Glass Jaw - Falling for my Alpha Boss

Rubbed raw and realing

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.