Mr. Bossy Devil (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 2) Page 6

  Just. Fucking. Done.

  Correction.

  My dick is done. Seriously done.

  My happy stick becomes really, really happy in my pants.

  Yes, that’s right. It happens.

  As soon as I figure out I’m not going to be able to hold out, I try and pretend like everything is normal, but have you ever tried to maintain a normal face when you’re in the middle of coming? I think not. I can’t control my body’s reaction. My muscles tremble, and my hips jack forward. Back. Forward. Back. All the while thrusting as Zoe grinds against me. A low, feral groan escapes my throat, and my eyes close. Something black fills up the room, and I nearly panic because I can’t see the flashlight Zoe dropped on the floor, but then bright colors burst behind my closed eyes, and I might as well be seeing fucking unicorns and dancing donkeys in tutus.

  I might have been able to pass it off as just being extra excited, but then Zoe freezes. She wriggles back an inch, and I know she felt it—the wetness. Because it’s been a while, and when I come, I really make sure I do it right. Also, I think that might have just been the hardest I’ve ever come in my entire fucking life. Not just with no stimulation. Ever.

  There’s a massive, wet stain spreading across my jeans. My jeans are light and faded, so they really show wetness. It looks a little bit like I peed my pants, except we both know it’s not pee.

  “Did you just…” Zoe leaps off my lap, and horror is etched all over her face.

  How exactly does one salvage a situation like this? I wouldn’t know because I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before. I go for comedy, of course, because humor makes everything better, right?

  “Would it be any better if I said I peed myself in excitement?”

  Zoe gives me a stony glare and slowly crosses her arms. I guess there are a few things humor can’t fix.

  “You know what?” Zoe fumes. “You disgust me.”

  “That’s a given. I’m a dude. You used to tell me this at least four times a week back when we lived in the same house.”

  “That’s because you used to pee all over the toilet seat since you were too lazy to put it up like a decent person and put it back down so that no one fell in.”

  “That’s because my mom legitimately did fall in, and she yelled at me for ten minutes straight after about how it feels like falling into the toilet at three in the morning when she was half asleep. It scarred me for life, and there was no way I was taking a chance on forgetting.”

  “So, you just pissed all over the thing instead? Because that was so much better.”

  “There were maybe two or three times I missed a little.”

  Zoe glances pointedly at my crotch. “Like tonight. I can’t believe you…that…” She throws her hands up and lets out a sigh that could very well shake the walls. “Why am I even standing here having this conversation? I have no idea why I just…uh…that was a horrible mistake, and it will never, ever, be repeated or spoken of. Ever. It proves what a huge mistake even coming here was. And for the record, I’m drunk.”

  “But not that drunk.”

  “Argh!” Zoe stalks over, grabs her purse, and throws it over her shoulder. “See you never. Stay the heck out of my life. I’m quitting, and that’s final.”

  “But you lost at rock, paper, scissors.” Of course, that’s the most mature thing I can think of to say.

  Then again, I’m still sitting here on the couch in the semi-darkness, with the only light coming from my phone’s flashlight because Zoe shut hers off and tossed it into her purse already. I’m buzzed on whisky and buzzed on her, the obvious causes of what happened in my pants.

  “That’s the real reason you asked me here tonight, isn’t it? Because you wanted to get your rocks off and probably use it to blackmail me too. Lucky for me, you didn’t plan on the power outage and your cameras going down.”

  “What cameras? Oh. You think I filmed the whole thing?” Because I’m seriously a bastard—which I just basically figured out tonight before I held out some hope—I let out a snort of surprised laughter. “Only you would think of something like that.”

  “And only you would threaten to fire everyone I work with just because I quit.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s maybe about that?” Zoe’s giving me a death glare, but her eyes are kind of crossed since they’re so narrow, and she has to look down her nose and sideways at me, so it’s ruining the effect. I very nearly laugh again, which would be ungentlemanly, so I do my best to hold it back.

  “Maybe I just wanted to invite you here to catch up, just like I said.”

  “Except you weren’t actually interested in anything that has to do with my life. You just wanted to issue commands and keep me working for a company that was good until you took it over. Now I’m sure it’s going to go downhill fast.”

  “My track record says otherwise.”

  “You can ball your track record into a freaking wad and stick it up your butt hole.”

  “I think that’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  Zoe’s nostrils flare. God, she’s sexy when she looks like she’s about to rip my throat out. “Good. You deserve it. And then, instead of catching up, or whatever you want to call it, you decide to feed me some whisky and jump my bones. Not cool.”

  “For the record, it was you who was severely eager to jump mine.”

  “And that lasted for all of three seconds. Now I know why you’re a serial dater. You have money, so all these amazing, talented, and smoking hot women are willing to date you or at least put in an appearance with you, but then they find out about your little problem, and they’re obviously not going to stick around for that kind of thing, so they ghost you, and you have to move on to the next thing and so on and so on.”

  “I guess you have me all figured out.”

  “Don’t worry. It actually works in your favor, now that I know about it. Before, I thought you were the one doing the dumping and moving on. This makes you seem less like an asshole and more like a disappointment. I actually feel sorry for you. You know, there are doctors…”

  “Now that’s just plain mean, calling me a disappointment. My dick isn’t a disappointment. What happened tonight was actually a compliment.” Because my dick might be an even bigger asshole than I can sometimes be, he roars to life in my pants, getting harder than a damn baseball bat eager as fuck to redeem himself by hitting one hell of a home run. I shrug. “I’m ready to go again if you are.”

  Zoe literally flashes me the bird. Perfect—she can’t say a bad word if her life depended on it—Zoe flips me the bird. “Fuck you, Raiden.”

  I lift a brow and offer a grin that is way too cocky for a guy who just blew his load in his pants after like four point eight seconds. “Alright. That’s what I was proposing. I didn’t think you’d be up for it because I’m getting some seriously mixed messages, but…”

  “We are done. Forever. Don’t call me, don’t fire anyone, don’t look me up, and don’t interfere with my life. If you do, in any way, I’ll make sure the entire world knows about what happened here tonight.”

  “You’ll sue me for sexual harassment?”

  “No,” Zoe huffs. Of course, she wouldn’t lie. That’s not her style. “But I’ll make sure everyone knows that you…well…yeah. You know.”

  “I don’t…” As if my wet jeans weren’t any indication.

  “You’re such a…a…a poop pants. You know that?”

  “Nice. I’m glad to see you’ve graduated to using adult words.”

  “Shut the eff up!” Zoe yells. “God! You can be so frustrating!” She stamps her foot. “You haven’t grown up at all. I have no clue how you have all this money and…and power, and how everyone thinks you’re something because you’re seriously nothing but an asshole.”

  “I offered a second round, and I promised that this time, I’d pleasure you properly, but you were the one who declined. I’m assuming we’re talking about that. That being the thing th
at matters.”

  “I hate you.” Zoe fumes. “We are done. I’m leaving.”

  The instant Zoe spins around, panic slams into me like a rabid moose charging and hammering me straight in the chest with its impressive rack. So, it’s clear I know nothing about wildlife. I’ve never even been camping, but my mom talks about moose and deer and bears and stuff since she lives in Colorado. Me? I wouldn’t know the difference between a moose or a bear. Okay, in all honesty, maybe to that extent, I would. Who am I kidding about that?

  But I do feel like I’ve just been charged at by something pissed off, wild, and dangerous. My chest compresses, my lungs deflate, and something weird goes on in my stomach. Even my limbs are tingly.

  I leap up and stalk across the room. I don’t touch Zoe because she’s apt to spin around and kick me straight in the nuts or something, but I do tug on her purse hard enough to spin her around. “You’re not driving.”

  Zoe rolls her eyes and tugs her purse away from me. “Of course I’m not. I’m going to call one of those services that pick you up and drive your car for you.”

  “Okay, I just wanted to make sure.”

  “Uh- okay.” Zoe shoots me another death glare.

  “See you around then.”

  “No! You will not be seeing me.”

  “But you’ll be at work tomorrow. I know you will because you have no other job to go to, and you’re too nice to just leave everyone fucked because you decide to up and walk out. You’ll at least give your two weeks’ notice so that they can find a replacement, and also so you’ll have time to leave training notes or whatever you need to do to ensure a smooth transition.”

  “So, you’ll let me quit?”

  “I would have to. I can’t stop you. And I was bullshitting about the blackmail. Of course I wouldn’t fire anyone. There. You have all the power. You decide. I hope you do the right thing and choose to stay at something you’re good at.”

  “You’re not going to get to me with your reverse psychology?”

  “I think reverse psychology would be saying I hope you quit, get into some terrible accident, rot forever, and have worms eat your eyes.”

  “Jesus,” Zoe hisses. “Don’t remind me about that.”

  We read this poem back when we were kids. I’ve always hated the dark (yes, I know there are therapists and doctors for that too, and I’m rich enough to afford to get my problems and random phobias figured out because I’m a grown-ass man, and I should want to spend absurd amounts of money doing those things in order to better myself as a human being), and so, of course, one night, Zoe decides to turn off the bedroom light, get out her flashlight, and read this stupid horror book with all sorts of morbid poems.

  Who writes poems about gross things like worms eating your eyes?

  Anyway, I find it kind of fitting. My phone is in my hand, the light shining a straight beam at Zoe, kind of like how she held the flashlight against her face that night. I thought she was terrifying that night. I kind of still do, in a completely different sort of way.

  Terror sometimes means awe-inspiring.

  “Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m not going to be around. I have other things I need to be doing, so quit or don’t quit. I won’t bother you. But you have every opportunity for advancement because I always make sure that everyone who works for me who has potential and wants to better themselves has the opportunity to do it, barrier-free.”

  “Because you like to pretend you’re a nice person.”

  “Because it just makes sense, financially.”

  “I see. Everything really is about money.”

  This isn’t nearly finished, so I just shrug. I won’t tip Zoe off to the fact that I have every plan to suddenly take a real interest in the business I just acquired. And in the potential leadership that I could plumb from the already existing employees. Just about every place could use a little fine-tuning. Usually, I pay people, experts, to do that kind of thing. I actually do care that the people who work for me have every chance to succeed and chase their dreams, and not just because it usually does mean better production, more money, and more success. To the outside world, it might appear that way, and I’ve never been one to care about correcting people’s assumptions. I always knew the truth, which was enough for me.

  “Goodnight, Zoe. I hope you stick around. You always were smart.”

  “Smart. Which is why you’ll have my two weeks tomorrow.”

  “I don’t need it personally. Just put it in with HR.”

  Zoe grumbles something, gives me one more scathing look, and storms out the front door. I can literally hear her outside as soon as the door shuts, calling for a cab or whatever the company is called. It’s actually a great idea. Maybe I should invest in something like it.

  I walk back to the living room. I don’t look at the couch where what was probably the best and worst moment of my life, at least sexually, just happened. I decide I’ll think about it later. As in, in the shower, with my fist. And maybe after that, when I have a clear head, I can figure out what the fuck stack happened here tonight.

  I stand at the window, watching like a grade A professional stalker (I’m sure there are such things) until I see a car pull up. One guy gets into Zoe’s vehicle while she gets into the passenger seat.

  My mind is already whirling since I’m apparently also good at thinking about something or with something other than my dick—kind of. I’m starting to put together a vague plan.

  I never expected to see Zoe again, but now that she practically just waltzed straight into my life, I’m not letting her leave just like that, even if what she said was true. Even if I never did contact her, I still thought about her—a lot. I was busy, too, but I just had no idea what I’d say. Fear can make you do some dumb things, but it can also keep you from doing some smart ones.

  It might not be clear that I really do want to talk. I want to know what happened in the past two decades. Or at least, I thought I did. Now, it might be more than that, for some reason I can’t quite comprehend. I don’t know what’s going on with my body where Zoe is concerned. I can only blame it on straight-up testosterone. Or something. To be fair to my cock, even if he did let me down in the most spectacularly embarrassing fashion tonight, I don’t know what’s going on with my head either.

  And, after all, I did win at rock, paper, scissors, and that shit is serious business.

  I have to find a way to keep Zoe from going back on her word.

  Even if I can’t fully explain why.

  CHAPTER 8

  Zoe

  By the time I get to work on Monday morning, it becomes evident that Rancid Raiden has struck again.

  My two weeks’ notice is burning a hole through my purse, which I have slung over my shoulder. As soon as I walk in, I can tell just by the air in the office that something is up. No one is this happy on a Monday morning, but I see people walking around all over the place with huge grins and sparkly eyes.

  The receptionist, Kate, flashes me a thumbs up as I walk by. I keep walking through the door and down the hall to my own department. It’s like freaking Christmas in there. There are folks everywhere, and Jamie is hooting something about a ‘free vacation’ while Sam is actually dancing a little jig. Sam is sixty-two, just to put things into perspective.

  My closest friend in the department, Bonnie, grabs my arms the second she sees me enter our workspace. She quickly tugs me into my small office and flicks on the light.

  “Oh my god,” she gasps excitedly.

  Bonnie is almost forty. She has told me that she only smokes so she can have the extra break time. She’s worn her hair in a pixie cut for as long as I’ve known her, and we started here around the same time. She frequently changes the color of it, and right now, it’s dyed a flashy neon red. It kind of reminds me of a fire hydrant. She’s rail-thin, but then again, she’s almost six feet tall. Bonnie loves jeans and t-shirts, and even though we have a dress code here, she somehow gets away with pairing jeans with a blazer
or a pencil skirt with a tucked-in t-shirt. She’s rocking the latter today.

  “What’s going on? Why is everyone in party mode on a Monday morning?”

  “Check your email!” Bonnie commands. “Or wait, I’ll just tell you. We all got an email this morning, all the department heads and managers, and HR people, and…”

  “I’ll just check my email.”

  “No!” Bonnie grips my hand and pumps it hard for no apparent reason. “I’m getting to the point. Just hold on. So, we all got an email this morning. And next week, we’re going for a week-long corporate training at some remote resort in Colorado!”

  “What?”

  “Yes! Everyone is super pumped. I looked the place up, and it looks amazing! Getting taken over can really suck, and everyone was worried about their jobs since everyone hates change and whatnot, but this is awesome! It’s going to rock. Seriously. We aren’t getting restricted into something crappy where other people come and do what we’re already doing, only half as well. This isn’t a soulless takeover deal. The guy who owns us now, he seriously cares about his employees. I can’t believe we’re going to Colorado!”

  “It’s cold in Colorado, and there are weird bugs,” I state flatly.

  “Weird bugs!” Bonnie pulls a face. “You’re a weird bug. This is amazing! It’s such a great opportunity!”

  “Yeah. Right. Not for the people who don’t get to go.”

  “Everyone who isn’t going on this retreat is going on a week-long one back at the same resort in a month from now after our group’s restructuring and training take place.”

  “I see.”

  “Aren’t you excited at all? What’s wrong with you? This is free! I’m a single mom, you know. I can’t just afford vacations.”

  “Uh, yeah. Who is going to look after all the kids while we’re gone?”

  “That’s the best part! Anyone who can’t find childcare gets to take their children with them!”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. They’re having a children’s day camp at the resort while the parents are in training. The place is huge, and there aren’t that many of us, so families get their own cabins.”