Page 24 of The Boss

“I’m serious,” he said. “Go jerk off in the bathroom or something before you make another employee cry.”

I looked away, flexing my jaw. “Already did.”

Chris hesitated. “Well, do it again.”

“Did that too,” I muttered.

He stared at me, incredulous. “And it didn’t help?”

I didn’t meet his eyes. Silence stretched between us. I don’t know why I said what I said next. “Before she left… Chantelle said that if I wanted to… I could do it with someone else. She’s busy all the time and she thinks we should keep things open until the wedding.”

The air in the room changed. When I finally dared to look at him again, he was gaping at me, mouth hanging half-open. My gaze slipped to his lips, pink and glistening, just as he licked them. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Okay, look. I’ll do it for you if you promise to stop being a dick.”

My eyes snapped to his. “What?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed, like we were talking about something as casual as grabbing lunch. “You need a tug job? Fine. I’ll handle it. You let me get you off, you stop acting like an asshole. Deal?”

My stomach clenched. My skin went hot, then cold, then hot again. A sharp jolt of something slammed through me, curling tight in my gut.This is a joke.It had to be a joke. Except Chris didn’tlooklike he was joking. I swallowed hard, hands clenching into fists beneath my desk. “You can’t be serious.”

Chris held my gaze, unflinching, folding his arms. “If that’s what it takes for you to be normal again, then yeah, I’m serious.”

“Chris—”

“Zac. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want it.”

I looked him in the eye. And I had every intention to tell him to fuck off. But for some reason, I couldn’t find my voice. My face burned, a sharp, indignant heat crawling up my neck. My pulse roared in my ears. My throat worked, my fingers flexing at my sides. “Go back to work,” I muttered. “We’re not doing this.”

“Suit yourself.” And with that, he turned to leave.

A sharp breath left my lips. “Wait.”

He paused, his hand already on the door handle.

A heavy beat of silence. Something inside me twisted, fierce and undeniable. The air between us tightened, stretched so taut it felt like it might snap. Then, finally—too desperate, too far gone, too fucking reckless—I let the last of my resistance slip. I swallowed hard, and in a voice that barely sounded like my own, I rasped, “Lock the door.”

11. Chris

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 secondI 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.

---