Dane

by Webster, K

Fuck.

  Only I could manage to screw up something this bad. My dad is going to shit himself when he finds out I’m sleeping with Dane Alexander. Managing partner, and essentially my dad’s boss. My boss.

  I remove my hand from Dane’s impressive cock and take a step back. So often, I’m impulsive and go with what feels right. Hardly ever do I consider the ripple effects of my actions.

  Until now.

  If I mess up this job, I’ll be messing up my father’s too. My sister Christina and my mother will be impacted if this all blows up. Pulling off my glasses, I scrub my palm down my face before placing them back on my nose. Dane’s jaw is clenched, the muscles there ticking, as his cock strains against his slacks. His hands are fisted and he stares intently at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I groan. “That was out of line.”

  Dane’s graphite-colored eyes narrow. Over the weekend, I’d marveled at how gray his penetrating stare was. Like a thunderstorm racing across the sky, chasing off any hints of dark blue. When he smiles, though, the storm clears and they seem more blue than gray.

  He’s not smiling now.

  In fact, he’s still pissed.

  “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I mutter. “I’m just here to do my job. I told you I’m more of a ‘keep it casual’ kind of guy.” The words are true but they don’t feel right on my tongue. I’ve sought out solace in another’s hot flesh beneath the sheets more often than I’d like to admit. This past weekend was the first time I considered that maybe what I’d been searching for was right in front of me.

  I knew that shit was too good to be true.

  “I have some cases to work on before court today, but I think we should still take that lunch. Talk a little more about this,” he says, finally. His gaze has softened and he doesn’t look like he wants to kill me. Progress.

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

  He gives me a nod. “Go see HR, and then make sure your dad settles you in at your office. Your assistant is named Susan. She takes care of Dorian Rowe too.”

  I turn away and start toward the door when he calls out, stopping me once more.

  “I like the glasses, Nick.”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “Bye, Dane.”

  As soon as the door closes behind me, I walk over to HR after some nice people help me along the way. After an hour of filling out paperwork and the woman droning on about the firm’s policies, my dad knocks on the door, interrupting us. For once, I’m happy to see him. My dad—Chandler Stratton—was always someone I wanted to be. That is, until I turned thirteen, and I’d walked in on him kissing our neighbor. They played it off but then later that night, he and my mom fought. Things were thrown. Mom sobbed hysterically. Dad apologized. But at that moment, a bitter seed was planted in my belly. It’s grown wildly ever since.

  My dad is a cheating dick who holds everyone up to impossible standards, unapologetically so. Mom, I’ve learned, is weak. She turns a blind eye to every one of his affairs, and last year, I learned she was having one of her own. The only reason they stay married, I’m convinced, is because they don’t want the embarrassment of being separated, especially for Christina. She’s a senior in high school and heavily involved in everything. My parents, albeit selfish people, have unselfishly stayed together for her benefit.

  “This being late stuff has to stop, Nick,” Dad says, once we’re out of earshot of HR.

  “I was late once,” I grumble.

  “Your first day. It made me look bad in front of Dane,” he complains.

  I don’t mention Dane was the reason I was late. That sure as fuck isn’t happening. I’m not giving Dad any ammunition as far as that goes. We’ve gone round and round about my sexual orientation. I’m too fucking tired to do that shit today, and then load on top of that how I screwed his boss…not happening.

  “Sorry.”

  He shoots me a disappointed look before letting his face morph into the handsome grin that lures in every female in the vicinity. “Dorian,” he says into the office. “Meet my son, Nicholas Stratton.”

  I step through the door and my eyes land on a pretty blonde woman. All behind her desk on the credenza are family pictures. She appears to be married to a man around the same age as Dane. A pang of jealousy slices through me. It seems everyone has a happy family. Except me. Dad continually makes sure of that.

  “Nice to meet you, Nicholas,” she says as she stands, making her way over to me.

  I shake her hand. “Nick. Call me Nick.”

  “Chandler’s son, huh?” Her brow lifts and I see the look in her eyes. Trying to gauge whether or not I’m just like him, I’m sure.

  “Yep,” I grit out, forcing a smile.

  The wrinkles in her brow smooth out. “I’m sorry,” she teases.

  Dad laughs. “Nah, kid’s more like his mom. A little soft, but a couple months in this job, he’ll harden up.”

  Dorian rolls her eyes at him, making me instantly like her. “Not everyone around here is hard and we do just fine.”

  Still chuckling, Dad walks closer and clutches her shoulder. “Dorian here is married to a judge. You’ll want to get in good with her.” He winks at me in that devious way of his. Like, get into her pants and you’re golden.

  Gritting my teeth, I ignore my father. She steps back, out of his reach, and shakes her head. “Judge Rowe. I’m sure you’ll see him around in court. He’s a hardass who has a soft spot for kids.” She smiles as she regards the many frames. In one, she’s holding a baby and the others, there are two young women around my age or so. “So, you’ll be officing beside me? Have you met Dane yet?”

  We met, and then an hour later, I had his dick in my mouth. I suppose you could say we’ve met.

  “I have.” I force a smile.

  “Dane’s the best thing about this place,” she says, grinning. “He’s my husband’s best friend.”

  Dad faux pouts. “I thought I was the best thing about this place.”

  God, Dad’s flirting is so fucking pathetic. I’ve never witnessed it in his environment before. Usually, I just see the results of said flirting when he’s sneaking one out of the house.

  Dorian laughs at him. “Go away, Stratton. Your cologne is giving me a headache.”

  He grunts, but motions for me to follow him.

  “Nice to meet you,” I tell her as we exit.

  “My pleasure,” she says, her tone once again friendly for me.

  At least I know she’s immune to my dad’s sick charm.

  Dad shows me around to a few more people, including my assistant with a giant pair of tits and the biggest ‘fuck me’ lips I’ve ever seen, before he leaves me be in my office. Susan aka Tits & Lips has come into my office no less than fifteen times to bend over the front of my desk to hand me files.

  I should put her out of her misery and tell her I’m gay, but then, I don’t know how that would spread through the office. And, if anything, I’m not ready to divulge that to a building full of suits. Not to mention, I can’t have Dad breathing down the back of my neck, warning me to stay away from Dane.

  Dane is my problem to deal with.

  I pick through a few files but settle on the one that is most time-sensitive. Last semester, in college, I interned at a firm not far from here. When college ended, though, Dad made sure to snag me a better job than the other firm. This one pays a helluva lot more.

  Malachi and Xavier Bryant. Seven and five years old. Multiple child abuse accounts stemming from damn near birth. First, a lot of the shit attached to their names was because of their mother, Ellen. Heroine-addict who neglected her kids. One report shows they were left in the car outside an apartment building overnight. In between her neglect charges were hospitalizations of both her and the kids from her husband, Jayson. Jayson went on to kill her, after beating the shit out of her one too many times when the kids were just five and three. He spent the next year in prison before he was stabbed to death in an inmate fight. The kids, w
ho had been staying with foster families, were now official wards of the state.

  “What the fuck,” I grumble, as I flip through some gruesome pictures that are dated October of this year. Both kids have matching black eyes and the older boy has a split lip. So fucking sad. I read on to learn that there’s a case against the most recent foster home, where the woman, Juanita Aikens, physically abused not only these two, but a couple others, including a seventeen-year-old girl named Jenna and a two-year-old girl named Cora. Enzo Tauber is the social worker on not only the boys’ case but also each one of the girls.

  I knew from my internship that some cases would be sad. I just didn’t expect to get one right out of the gate. My phone buzzes and I glance at the clock on my old-ass computer. Lunchtime.

  Dane: I’m back from court. The black Porsche Cayenne double parked out front is mine. Move your ass, Stratton.

  All depressing thoughts about my case bleed away as I rise from my chair and stand. I shouldn’t be going off to lunch with my boss, considering his dick was in my ass just this morning, but because his dick was in my ass has me eager to see him. So much for staying away.

  Susan purses her lips at me as I leave in a way surely meant to be seductive but comes off as desperate and fish-like. I wave to her and grumble out that I’m headed to lunch. My dad isn’t in his office, thank fuck.

  It isn’t until I’m out of the office and being pelted by sleet that I let out a relieved breath. The air clouds white around my face and a shiver runs through me. I knew it was most likely going to snow, and yet I’d been so on fire from my weekend with Dane that I opted for no coat. I’m kind of wishing I’d grabbed it after all. I rush over to the sleek Porsche with black wheels and dark tinted windows. When I open the passenger side door, his scent rushes out, enveloping me. Warms me straight to my dick.

  “Hey,” I grunt out as I climb inside and shut the door behind me. It’s hot in the vehicle and my glasses fog up. I yank them off and turn my attention toward Dane.

  Fuck, he’s hot.

  His suit is hidden beneath a long, black dress coat and he wears black leather gloves. The power of his masculine fingers strains against the material. My cock twitches with a fantasy of one of those gloved hands around my throat as he fucks me in his backseat.

  “Where’s your coat?” he demands, his brow hitching up.

  “I was hot this morning.” I shrug, but pin him with a firm stare.

  A smug grin tugs on his lips at one side, making me ache to fucking kiss him again. “Maybe I’ll have to warm you up again.”

  My dick, eager for his suggestion, is hard and fully erect in my slacks. But, despite its willingness to play, I can’t. It’s not that I’m afraid for people to find out I’m sleeping with the managing partner, it’s what happens when I fuck it up.

  I will fuck it up.

  I always do.

  There’s a reason why I don’t do relationships. Every one I’ve attempted has failed miserably. The guy gets attached and I become detached. It’s like, the more into me they are, the more I want to bail. It will happen with Dane and me. He’s already admitted he’s not a fuck-and-run type of guy.

  Well, he fucked the wrong guy—because I run, dammit.

  “Everything okay?” he asks as he pulls onto the road.

  My glasses have lost their fog, so I slide them back on and give him a clipped nod. “Just overwhelmed by first day shit. Nothing I can’t handle though.”

  “Susan said you had the Golden versus Elliot case. It’s one of the ones I passed off to you. If you need assistance, let me know.”

  Guilt scratches at my insides. Why does he have to be so fucking nice? It makes pushing him away that much harder.

  “Seems easy enough. We dealt with civil cases like that all the time at Becker, Goins, and Stiller. That’s where I interned at,” I say lamely. Apparently, I can fuck this guy with no problems but carrying on a normal conversation has me flustered.

  “Good firm,” he says, and then grins my way. “Ours is better. Have you met Miller yet?”

  “Dad never took me to the other side of the office, and then I dove straight into work. Is he an attorney too?”

  He laughs. “No, he’s a motherfucking shark. Biggest asshole on the damn planet since his wife left him. But he’s a good guy. If you ever need any case help, come to me or Miller. Your dad…” He trails off. “No offense, but there are better lawyers at our firm who can help.”

  I smirk. “None taken. Don’t tell Dad that, though. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s God’s gift to the justice system.” I grow serious for a moment. “How familiar are you with the Bryant case?”

  He winces and frowns. “The abused kids?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve been briefed on it but that’s really Miller’s expertise.”

  “Who does that to their kids?” I ask, my voice hollow. “Who does that to kids in general?”

  “Sick fucks,” he grunts. “I see a lot of that shit with my divorce cases where custody battles ensue. There are a lot of assholes who hurt kids out there. Not just physically, but emotionally too.”

  My mind drifts to when I was thirteen. The way my dad had his hands all over Fawna from next door. I’d stared, horrified that it was some pretty woman who wasn’t my mother. And the slew of insults, mainly calling me a prying sonofabitch, haunt me to this day. If anyone knows about parents emotionally fucking up their kids, it’s me. My dad started that day and has gotten a million times worse over the years. I don’t even want to think about the day I’d told him I was gay. Absently, I rub my jaw that still aches from time to time, and that’s been eight years now.

  “Still in the mood for burgers?” Dane grunts as we park in front of a hole-in-the-wall dive.

  “Yep.”

  “Hope you’re hungry for a pretty side of dick,” he says with a wicked grin.

  I gape at him, confused by his words.

  “Miller is joining us for lunch. Don’t let him dazzle you with his good looks. He’s the grumpiest motherfucker I know.” He chuckles. “And I know a lot of grumpy motherfuckers.”

  Nick follows silently behind me into the dark restaurant that reeks of stale cigarette smoke and onions. The smell clings to your clothes and I’ll have to have my coat dry cleaned, but it’s worth it for the burgers. Best in this damn town.

  I steal a glance over my shoulder at Nick. His brows are furled as he broods. I’m realizing he had no idea who I was when he invited me to his room this weekend and it’s majorly fucking with his head. As much as it’s a bad idea to want him because of our positions, I can’t help the fact that he makes my dick hard, just from looking at him. He looks handsome as hell in those glasses of his. His red eyes are from lack of sleep and not from getting high, unfortunately. If it wasn’t a work day and we were anywhere but here, I’d tell him to smoke a blunt and chill the fuck out. I’m learning quickly there are two Nicks. The one from this weekend—the real one—and this closed off version he reserves for everyone else.

  Someone whistles from the back, stealing my attention, and I see August snapping his fingers at us from a high-backed booth. Lunch with two broody assholes. Awesome. I slide into the booth across from August and scoot over to allow room for Nick. He sits beside me, stiff and rippling with intensity.

  “Nick, meet my asshole friend, August Miller. Miller, meet Nick Stratton,” I introduce.

  August’s green eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the man beside me. Neither man offers the other his hand, instead nodding. I guess it’ll be one of those lunches where I do all the damn talking.

  “Chandler’s son?” August finally asks, his dark brown eyebrow lifting. He hates Chandler. But August hates everyone, so that’s nothing new.

  “Yep,” Nick grits out.

  August’s eyes sear into mine and they flicker much like a shark’s would in bloody water. Hungry for a bite. He wants to nibble and pick at this new fish in our water because that’s what he does. Not because he’s attracted to him,
but because he wants to watch him squirm. Sadistic bastard. It’s what makes him a valuable attorney in the courtroom. Unfortunately, he’ll have to stick with eating a goddamned burger. Nick’s mine to bite.

  I give August a slight shake to the head—meaning, don’t fuck with him. August is one of the few people who knows of my past curiosity of men. I’d rambled that tidbit of information one day over one too many drinks as I bitched about Janice. I’m sure he can interpret the silent claim I’m staking over Nick.

  His lips twitch on one side. I’ve long admired this handsome-as-shit friend of mine, but that’s all. He was straight as an arrow. I was married. It wasn’t anything worth pursuing. Now that I have Nick beside me, I realize I much prefer Nick’s lips. With his thigh brushing against mine, jolts of need are surging through me. August, no matter how fucking hot, never invoked such a response from me. Hell, Janice never did either.

  “Hmmm,” is all August says after a moment. “You going to Felix’s benefit party Friday?”

  I groan. We all fucking hate Felix Mullins, but sometimes you do shit you don’t want to do, like office Christmas parties and women and political ass kissing. Felix is a district attorney campaigning for senator. It’s always good to have a public official up your sleeve in case you ever need any favors. In my line of work, you always need favors. “Do we have to?”

  August smirks. “We don’t, but every other asshole in the city will be there. Might be kind of obvious if we don’t show up.”

  We’re interrupted by an older woman who takes our order. Nick is unusually quiet so I nudge him with my shoulder. “Want to come with us?”

  He turns and our faces are too close. So close, I could easily lean forward and kiss his plump lips. Just thinking about them has my eyes dropping their way.

  “Not really,” Nick grumbles. “Unless I have to.”

  I bite back a laugh. His smartass remark is one I remember from this weekend and am eager to see more of it. “You have to. I’m the boss. I make the rules.”

  His gaze darkens, but then he pulls his stare away to excuse himself to the restroom. When I look at August, he’s actually grinning. Like a wily coyote, but still smiling. Freaky bastard.