was too much, and not enough.

“Zac…” His voice was wrecked, hoarse. But when his hips rocked up, a needy little roll against me, I knew exactly what he wanted.

“You want more?” I murmured, sliding my hands beneath his thighs, pushing them higher, opening him even further.

He let out a shaky breath, his lips parting. “Yeah.”

“Say it.” I dragged my cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, watching the way his body arched, the way his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I want it—I want you to fuck me again. Now.”

I grinned, dark and hungry, bending down to nip at his lower lip. “Good boy.”

Then I gave it to him. I set a brutal pace, driving into him, the sound of wet skin slapping filling the room. Chris clung to me, nails raking down my back, his face flushed, his mouth falling open as I fucked him even harder than before.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” I growled, my balls smacking his butt with every thrust. “So tight, taking me so deep. You love it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he gasped, voice breaking. “Fuck, Zac—I love it.”

I gripped his jaw, forcing his gaze on me. “You love having me inside you?”

His eyes shone, pupils blown wide. “Yes.”

“You love getting fucked by me?”

“God, yes.” His breath hitched, his cock hard again between us, leaking against his stomach.

I groaned at the sight, at the way his body begged for more. “Then come for me again,” I commanded, angling my thrusts until I hit that perfect spot inside him. “No touching this time. I want to feel you lose it while I’m still inside you.”

Chris let out a strangled cry, his body tightening, and then he was coming again, untouched, spilling between us with a shuddering moan. The way he clenched around me sent me spiraling over the edge, ecstasy rushing through me like an earthquake.

With a final, deep thrust, I buried myself to the hilt, shuddering as I pushed past that tight inner ring—deeper than before—where his body gripped my cock in a way that made my vision blur. Chris whimpered, his fingers digging into my back, and the way he squeezed down on me sent a bolt of pleasure straight to my spine. My entire body locked up as I came, my cock pulsing, filling the same condom that was already slick with my first release.

For a moment, the world went silent, nothing but the harsh rasp of our breathing, the lingering tremors in my limbs as I collapsed onto him. His skin was flushed, damp, his eyes glassy as he looked up at me.

And fuck, he was beautiful.

For a long time, neither of us moved. My cock finally went limp, and I pulled out carefully, slipping off the condom and tossing it aside before slumping onto my back. Chris turned into me immediately, pressing his face to my chest, his breath warm against my skin, legs tangling with mine. I wrapped an arm around him without thinking, holding him close, fingers drifting lazily over his spine. Mine .

The moment stretched, warm and endless. It felt… natural. That should’ve unsettled me. Maybe it did, in some quiet, subconscious way.

I stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, the aftershocks still tingling through my limbs. My mind should’ve been racing—what this meant, what it changed—but I couldn’t bring myself to analyze it yet. All I knew was that I just had the most intense, most mindblowing orgasm in my entire life, and that I wanted to keep touching him. That I liked the weight of him against me, the way his breath slowed to match mine. That I wasn’t ready to leave.

Chris shifted, pressing closer, his lips ghosting over my collarbone. “You okay?”

I exhaled through my nose, my fingers still tracing his back. “Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

He didn’t push. Just hummed softly, settling against me like he belonged there. And maybe—for tonight, at least—he did. But when tomorrow comes, when reality presses in, I wasn’t sure what I’d see when I looked at him. Or worse—what I’d see when I looked at myself.