Glass Jaw - Falling for my Alpha Boss

Rubbed raw and reeling

Max

I drop myself onto the mattress and caress the curve of my blond companion’s neck with my eyes. Damn, I have good taste. Grinning to myself, I beckon her over and have to suppress a chuckle at her eagerness.

It‘s almost cute. The eagerness, the timidest, every girl in a 5 feet radius swooning the second I enter a room. All except one. The image of my grouchy little publicist in her Minnie Mouse onesie flashes before my inner eye. That thing is heinous. But if she wore it today, that means something is wrong. She only puts it on when she‘s had a tough day.

As I watch the blonde strip off her clothes as quickly as she can, I make a mental note to knock some sense into my brother. Sure, since she‘s moved in, Teagan has been mothering him. But he sure as hell better not exploit her kindness. Weasley, little baby-faced tyrant.

„Where do you want me?” The girl’s throaty voice catches me off guard, but I manage to react in time, patting my knee with one hand. As soon as she hops into my lap, my tongue is down her throat. Preventive measures so she doesn‘t try to talk to me. She starts moaning into my mouth once my hands start roaming her body, one kneading her breasts alternatingly, the other dipping between her legs.

It takes me all but 5 minutes to have her withering and panting for me. Only problem is the spiral of thoughts, I can‘t seem to turn off. The meeting set for tomorrow is stuck in there. As is the situation with my publicist and little brother. I should try lightening Teagan‘s load a little. Half of the sh*t she does has nothing to do with what I employed her for years ago. I think we all have started to feel a little too comfortable around each other- which has started to bother these days. I can’t put my finger on it, but I have been feeling off for a while. There is this constant buzz down my spine that isn’t going away no matter what I try. Focusing on work or pleasure doesn’t do a thing. The fact that this has been the third Minni-Mouse-Onsie- -Night in the past two weeks also speaks volumes to the state of the other actual adults in the house. Teagan has been as off-kilter as I have been for weeks, no months. This kind of strain on a work relationship as co-dependent as ours, feels like the worst omen. Never good.

„Are you ready, big boy?” Right… there was someone else in the room with me. Nope. Couldn‘t be further from ready, even if I tried.

„Maybe if you give me a hand, gorgeous?” The grin does it, as always…

The next minute, I regret the decision, though. Might she have looked like a delicate little thing in that sequent dress, and with the way her shiny hair bounced, there is nothing delicate about her grip on my d*ck. She either plans on breaking it or rubbing the skin clean off.

„Easy, gorgeous… Take your time.”

„O-okay.” Her voice sounds so timid all of a sudden that my gaze travels up to her face from the spot between her t*ts I had decided on for tonight. And once my eyes leave my junk for the first time in a hot minute, I see her’s are as big as saucers, and her lips are quivering.

Oh no. Next, her hands start shaking, and a tiny noise leaves her—a squeak. Women don’t squeak when they are with me. Moan, groan, mewl, squeal… sure. But squeak? Na, never. Goddess, and now tears start pooling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey…what’s wrong, gorgeous?” The sniffle that follows is turning my stomach. And had my d*ck felt less than enthusiastic about my goals for tonight before, it’s now trying to shrivel and tuck into itself.

Tears do not affect me… except for maybe the tiny pit of anger forming in my stomach. My mom used to cry a lot. She wasn’t a sad or depressed person, the total opposite. A loved and feared socialite with more money than any person could ever spend, a husband and sons who adored her, and a teenage lover who f*cked her whenever she wanted. There was no reason.

She just liked the attention she got when she started to sniffle, let out a shuddering breath, and made her voice crack when asking for tissues. The performance of a lifetime… every single time it happened. And it got to me… every single time it happened. It took me years to understand she used her tears to manipulate me. Especially me. Her ‘favorite boy,’ her piece de resistance. The one that could get her everything she ever wanted from the man who fathered me without knowing about it. She made sure I knew him, though… and that I played along no matter how sick it made me feel. Her tears always took care of the last piece of defense I put up. Which is probably why my first instinct is to roll my eyes and shove the girl off me.

I don’t do that, of course. Instead, I listen to her sobbed tale of falling for her best friend’s brother and how unfair it is that when she tried to clear her mind with ‘someone’ like me, it didn’t work out for her, and she couldn’t get herself to lose her virginity to me.

“I mean… look at you. You’re sooooo hot, and I just… you do nothing for me.” The blonde shrugs and purses her lips a little. “I thought it would be easier with a f*ckboy like you, you know? Someone who never actually cares and sleeps with whoever is available next.”

“Wow, you have such a high opinion of me, gorgeous.” And for the first time tonight, I don’t sound playful. I can hear that my voice has lost even the last bit of cheek or happiness. No f*cking idea why this insulted me so much. Maybe because me not caring is just a stupid thing to say. I do care… for however many hours they are in my bed. What more do they expect from me? I sure don’t put ideas of something serious in anyone’s head. But it bothers me that she blankly tried to use me. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to get my rocks off tonight and didn’t plan on mating and marrying her after. Two consenting adults having fun, caring about the other person’s wellbeing in the setting of finding some pleasure, and getting that human contact that we all crave from time to time is different from what she is talking about, though.

She planned to just do whatever necessary to get me to sleep with her. Even if I have a lot of different partners who change basically every week, my intentions when I’m actually with them are focused on them and me and what they need so I can feel satisfied that I have given them a great time and gotten laid.

Her phrasing it this way just hurries me along to put my shirt back on.

“Max, I… You know what everyone is saying about you, right?”

“Yep.”

“So you can hardly blame me for trying to get this over with.”

“No, gorgeous. You’re right, I can’t.” Her triumphant smile falters the second I push the hand back down, she tried to lay against my chest. “But I can blame you for not telling me up front and making this awkward and weird.”

“Wh-What? I just-

“I think it’s best if you go. Maybe try talking to your crush before you try to get another poor dude to sleep with you without putting the cards on the table.”

“As if this would have meant anything to you!” She’s angry now.

“That’s not what this is about. I don’t care how meaningful you thought this would have been for me.” I take a step further away from her and position myself at the door to get her out quicker. “But what I do care about is at least partial honesty. I don’t sleep with girls who are cheating on their partner with me, and I don’t do shady intentions and weird mind games. Come home with me, f*ck, but don’t tell me your life’s story, and don’t hide the fact you wanted me to be a big middle finger to the guy who never really sees you. Tell me that’s what you want to do, and I might be down to consider it. Not like this, though.” My hand is on the door handle already.

“And you’re wrong. It would have meant spending a great night having some good s*x with a girl I thought was cute.”

Her nostrils flare as she collects her dress from the floor. “That’s just bullsh*t.”

“If you think so, gorgeous.”

“Stop calling me that.” Fuming, her gaze turns on me while she shimmies back into the sequent fabric. Hmmm, shame, she had nice t*ts.

“Ok.”

If looks could kill, I guess she would have skinned me alive and burned me at the stake by now. Mumbling insults to herself, she stomps down the stairs in front of me and huffs and puffs like the big dire Wolf in the fairytale when I give her a soft push out the door when her Uber is only a minute away.

Once I make my way up the stairs again, a head of messy black hair peeks out of a door to my left.

“Is everything okay?” My little brother looks like he’s been staying up way too late playing one of his stupid games under the covers after Teagan told him to shut the lights off.

“All good, big man. Go back to sleep.”

“Alright…” Seth slowly closes the door before I can hear the soft patter of his steps returning to his bed.

“That was a first.” I whirl around.

“F*ck’s sake, Pat. You can’t scare me like that.”

The childish devil grins at me wildly. “Sorry, always forget that you’re almost geriatric.”

“I’m 38.”

“Like I said.” Cackling, he ducks, so I miss him in my attempt to give him a soft knock to the head. It’s been way too long since this dude got a good noggie. I feel it in my bones.

But there are more urgent things to talk about with my teenage brother. “Pat…” He looks up at me when I call his name, his dark eyes irritatingly like mine. “Dial back the asking Teagan for help, please. If there is anything you need assistance with, school work or other stuff… come to me. I could do it, or we can hire you a tutor, but—

“She OFFERED to help.” His voice is unusually sharp.

“Oh, I know she probably did. But I’m asking you not to take her help the next time that happens. She’s been under a lot of pressure, and I don’t want you adding even more to her plate.”

“Right, that’s your job.” And Pat’s door closes in my face before I can even get another word out. I rub my hand down my face. Who said having teenage girls was nerve-wracking? This dude easily takes on any hormonal Becky or Ashley when it comes to his moodiness and short fuse.

Shaking my head, I softly close the door to my room. Time to stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night because the last good night of sleep I got was months ago.

......................

I feel the lack of rest the next day when my grumpy, tired a** is trying to figure out why the f*ck he can’t seem to wrap his hands the right way. I’ve been trying to finish the prep for my first workout of the day for minutes and still haven’t gotten it right.

In fact, I have taken so long that Teagan has made her way over to the gym with her briefcase full of paperwork to make sure I finish on time and we’re not late for our appointment.

“You know you take all the fun out of my day, Teags?”

“Grow up, Cummings.”

Now she’s sitting ringside, her brows scrunched up as she reads over some performance report… and I’m sure it’s not the first time she took a look at those numbers. But my publicist is just thorough like that. Actually, I have no idea WHAT position she doesn’t hold at the moment. So, calling Teagan my publicist is the grossest understatement of the century. She’s my household manager, babysits my younger brothers and has for years, works on my public profile, basically is the reason the pack is running as smoothly, because she manages all my calendars… the list goes on.

This is her newest obsession: Broadening the profile of companies the pack invests in/ buys into. Teagan spent hours, if not days, chewing my ear off about possibilities for better investing the funds my old man secured and that I brought in with all the wins over the years of my professional career. Now, these morning boxing sessions are the only thing left of my old life. That and… My eyes rest on my publicist again. I vividly remember the first time we met.

I wasn’t expecting her. I’d heard all about the Alpha of Gladstone and his sons, the tragedy that befell his family. But somehow, his daughter was never really spoken about. So when a T. Hurst applied for the position, I was intrigued and invited them for an interview. Although I was convinced, I’d be meeting with one of her brothers. Never have… not one of her siblings has come to visit. She never introduced me to her parents. The picture of professionalism. Which is fine by me.

“Dude, I’m telling you, I know what I’m doing.” I’m so easily distracted today that the man puffing out his chest in the ring beside me catches my attention. He’s one of the newest pack members. I remember swearing him in a couple of days ago while Teagan was on her annual trip to see her parents.

“OK… if you’re sure.” His partner doesn’t seem convinced, and when the peacock gets ready for his first kick, I can see why. Just from this one move, I could tell him about six things that I would improve. But this is not my problem. I need to get my workout in and finish on time, so I don’t have my publicist ready to pounce on me.

So, I ignore the two guys and focus on my sparing partner. And when the little bit of sweat is finally running down my temple, I have already forgotten all about them and how sh*tty my night was. Just on the way to pick up my water bottle and check the clock on the wall for the time, I see Teagan’s knees bop and her brows scrunched to a maximum. She’s trying hard, but she can’t hide how irritated she is by the two dudes in the next ring over, who are still butchering any and all moves.

“You have to turn, and your knee needs to be loose. Do you feel me?” The peacock prepares to demonstrate a move when my publicist’s sharp voice cuts the air.

“Wrong. Please stop this. You guys are going to hurt each other.” She hasn’t even looked up from the stack of papers on her lap, but I see the vein on her temple pulsing a little. Peak irritation… and I smirk to myself for a minute. Hmmm, interesting. It seems like someone other than me is riling her up today.

“Oh, yeah?” The dude looks down at Teagan, still ignoring him, and sneers. “You think you know better?”

“I’m sure I do.”

He and his friend cackle, and it’s the first time my publicist is looking up. “You’re funny, little lady.” He chuckles, rubbing a hand over his buzzed blond hair. “Go back to your papers, we know what we’re doing.”

“You don’t.” And now he’s getting angry.

“So what? You wanna give us a demonstration?”

“Sure.”

Both of them are too perplexed to stop her when she takes off her heels, enters the ring, and takes her place across from them.

“You were practicing a spinning backkick, right?” One of the guys nods and has barely enough time to raise his hands before Teagan takes a step across with her leading foot, spins, and kicks him in the ribs hard.

“Ouf…”

“See? You want to keep your knee as tight as possible. And aim for the ribs. Not the gut.” She demonstrates it swiftly again, the blonde’s jaw slightly slack. “Helps if you step slightly across with your leading foot.”

“I-

“The other one you tried to do was a spinning hook kick?” No answer, and I’m close to laughing out loud. It took three months of Teagan sitting on sweaty gym mats watching me fight with her button nose scrunched up in disgust… three months before she came to me and said: ‘Teach me. Might make it less boring.’ And I will definitely take credit for her form and how GOOD she has become over the last five years.

She is. Good, I mean. Demonstrated as she spins, hooks her leg, and has Blondie take a step back to avoid being kicked in the chin.

“What the f*ck! You almost-

“You wanna hook your leg as early as possible.” She shows them again. “The longer you leave it straight, the easier it will be for your opponent to block it or at least see what you plan to do.”

Teagan demonstrates how you have to bring in your elbows when you spin, and I delight in the blonde dude’s deepening tomato shade while the other seems mesmerized by my publicist.

When she jumps out of the ring and puts her shoes back on, I saunter over to her and grin when she looks up at me.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” Teagan snorts, plugging her briefcase off the bench. But I’m not done yet. I like the light blush on her cheeks.

‘She’s pretty, right?’

I push my wolf back. Tegan is the last woman he should make those remarks about. And I have no idea why he did just now. That was never a thing for the last five years and definitely won’t be moving forward.

So I grin even wider, elbowing her as we leave the gym. “Looks like you’ve added a new member to your fan club.” I waggle my brows.

Her blue eyes sear into me, and I can’t help but smile when one of her eyebrows hikes up. “Oh yeah?”

“For sure.”

“I’ll get that thing closed down.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “Don’t. You’ll undo all of Patrick’s hard work.” I duck away fast enough to evade the hard elbow coming to my ribs.

“Your brother doesn’t have a crush on me!”

“You stay in your delusion, Teags!” I skip ahead of her. “Race me to the car. Last to get there is a delulu girl!” Sprinting, I gain a tremendous head start.

“Childish, Cummings. CHILDISH!”