~ ~ Zack ~ ~

The past three days coupled with lack of sleep was weighing heavy on my mind.

Sasha was still in London. Apparently, my cold, heartless dismissal had done little to deter her, and last night she'd messaged me. It read: If you won't. I will find someone that will.

A cold feeling settled in my gut, gripping my phone so tight it almost snapped.

That would have earned a sub of mine a spanking for such a challenge. Brat.

However, Sasha wasn't mine. Couldn't be mine.

So with a frustrated exhale, I rang her driver, Mr Davies who agreed to contact me should she get herself into any trouble.

I couldn't give her what she wanted, but I also realised it was unfair to stop her exploring her submissive nature. So although I felt homicidal and possessive beyond all rational reason at the thought of someone else having their hands on her, I shoved my feelings down. Deep fucking down with all the other things best left alone.

Onto my next headache which was self-inflicted.  

Why the fuck did I think it would be okay to let Max's son stay in my apartment?

What the hell had I been thinking?

I seriously had to question my state of mind.  True, in my defence, I still had it in my head he was a kid-a teenager.  Ellis Jenson was anything but a kid. Six feet of perfection greeted me. With his dirty blond hair just long enough to look soft, but short enough not to distract from his sharp features. Blue eyes like gas flames with a touch of green. Smooth, tanned skin and a hint of stubble on his jaw and thick muscles under his grey washed out tee-shirt with its slogan aptly telling me to fuck-right-off.  But the winner was those dark jeans that showcased his impressive ass.

To say I was unprepared for him was an understatement, and my inner shit hit the fan.

And when he smiled. Fuck me, it was like he was holding my balls in his hand. And I couldn't ignore the draw of him as he shook his hand. Eyes wide, both eager and a little afraid, shy one second and then cocky the next.

A brat. A wildcard.

Temptation that's what he fucking was.

It didn't matter what he was, he was Max's son... and straight.

Leaning back into my chair with a groan. Putting aside that he was straight, it didn't stop something stirring or the strange heat in the pit of my stomach, flaming something I hadn't felt for a long time—or not allowed myself to feel.

There was something else there too. Ellis Jenson was all bluster but beneath all that beat a submissive heart. I'd bet my left ball on it... and it only made shit more complicated.

I wasn't, however, shocked when he said he wanted to learn more about the lifestyle and, like most men, he thought he was a dominant.

E.L James had a lot to answer for. Christian fucking Grey.

A switch... at a push?

He's also surprised me when after one beer, he'd relaxed enough to share an incident that had happened at a graduation party. And although he sneered when he spoke of what the guy had suggested. When I glanced down. He was hard.

It was possible that was the submissive in him showing its face and nothing to do with him being curious?

Goddammit, now I was hard.

I stabbed a hand into my hair, frustrated with myself. Yeah, he might not be a kid—but he still felt like one. I mean, what the fuck did anyone know at twenty-three?

What did I know!? Actually... quite a lot.

That wasn't the best benchmark.

My kinks showed themselves at eighteen when a family friend, who was a good seven years older than me, asked me to choke her. And that first time, with one hand down between her soft thighs and the other wrapped around her throat, was still one of my fondest experiences.

I closed my eyes, willing my cock to calm the fuck down, knowing without even looking that it was obvious beneath the grey suit I'd worn today, which normally only accentuated my muscular thighs, only now they're competing the eight-inch kickstand trying to bust its way through my zipper.

And as if I needed any more encouragement, up popped the image of Ellis lying on my sofa in just his shorts. I'd taken a mental picture right there of the light golden hair trailing in a line down his chest, right to his happy place.

Christ. I was fucked up. I'd end up in hell, burning on a much higher heat than your average, perverse soul.

He's Max's son. He's Max's son. He's Max's son.

Attempting to drill that into my head did little as being the cunt I was, my conscience seemingly was only able to handle one crisis at a time, and right now it was on Sasha.

At least one of them was safe from me. Although, sadly out of sight was not out of mind.

I groaned out loudly this time, scrubbing my hand down my tired face. What I wouldn't give to just head up to my apartment and stretch out on my bed for a little shut-eye. My eyelids drifted shut, but only for a second when my office door flung open.

"Morning Boss, or do you prefer me to call you, Sir?"  Smirked James, tossing in a wink for added irritation.

It was too fucking early for this as I slid my chair further under my table because that fucker just wasn't quitting and I could hardly head off to the bathroom and rub one out.

The Sir  remark also hit me square in the gut. What possessed me to say that to Ellis?  As soon as it had slipped from my mouth, I wanted to hit the rewind button. And Ellis's face, the way his eyes rounded and cheeks flushed, a perfect submissive response.

"You could learn to knock like everyone else," I snapped.

And then in burst Ivy, all bright and fucking breezy. Prompting James to snark, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. "What like Ivy, here?"

"Eh, am I missing something?" Ivy's eyes batted between us. "Like Ivy what?"

I shook my head ready to get this shit-show started. Our morning meetings were dull, but necessary. "Sit, both of you. It's just the three of us today."

Instead of sitting, James flipped open his file and dropped a fresh pile of paperwork in front of me. More invoices to sign off. Shoving them aside, I asked. "How's your assistant?" This was Ellis' third day, but last night when I went up, he hadn't looked happy, but I didn't hang around to find out why.

Shitty? Yeah. But until I had full control over my fucked up head, not to mention the blood abandoning my brain when I was within six feet of him. It was safer to keep my distance. 

Honestly, he and Sasha would be the death of me.

"I took him shopping, and he's now the owner of a half-decent wardrobe." James sounded pissed-off about it. "Nothing he'd brought was suitable work attire."

"Oh, I could easily find him some suitable work attire," said Ivy, her tone husky, adding. "Hmm, a leather chest harness."

I glanced at Ivy. She was biting down on her bottom lip to suppress a snigger. She caught my eye and shrugged as if to say, what? It was funny.

Ellis's entire suitcase comprised jeans, sweats and tee-shirts, most decorated with colourful expletives. I was about to question his parents not packing at least one suit... but then I remembered he was an adult and in some fucked up way he was most likely rebelling against his dad shipping him over here.

"Okay, but what do you have him doing? Something of value, interest, yes?" Weirdly, I wanted him to send him home, having learnt something worthwhile.

Planting both his hands on my desk, he leaned across it with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you so interested? I wouldn't have thought what I had him doing would be of any concern to you?"

The bite in his question got my hackles up. What had crawled up his ass?

I grabbed his wrist before he pulled away. "It's every bit my fucking concern, James." It came out harsher than I'd intended.

His lips parted and eyes widened at my sharp tone. Letting go of his wrist, his spine snapped straight. "I've got him in the filing room."

I could feel myself burning up as sucked in more air to cool it. "The filing room?" When did we get a filing room?

"Everyone knows you start in the filing room!" There was a thick layer of disbelief in his voice. "He has zero experience in anything, not to mention he needs an attitude adjustment."

What he said made absolute sense and was a step-up from Max's offer of having him scrub floors. But his jibe prickled my skin. "Find him something else to do, James."

"No," he snapped, forcing me to sit back in my chair. "He'll be out of there when I deem he's shown enough application to deserve it."

I heard Ivy chuckle, but paid her no mind as my eyes narrowed on James. "You said you wanted an assistant—not a fucking lackey."

"And that is assisting me." He moved his hand to his hips, his eyebrows nudging together in a challenge. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this, Zack?"

He's right.  Why was I creating issues? Me and James had a great working partnership. I respected him both in and out of the office. He was good at his job. No arguing that. But there was more to it than professional competence. He was my manager for a reason, and his sometimes condescending reminders kept me in line when my morals didn't. James was my conscience.

"C'mon, why?" He pushed me for an answer. An answer I didn't have.

"Boys. Boys!" butted in Ivy. "Its too early for me to referee you two."

James glared at me, his shoulders tight, but I wasn't backing down on this. "I mean it, James. Find him something else to do." Gritting his teeth, he sat down and we finally got the meeting underway.

Time crawled at a snails pace until I gave a sharp nod of my head. "Right. If neither of you have anything pressing, we're done. I have other shit to be getting on with."

James was off without a glance my way and I watched him bounce from my office with a shake of my head.

Biting back an irritated sigh, I could already feel Ivy's weighted stare on me. "What?" My tone cut the atmosphere in half.

"Hmmhmm," she sing-songed, pursing her ruby lips.

Ivy Simcox headed up marketing for our whole European operation. A woman tougher than nails and stronger than most. She was elegant and fucking smart. Poised. Put together. Gorgeous, even on her worst days. However, when she looked at you, she really looked at you.

It was a curse as much as it's a blessing.

She rose from her seat and came around my desk and perched her ass on the edge, crossing her legs, making the skirt she wore ride up to show more of her smooth brown thighs.

I sighed and pulled my laptop toward me, flipping up the lid. "We have those things called chairs." I pointed to one.

I wasn't even sure why I wasted the words. Ivy was a law unto herself.

"Pfft." She winged up a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "Whatever is eating you this morning must be starving!?" she snarked back.

"What do you want Ivy? Because when people perch on the edge of my desk, I normally like them naked."

"Tempting..." Ivy wiggled her eyebrows. "But you're deflecting!"

Signature scowl in place. "Don't you have somewhere you need to be—someone to torture?" It was part of the deal with Ivy working here. She could have full access to the club where she could hone her Domme skills.

"No and don't waste your scowl on me, it only turns me on." She flashed those pearly-whites of hers. "So unless you want a wet-spot on your desk, I would think on this..." She paused, leaning a little closer. "The amount of money needed in doctors bills to handle the shit spinning around up there." She tapped her finger in the centre of my forehead. "Would cost thousands. Me—you get me for free, baby. And, I'm available twenty-four-seven!"

"I'm good with my shit, Ivy, and if that's all you have to share..." my question trailed off, hoping she would hop off my desk and go annoy someone else.

Those brown eyes of hers studied me before she said. "Okay. Fine. You're gonna make me say it." She huffed out. "James' crush is still alive and kicking." She cocked her head. "And you favouring USA is gonna cause friction—you get me?"

Nope.

"I think you're reaching. He got over that a long time ago." James was a trans-male, and that wasn't an issue for me. My issue, James was as vanilla as they came. He wanted the happy ever after deal and I was more the happy till I cum deal. And kink was part of that deal. James' idea of kink was dripping strawberry cream all over his body and someone licking him clean.

Ivy clucked her tongue. "Unrequited love does not die; it hides, curled up and wounded. It makes us do crazy-ass things and behave ridiculously."

She was talking crazy. "Instead of talking about me. How about we talk about your mother—spoke to her yet?" Ivy's mother had somehow got hold of my personal number and rang me every other day for an update on her daughter.

"Ugh." She pushed off my desk. "Fine... I'm off," she grouched.

~ ~

Tired, I rolled shoulders before hitting send on my finale email of the day. It was time I blew of some of this pent-up frustration downstairs. Thankfully, the rest of my day had flown by without incident. About to close the lid on my laptop—there was a thunder of raps on my door. "It's open."

In walked a very tense looking Ellis.

And fuck me... If looks could kill.

Not that stopped my eyes from getting comfortable with the sight of him. Forcing my eyes back onto my laptop, I asked. "What can I do for you, Ellis?"

"I can't fucking do this any longer." He tossed both hands up in the air, blowing out an annoyed grunt.

Slowly I lifted my eyes to his, schooling my expression. "Do what?"

"Filing," he snarled. "That man hates me." He folded his arms across his chest and I watched the muscles tense and flex beneath his shirt. He had both fire and fear in his eyes as he carried on ranting.

Again there's that pull and the tightening on my gut and my balls. I wanted to draw out the man inside. I wanted that fire.

Reclining in my chair, my fingers steepled, forefingers tapping against one another waiting until he took a breath. "We all have to start somewhere, Ellis." I lightened my tone. "Show James you can handle it. You're not a quitter."

"Handle it?" He blustered, flabbergasted by my request. "I've been handling it for three days." He held up three fingers to prove his point. "Three!" He looked up at the ceiling as if divine intervention might help. Good luck with that.

Shaking my head to clear it. "Ellis." My voice was stern, a deep tone reserved exclusively for commands and not requests.

Head dropping his eyes snapped to mine and it woke me up, pretty damn quick with my limbs locking up and my heart skipping a fucking beat. Not to mention my cock became uncomfortably hard this time.

And as if now irritated with himself his cheeks reddened and his jaw ticked with his hands balling at his sides as he glared at me.

Max had emailed me this morning, warning me of his stubborn temper. Yeah, I could clearly see it right in front of me. He wanted to fight it, but there is a part of him that wanted to listen too.

"Fine!" he tacked on, "but you gotta give me something here."

I simply arched a brow and waited

"Give me access to the club. You said you'd think about it?" He threw his hand up again. "Because trust me. If I don't have a distraction, I may file him in the nearest dumpster."

If I let him into the club, then I'd have no escape from him. "No, Ellis."

He flinched and I felt like a fucking asshole.

"What? Why not? I'm twenty-three!"

His response was so petulant, like an angry kid, that I immediately chuckled under my breath, my palms sweating wanting spank his ass raw. "A number rarely reflects maturity."

His jaw clenched so much I thought it might snap under the pressure as he stared down at me. I didn't know if I was tempting fate or simply just wanting to poke the bear.

"Fuck you, Zack," he snapped. It's the first time he's really used my name, and it sent a chill down my spine. The sound of it coming out of his mouth, past those lips and through the air that drove me to push out my chair and I was up, marching around the table.

I only had roughly two inches of height on him, but else wise we were pretty evenly matched—physically. I leaned in until our faces were only inches apart. So close I could feel his breath. Fuck. He smelled like cedar, pepper and lust, making my cock twitch... but there was something else there too. "Have you been drinking?"

He went utterly still, pupils dilated.

"So what!?" He practically growled. "I've been off the clock for hours... and fuck. I'm bored out of my tiny mind. Yeah, fucking bite me. I've had a measure of your whisky. It wasn't like you were around to ask. You're never around."

With an exhale. "No," I repeated.

He exploded and pressed a hand into my chest and gave me a hard shove. The heat and anger in his eyes burned like hot coals. I remained calm, but this seemed to incense him further.

And when he drew back to take another dig, I caught one fist and deftly flipped him around, twisting his arm behind my back to hold him still. Leaning him further over, his face touched the desk, and I had to shift so my erection didn't press against his ass and I inhaled to regain control of myself.

For a second, there was an intimacy in how I had him held, the angry heat swirling between the slight gap. I almost forgot he was off limits. All I saw was the submission that he fought hard to bury. Or maybe he honestly didn't realise it was there.  Either way, the dominant in me wanted to latch onto it, coax it out.

A groan got trapped in my throat.

What the fuck was I doing?

Counting to five in my head. "Listen to me," my lips brushed against his ear and I felt him shiver. "I'm not your enemy. I need you to take a breath and calm down, Ellis."

Ellis panted with his face still pressed against my desk. "Fine. Okay. Okay."

I let go of his wrist and stepped back to put distance between us, but my insides rioted at the loss.

Ellis fixed his appearance and stared at me, seeming to comprehend what had occurred. He ran his fingers through his mussed up hair. Dropping his hand; he shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to flip out."

Hooking my fingers behind my neck, I paced to the window, staring out as I spoke. "So you want to know more about the lifestyle?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

I must be crazy to even be considering doing anything with this man. "Come with me."

Three strides, and the door was opened, and I heard him follow me, asking. "Where we going?"

Christ. I needed a drink. I should be going in the opposite direction to him. He stirred my blood and tempted me like no other man. He gnawed at the walls I'd built up to keep everyone out. And something I didn't want to think about—

Make it stop.

Make him go away.

"To see what they made you of, Ellis Jenson."

I was most definitely going to hell.