Page 6 of The Boss

Edward chuckled, his hand sliding down my leg. “Rushing me already? Perfection takes time, my boy. But since Mr. Steele is one of my most valued clients, I’ll have it ready by tomorrow. Leave your home address to my assistant, and it will be delivered first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.” I kept my eyes forward, focusing on our reflections, until the sound of footsteps made me glance toward the door. Isaac stepped inside, his expression unreadable, just as the old tailor withdrew his hand.

“How’s it going?” he asked, his tone light.

“Nearly finished, sir,” Edward said, seeming a bit flustered.

Isaac nodded, turning his attention to me. If I’d felt I might’ve gotten hard from Edward’s fondling, it was nothing compared to standing almost naked and being scrutinized by my sexy-as-hell boss. But his gaze left me too soon. “And what about my wedding suit?”

“The shirt and the tuxedo still need more work, but the pants are almost fitted. Would you like to try them on while you wait?”

“Yes, I would,” he said, and then he was gone, following Edward into the shadows.

Left alone, I adjusted my jockstrap to accommodate my growing boner. It took all my willpower not to keep touching myself, but no matter how horny I was, this wasn’t the time or the place for that. The last thing I needed was for my boss to catch me whacking off, so I looked around for my clothes and started dressing. But as I buttoned up my shirt, I realized my pants were gone. The old tailor must have taken them away to fix them. I had no choice but to venture out of the dressing room in just a shirt and jocks, hoping I wouldn’t run into any customers. But instead of going into the main area of the shop, I followed the sound of two muffled voices—what sounded like Isaac and Edward deep in conversation.

Further down the passage, I discovered another fitting room, hidden behind a thick, dark curtain. When I took a peek, I saw Isaac half-dressed, his shirt covering the top of his round ass, his muscular legs spread in an assertive stance on the small dais. His back was turned to me, but I had a perfect view of his reflection in the mirror, and my gaze slid to his crotch.There, the biggest bulge I’d ever seen jutted between the flaps of his shirt, the outline stark against the thin fabric of his white briefs. Edward was crouching beside him, stealing glances as he worked.

For a moment, I froze, the sight of my scantily clad boss stirring something that felt both thrilling and deeply inappropriate. He was built like a force of nature—tall, broad-shouldered, and packed with powerful muscle, the kind forged through raw strength rather than vanity. Every movement carried effortless control, his presence commanding without a word. Veins traced his thick forearms, hinting at the power in his grip, while his chest pulled the shirt taut, barely containing the raw masculinity he exuded. There was nothing delicate about him—just sheer, unshakable strength, the kind that made you instinctively step aside and let him take charge.

The sound of someone clearing his throat behind me made me start. When I spun around, Edward’s younger associate was standing there, my pants in his hands.

“Um, I fixed your trousers,” he muttered, offering me the torn chinos without meeting my eyes. Unlike his boss, the sight of my exposed ass seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” I said, examining his handiwork. The stitch ran along the seam in the middle, almost undetectable. “Nice job,” I added, but the guy was already gone.

I went back to the first dressing room and put my pants on, hoping they would hold on at least until I got back home. But as I tied my shoes, the image of Isaac in a state of undress flickered through my mind, vivid and unshakable. The way his briefs clung to his ass, the fabric almost swallowed by those round, hairy cheeks. The way his bulge stretched the material in the front, leaving little to the imagination. The way those thick thighs flexed with every shift, igniting thoughts I had no business entertaining about my boss.

I could say one thing for sure, though: this was not how I’d imagined my first day.

Not at all.

4. Zac

The city was a shimmer of light and movement as I steered my car through the streets, the quiet purr of the engine a comforting hum beneath my hands. The trees lining the sidewalks were just starting to blush with gold, a reminder that the days were growing shorter, the air cooler. Chris sat beside me, wiggling in his seat, the lingering embarrassment of his wardrobe mishap still fresh in his mind. I had to admit, the whole situation had been funny as hell. But I’d seen enough of the kid today to know he didn’t need me rubbing it in.

“You said you wrestled in college?” I asked, cutting through the companionable silence.

Chris blinked at me, then nodded. “Yeah. Gettysburg.”

“Good program?”

“Decent. DIII, but competitive.” He smirked. “I won the Northeast Regional title my senior year.”

I hummed, one hand casually draped over the steering wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. “Explains the pants-tearing quads,” I said, grinning.

Color rose to his face again, but he laughed. “Yeah, they’ve been known to bust a few seams.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What weight class?”

“One eighty-six,” he said, more relaxed now.

I nodded. “You still train?”

“A little. Gym, mostly. Not much time for rolling on the mat anymore.”

His restless energy now made sense. He was used to movement, impact, the grind of pushing his body to its limits. I knew the type. Hell, Iwasthe type—even with boardrooms and balance sheets taking most of my time now.

“What about you? You said you played football? Linebacker, right?”

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