Just a Bit Bossy by Alessandra Hazard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 23

 

 

Three months later

 

Nate moaned, his glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling of the office unseeingly as Raffaele pounded into him. God, nothing should feel this fucking good. He couldn’t get enough of this. It felt like he was born to take that cock and every minute that it wasn’t inside him felt like a waste. If sex addiction was a thing, Nate definitely had it. To his growing desperation, he wasn’t getting tired of it at all. If anything, it had become worse: now even Raffaele’s scent turned him on—hell, everything about him turned him on. Nate had to actively stop himself from kissing him at random moments in front of other people.

“Want you deeper,” he muttered deliriously, trying to pull him closer, tighter. Unlike Nate, Raffaele was fully clothed but for his open fly, and the contrast between them only turned him on more.

Raffaele pulled out and slammed hard into him. Nate cried out.

“Look at you,” Raffaele said, his glazed black eyes roaming over Nate’s naked body. “You’re so desperate for cock. Would any cock do? Or do you want just mine?”

Part of him, the distant part that was still able to think, noted the strangeness of the question, the possessiveness of it. But people said weird shit during sex. He shouldn’t overthink it. “Yours,” Nate mumbled, pulling Raffaele down into a needy kiss. God, he wanted to consume him, swallow him whole. “Want you. So much.”

Raffaele groaned and started fucking him harder, his thrusts losing rhythm and becoming erratic until he shuddered and spilled into the condom. It felt amazing, to feel him lose control and come before him—something that almost never happened. It was so damn hot, but it left Nate unsatisfied. He whined in frustration, clenching around the softening cock in him.

Raffaele kissed his neck before dropping to his knees in front of him. He pushed Nate’s spread legs even wider and then—

Nate wailed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as Raffaele took his hard cock into his mouth. It was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen—to see his proud, domineering boss on his knees, sucking his cock. But it still wasn’t enough. His hole was throbbing, aching to be filled, and Nate whined in frustration.

“I know what you want,” Raffaele said, pulling off his cock and moving his head lower. He licked his hole, and Nate moaned, delirious.

“You don’t want your cock sucked,” Raffaele said between licks. “You want me to eat you out, lick your greedy little hole.”

“Shut up,” Nate said weakly, his face burning. “I hate dirty talk.”

“Liar,” Raffaele said, sucking on his hole, before licking it, again and again. “You’re a slut for it.”

“Shut up and eat me out,” Nate said, burying his fingers in Raffaele’s hair and pressing his face tighter against his ass. More.

Raffaele chuckled and pushed his tongue inside him.

Nate came so hard he nearly blacked out.

 

***

 

Really, it was a wonder they got any work done.

By the time Nate got home that day, he’d been fucked three times. His ass felt a little sore when he moved, but after months of this, his body was used to it and didn’t complain much. Nate was aware that it was probably kind of messed-up that he liked feeling the soreness. It reminded him of Raffaele even when he wasn’t there.

“Are we going to finally talk about it?”

Nate came to a stop and winced. “Hey. I’m tired. Can we talk tomorrow—”

“No, we can’t,” Maya said from the couch, where she had apparently been lying in wait for him. “It’s ten in the evening, Nate. Ten! This is ridiculous!”

“We had lots of work,” Nate said defensively. “I’m being paid for overtime.”

“Lots of work,” Maya said, practically radiating skepticism. She got to her feet and walked over. She sniffed. “Is that why you smell of some cologne? It’s a very nice cologne, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s new,” Nate said. “Do you like it?”

Maya gave him a flat look. “You don’t wear cologne. Even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to afford such an expensive one.”

“Wow, you can tell the price by the scent alone?” Nate said with a weak chuckle.

His sister smacked him on the head. “Stop playing dumb. You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know what’s going on just because you’re barely home? I’m going to ask you one question. And you’re going to answer me honestly. Why are you still sleeping with your asshole of a boss, you dunderhead?”

Nate swallowed.

He didn’t have an answer. He honestly didn’t know how to answer—how to justify his irresponsible behavior.

And he knew it was irresponsible. They had been ridiculously lucky that no one had come across them so far and the gossip hadn’t spread through the entire building. No one would ever take him seriously as a game designer if it became known that he was the boss’s fucktoy. His career would be ruined before it even properly started. Even if he managed to get employed by another company in a different city even, the rumors would follow him everywhere. The video gaming industry was very close-knit, with people changing studios very often, so the rumors about his misconduct would be everywhere. He might as well move to Siberia.

“I…” He bit his lip, unable to meet his sister’s eyes. “I just… I can’t stop. I can’t, okay?”

She sighed. “You’re an idiot. It can only end very badly for you, you know that, right?”

Nate smiled humorlessly. “Yeah. I know.” Either Raffaele would get tired of him or they would get caught. He couldn’t think of any other outcome. He had accepted by now that he wasn’t getting tired of Raffaele.

“Is he that good?”

Nate shrugged, looking anywhere but at his sister. “I just can’t think when he’s close. But I can’t stand not having him close, either.”

He could feel Maya’s troubled look with his skin.

“You know what?” she said at last. “Go get changed. We’re going out tonight. You will pick up a pretty girl—or a handsome guy. Have sex with someone other than him.”

Running a hand through his hair, Nate pulled a face. “I’m tired, Maya. I’m not really in the mood.”

She snorted. “You’re never tired for him. Stop whining and get dressed. Wear something good. We’re going out.”

“Come on, I have to go to work early tomorrow—”

“You’re young and healthy. You can function one day on four hours of sleep. Now get dressed. Or I’ll start thinking you have feelings for that asshole.”

That shut Nate up. Because—nope, he wasn’t going there. Just no.

It took him fifteen minutes to take a quick shower and get dressed in something decent. He yawned, studying himself in the mirror. He looked all right, but tired. He really was tired and not in the mood to get laid by some random person. The mere thought turned his stomach—because he didn’t like one-night stands. It had nothing to do with Raffaele, no matter what Maya might have implied.

“You ready?” Maya said.

Nate nodded with forced enthusiasm.

The club was just like any other club out there.

Nate suppressed a wince at the noise, the loud music causing a dull headache at the top of his forehead. All he wanted was sleep. Hooking up with someone was the last thing he wanted. But Maya was like a bulldog with a bone. She wouldn’t have let it go if he had just refused to go. She would have drawn all kinds of conclusions—the wrong conclusions.

“Smile,” Maya said. “Go get us drinks. Talk to people. Flirt. Live a little, come on!”

Sighing, Nate did as he was told. He went to the bar and ordered them drinks. He settled against the bar and people-watched. People sometimes came over and tried to pick him up. Women and men alike. The latter surprised him a little. Did he give off that vibe now?

The thought made him… not upset, exactly, but a little uneasy. Had he changed that fundamentally that people could tell just by looking at him?

“It’s pretty hot in here, right?” the guy—Arnold or something—said, trying to shout over the loud music. He was older and fairly attractive. “How about getting some fresh air at the back?” His flirtatious smile strongly hinted that he wanted to get more than just “fresh air.”

Nate gripped his drink harder. “I’m good, thanks,” he said, before gulping it down. The alcohol hit his system hard and fast, so fast that he felt nearly dizzy for a moment. Right. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and he was tired; of course the booze would affect him much faster than normal.

The guy said something again, but Nate could barely hear it over the music. “What?” he yelled.

Arnold leaned right to his ear and said, his breath tickling Nate’s ear, “I really want to suck your cock.”

Nate blinked a few times, his alcohol-addled brain struggling to keep up.

“Or you can suck mine,” the guy said with a leer, looking at his lips.

Nate felt nausea rise in his throat. He shook his head, dazed and confused. “No,” he said. Why was everything spinning? The alcohol shouldn’t have affected him so strongly, no matter how hungry and tired he was. Had his drink been spiked?

His anxiety rising, Nate tried to search the crowd for his sister, but he couldn’t find her in the sea of dancing people.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he managed—slurred out, barely able to focus his gaze on the guy.

“Done what?” Arnold said innocently, his hand creeping up Nate’s thigh and stroking his half-hard cock. Nausea and arousal hit Nate at once in equal measure. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. It felt like his limbs weighed a ton.

“You don’t want to do this,” Nate heard himself slur out. “I’m not here alone.”

Arnold glanced around. “I’ve been watching you. I haven’t seen you with anyone.”

Fuck, where was Maya when he needed her?

“Then you’re an idiot,” Nate said, finally forcing his limbs to move. “Fuck off, dude.” He staggered away from the bar, his unfocused gaze trying and failing to find his sister. He could feel Arnold following him but not attempting to touch him, probably waiting for the right opportunity. Nate considered his options, but there weren’t many. Maya had the car keys and he couldn’t drive in this state anyway. He could try to call his sister, but she was unlikely to hear him over the loud music. He needed to find a quieter place. A quieter, safer place.

He staggered into the men’s room, and to his relief, there were two guys there, pissing at the urinals. Arnold followed him inside but couldn’t grab him without attracting unwanted attention.

Nate got into the nearest bathroom stall and locked the door with shaking fingers, his cock uncomfortably hard.

Then he pushed the toilet lid down and sank onto the seat. Finding his sister’s number, he pressed Call.

The door rattled.

Gripping his phone harder, Nate waited, silently begging Maya to pick up. She would never let him live it down if she had to save him from some creep, but he had no other options. Calling anyone else would be so damn humiliating. He was a grown man. He shouldn’t need rescuing.

“I’m calling the police,” Nate said loudly. “So fucking leave before they get here.”

Arnold—or whatever the fucker’s name was—snorted. “Right. Guys like you never call the police. Come on now, get out, stop being a drama queen. I saw how you were looking at me. We can have fun.”

It turned Nate’s stomach to learn that he wasn’t the asshole’s first victim. The worst part was, what Arnold said really made sense: he probably really got away with this shit if the guys he coerced were too embarrassed to admit they were being molested by another man. Toxic masculinity was the worst, and Nate wasn’t immune to that line of thinking, either. He was too embarrassed to call the police over something like this. He wasn’t a small, defenseless woman. He was a pretty big guy. He should have been able to protect himself from assholes who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Normally, he could have, but not when his vision was swimming and his cock was so hard. Fuck, what had been in that drink?

“Fuck off,” Nate said, trying to focus his gaze on his phone. “I’m not sucking your cock, so you can wait until hell freezes over.” He could wait. Maya would check her phone at some point when she noticed that he was missing.

Arnold let out a put-upon sigh, as if Nate was being the asshole here.

But then Nate heard the sound of retreating footsteps. The door opened and closed.

Nate peered at the door suspiciously, unconvinced that Arnold had really given up and left. It was entirely possible that the dick was waiting for him outside the bathroom.

Well, he would be waiting for a long time. Nate closed his eyes and breathed, trying to sober up, but whatever had been in his drink was hella strong. He didn’t feel sober, his thoughts unable to focus on anything.

He wished Raffaele were here.

Nate shook his head, trying to shake off the inane thought, but that only made him dizzier. He groaned, dropping his head into his hands, feeling so damn pathetic and weak and pissed at himself for it. How had he missed that his drink had been spiked?

And why do you care that it was? said the voice at the back of his head. Didn’t you come here to get laid? Wouldn’t the drugs have made things easier?

The thought made him pause for a moment. But he pushed it away. He didn’t… He didn’t want to think about it.

He wished Raffaele were here.

Nate groaned again. For fuck’s sake.

But the thought was impossible to push away, coming back to him. He yearned for Raffaele’s insufferably self-assured attitude. No one would dare spike Raffaele’s drink. It was only losers like Nate who got into this kind of shit. Raffaele was so strong… and firm, and steady. Nate felt wonderfully centered around him. So good. And safe. Taken care of.

“Ugh, I need to bleach my brain,” Nate muttered. “I’m just drunk. And drugged. That’s it.” He wasn’t responsible for any weird thoughts in this state. This wasn’t him. He didn’t fucking need Raffaele Ferrara to come here like some knight in shining armor and save the day. For one thing, he didn’t need saving. For another, Raffaele would make a terrible knight in shining armor. He was more of a dragon. A very bossy dragon. And a very hot one. Because dragons were hot. They breathed fire, so they were hot, right?

Christ, what was wrong with him? It seemed he was getting worse, not better. His vision was swimming and the nausea and inane thoughts were getting worse, too. The artificial arousal only added to his nausea. Maybe he needed to call 911.

He focused his gaze on the phone in his lap and then picked it up again. His hands were shaking. Was that a bad sign?

He tapped on his recent calls, intending to try Maya’s number again, but his gaze fell on the contact below. Satan.

Later, Nate would blame his shaking hands for missing Maya’s name. But he had no excuse for not ending the call after he hit Raffaele’s contact by mistake.

“Nate?”

It was absolutely disgusting the way he felt a little better and more focused just from hearing that low voice. Disgusting and very, very alarming.

“I…” Nate said, feeling incredibly foolish. “Never mind.”

He hung up, and then groaned pitifully. What had he been thinking?

His phone went off.

Nate winced, but he knew better than to ignore the call. He answered. “Look, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to call you.” He did his best not to slur and sound normal, but it probably wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t fooled anyone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Raffaele said sharply. “Where are you?”

Nate blinked, confused, before realizing that Raffaele could likely hear the music. “In a club,” he admitted. “Lush. Someone’s drugged me and I don’t feel too good.”

Raffaele swore in Italian. “Are you safe right now?”

Nate let out a humorless chuckle, fighting another wave of nausea. “I locked myself in a bathroom stall.”

“Good,” Raffaele said in a clipped voice. “Don’t leave. What are your symptoms?”

“Nausea,” Nate said, closing his eyes. “My vision is kind of spinning. Tremors. And arousal.”

There was silence on the line for a moment before Raffaele said in a rather chilling voice, “Who were you with?”

Nate opened his eyes. “Some guy at the bar,” he said, feeling unsure, almost guilty. Which was ridiculous on so many levels Nate tried not to dwell on the feeling. Annoyed with himself, he said, “He was flirting with me. He wanted me to suck his cock.”

“Did you.” Raffaele’s voice was so toneless it didn’t even sound like a question.

Nate almost said yes. He wanted to say yes, just to see how Raffaele would react.

“No,” he said, not offering any explanation. He didn’t owe it to him. They were just the boss and his PA who fucked sometimes, nothing more. Raffaele had made it clear—and that was all Nate wanted, too. Really.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t move.”

The relief that hit him was so strong it almost made him forget about his nausea. Almost.

He opened his mouth to say thanks, but the call disconnected.

Nate closed his eyes again and prepared to wait. Just fifteen minutes. He could wait fifteen minutes. Then he would be here. And everything would be all right.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when his phone went off again.

“Nate?” Maya said when he answered. “Where the hell are you? Did you go home with someone?”

Fighting another wave of dizziness, Nate managed, “I’m in the bathroom. Some asshole spiked my drink. I don’t feel good.”

“What—I’m coming!”

A few minutes later, Nate heard some guy chuckle. “This is a men’s restroom.”

“My brother needs my help,” Maya said, undeterred. “Nate?” she said, sounding closer.

“In here,” Nate forced out.

The door rattled. “Open the door, honey,” Maya said.

His hands shaking, Nate reached out and unlocked the door. Or rather, tried to. His limbs felt so damn weak that even the smallest task took a lot of focus.

“Oh my god,” Maya said when he finally managed to do it. “I’m calling 911.”

“No,” Nate said, struggling to focus his gaze on his sister. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine! You look like you’re about to pass out!”

That wasn’t far from the truth, actually.

“I’m fine,” Nate repeated stubbornly.

Maya sighed. “Come on, let’s get you home, then.” She tried to help him to his feet, but it felt like his body weighed a ton, his limbs heavy and hardly cooperating.

Nate moaned, fighting a wave of nausea. “Step back. I might throw up on you.”

“Do you need help?” someone said, presumably to Maya.

“Yes, I’d appreciate that, thank you,” Maya said.

And then hands—big, unfamiliar hands—touched him, trying to haul him to his feet.

Nate fought the hands. “Don’t touch me!” he slurred out.

“Nate, stop that, he’s just trying to help!”

“Don’t need help,” Nate managed, barely stopping himself from puking. Fuck, he felt so dizzy he had to close his eyes and breathe. In and out. In and out.

“Step aside,” came another male voice. A very familiar, very bossy voice.

Nate breathed out. Raffaele was here. He was here. He would take care of him. Of everything.

“Wait a minute…” Maya started saying, but of course Raffaele ignored her.

Although Nate didn’t open his eyes, he immediately recognized the hands on his body. He relaxed into the touch and didn’t resist when Raffaele hauled him to his feet. He buried his face in his boss’s neck, his hands clutching weakly at Raffaele’s back. He breathed in, some of his nausea fading away when he smelled Raffaele’s familiar scent. He smelled so nice. It wasn’t his cologne. Just his skin.

“Can you walk?” Raffaele said.

Nate assessed his state.

“I can try,” he mumbled. “Just don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t,” Raffaele said after a moment, putting Nate’s arm around his shoulders. “Hold on.”

Nate held on, and they started walking.

Truth be told, Raffaele had to do most of the walking. He was basically carrying Nate by the time they got out of the club.

“Our car is there,” Maya’s voice said. She sounded tense. Uncomfortable.

“I’ll take him in my car,” Raffaele said.

Nate’s half-hard cock went fully hard again. “Yeah,” he said, nuzzling Raffaele’s neck. “Take me in your car.”

“Nate!” Maya choked out, sounding a mix of scandalized, amused, and disapproving.

Nate couldn’t bring himself to care. He sucked on Raffaele’s neck, inhaling his scent greedily. His nausea was nearly gone, arousal pushing to the forefront of his mind. God, he wanted him. So, so much.

“Want you,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around Raffaele’s neck.

Raffaele’s arm around him tightened. “You’re drugged,” he said, his voice almost gentle.

Nate shivered, burying his face tighter against his neck. “Always want you. Only you.”

Maya made another strangled noise. “Shut up, Nate,” she said. “You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow.”

Nate didn’t care. It was suddenly of the utmost importance to tell Raffaele how much he wanted him. “Hate being away from you,” he muttered, kissing Raffaele’s throat. “I used to hate your horrible soul-sucking kisses, but now I want them all the time. Want you all the time. Miss sleeping next to you.”

“Nate, shut up,” Maya said, sounding pained.

Nate whined in protest when Raffaele gently pushed him away. “Don’t go,” he said, clutching at Raffaele’s shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Raffaele said, his voice uncharacteristically patient. “But you need to get into the car. I have to drive. I can’t drive with you all over me.”

“No,” Nate said stubbornly. “Maya can drive. You stay with me.”

Raffaele sighed. “Here,” he said, presumably to Maya. “You’ll have to drive.”

“What about Nate’s car?” Maya said.

“I’ll send someone to pick it up,” Raffaele said.

And then Raffaele half-carried Nate into the backseat of his car and settled him against the seat. Too far. Nate made a noise of protest and buried his face in Raffaele’s neck again.

“Don’t puke,” Raffaele told him as the car took off.

“Should we take him to the hospital?” Maya said.

“No,” Nate said again.

“I think he should be fine after the drug wears off,” Raffaele said after a moment. “If he doesn’t get better by the morning, then take him to the hospital.”

“Don’t want the hospital,” Nate mumbled, kissing his Adam’s apple. How could a person smell so good at ass o’clock? “Want you. Only you.”

“For god’s sake, Nate,” Maya said. “Please shut up.”

Nate did shut up. He slipped his hand down Raffaele’s firm chest, enjoying how strong it was, then lower, playing with the buckle of his belt.

“Nate,” Raffaele said quietly, his voice not quite as steady as normal. When Nate slipped his hand lower, he found out why: the bulge straining Raffaele’s pants was unmistakable. Nate groped it possessively. God, he couldn’t wait to get Raffaele inside of him again. It’d been too long. Four whole hours.

“You’d better not be touching his dick, Nate,” Maya said, her voice strained.

Nate froze guiltily. How did she know? It was dark in the backseat. “Am not touching his dick,” he said sulkily, putting his hand back on Raffaele’s chest.

There was something soothing about the steady beat of his heart. He felt so very safe.

His eyelids grew heavier and then—nothing.