Trained By The Boss

by Charlotte Storm

  Griffin offers to send a car to pick me up, bring me to his house. I decline. I’m in no shape to face Geo, and Lily said she’d give me a ride, show me where my storage unit is located.

  After grabbing some of my things, I settle into the hotel room and call Griffin like he asked me to do.

  “You’re not living in a fucking hotel, Aiden.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear, Griffin’s voice piercing through the speaker.

  “Hello to you, too, sir.” It’s impossible to keep the snark from my tone. I shouldn’t goad him, not when he’s so uptight. But ever since I got my ass kicked by my father, things have changed.

  I’ve changed.

  And, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m hoping he makes me pay for it.

  “I have a condo in a high rise downtown. I keep it for clients, and for when I work late. It’s lightly furnished, so it has room for your things. You’re staying there.”

  “Is that a command, sir? Or are you asking me?”

  Griffin sighs, deep and long. I can picture him running his hands through his hair, something he’s done a lot more lately, ever since the incident.

  “Yes. No.” Pause. “I don’t fucking know.”

  For a man who’s always in charge, always has his shit together, witnessing him fall apart, even if it’s just a little, is unsettling. Can he really be that affected by what happened?

  I open my mouth to ask him when he says, “Your father’s hearing was today.”

  My heart freezes, the blood in my veins running cold.

  “Because it was a family matter, his first offence, and because he knew someone at the courthouse, he got off with probation and community service.”

  The way he says it is like some revelation. It isn’t. With as many people as my parents know, I’m surprised his punishment was as harsh as it was.

  “Not one fucking day in jail. Not one.” The phone jostles, and I wonder how hard he’s gripping it. “A slap on the wrist for putting his own son in the hospital.”

  Griffin huffs into the phone. I swear I can hear him pacing.

  “It isn’t fucking right, Aiden. What he did to you, the mess I made you walk into, it isn’t right.”

  A piece of the puzzle that is Griffin Hart suddenly clicks into place, the picture a tiny bit clearer.

  “I’ve spoken to my personal attorney. Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do. Legally. But I know a few people who—”

  “This isn’t your fault,” I say. The words hang in the air, louder in the silence between us.

  Nothing. Not even the sound of him breathing.

  “This isn’t your fault,” I say again, to drive home that truth.

  I’ve wondered why Griffin has been different, more on edge, powder-keg touchy. He blames himself, thinks he caused what happened. He didn’t.

  “My entire life has been planned out for me,” I say, hoping like hell he’s listening. “I’ve been told where to go to school, what to wear and eat, who to hang out with, who to marry, and even who I was going to be. My. Entire. Fucking. Life.”

  I touch my ribs where my father kicked me, lick the mostly-healed cut on my lip from where he smashed my face into the pavement.

  “Even if there was no you, no denial about my sexuality, no cuff bracelet, or commands, or any other shit, it was past time I stood up to my father. I needed to do this. Had to claim what little life was actually mine, and run with it. Yes, you were the catalyst. You pushed me, made me see I could want more. Deserve more. This isn’t your fault, Griffin. This isn’t your fault, and it’s every bit your fault, and I fucking love you for it. For pushing me, for making me grow, for making me admit who and what I want. Who and what I am.”

  Now I’m the one breathing hard. I just told my boss, my dom, that I love him. It’s either the stupidest thing I’ve done all day, or the best.

  “Say something,” I beg when too many uncomfortable moments pass in silence. “Please, sir.”

  “I’m coming to see you. Give me your room number, and give me some time to wrap up some business here. I’ll bring dinner. We’ll talk.”

  We’ll. Talk.

  Those words choke me, make me want to take back everything I just said. I can’t lose him. Not because I’m fucked if I don’t have a job, which I am, but because I don’t think my heart can take the beating.

  “Wait, sir—”

  “Tonight, Mr. Montgomery.”

  The line goes dead.

  Chapter 12

  I pace around my hotel room, do jumping jacks until my ribs hurt and I can’t breathe, and bite the nail on my thumb until it bleeds.

  Waiting for whatever’s about to happen between me and my boss is torture. And not the good kind from him I’m used to.

  A knock sounds at the door. My heart bangs against my chest just as hard.

  I touch the cuff on my wrist, run a hand through my hair, adjust the t-shirt and shorts I’m wearing to look as put together as I can.

  What’s that saying? Fake it ‘til you make it? Me being put together will take an Oscar-worthy performance.

  I open the door, step to the side, head down, stance perfect, just how Griffin taught me. I won’t break pose until he gives me permission.

  “Aiden,” he says, voice low. Soft. Not at all like the man in control I’m used to. “Look at me.”

  I do as he says, movements precise. I’m determined to show him how obedient I can be. That I want this, and my feelings for him don’t have to get in the way. Don’t have to destroy what we have.

  My eyes focus on my boss standing outside my hotel room door. And holy fuck me. In a light sweater and casual but crisp slacks, he still looks like a million bucks. Several hundred million, actually.

  His sharp eyes soften as they take me in, linger on the still healing bruises and abrasions. “May I come in?” he asks. Asks.

  Shit. This isn’t going to be good.

  “You can do anything you want, sir,” I answer, desperately trying to hold on to the sand of our sub-dom relationship slipping through my fingers.

  He pushes past me, closes the door, sets down his leather bag and the paper sack of food on the dresser. The scent of greasy fries and hamburgers fills the small room—two queen beds, a small table, chair, and couch the only other occupants.

  With his back to me, gaze set out the window with a view of the ocean, Griffin says, “Did you mean what you said on the phone?”

  “Do you mean when I said what happened wasn’t your fault?” I hedge, not ready to admit to the other thing just yet. “Yes. I meant that. What happened with my parents wasn’t your fault.”

  “That’s not what I was referring to, and you know it. Do you love me, Mr. Montgomery?”

  Classic Griffin Hart. Right to the damn point. The least I can do is give him the same courtesy.

  “Not if it’ll cost me everything I have with you, sir.”

  Griffin huffs out a breath, his shoulders slumping forward. When he finally turns to face me, I think he might yell at me. He looks pissed, and I don’t know what I’ve done, what I can do to calm him down.

  With the movements of a man with purpose, he crosses the room, closes the distance between us. I step back until I hit the wall. He keeps coming.

  Blood swishes in my ears like river rapids when he presses the entire length of his body against mine. He’s taller than I am, and the fact I’m cowering makes him even taller.

  My desire for him burns so hot I could catch fire, but the fear of losing him is glacier. Both sensations fight to take hold when he grabs my wrist. The one with the cuff.

  With slow, deliberate intent, Griffin removes the band, tosses it on the ground. His stare challenges me to rebuke the action. Or maybe that’s not the challenge. For as long as I’ve known him, experienced his myriad moods, I can’t read him right now.

  “I don’t want to play games,” he says, his lips inches from mine. His hot breath melting the icy fear working its way into every cell. “Right here, right
now, in this room, we are equals. I don’t command you. I won’t demand anything but honesty. And I promise to give it in return.”

  His hips press against mine, the hard bulge in his pants unmistakable.

  I’m already hard. Have been since I opened the door, first put my eyes on him. That’s what he does to me. But now, with him so close, us touching, him asking me to be myself, my need for him borders on painful.

  I force my lips to move, mouth to work. “Okay.”

  “Are you in love with me?”

  I stare into his deep brown eyes. Eyes that have trained me, watched me become the man I am. A man who, even if it costs me everything, owes him the truth.

  “Yes.”

  Griffin’s lips crash against mine. One hand grabs my hip, the other the back of my neck.

  Stunned, all I can do is kiss him back, hard, desperate, the same way I feel.

  Before my body has a chance to respond, and my hands to do a bit of roaming of their own, Griffin pulls away.

  We’re both breathing hard when he rests his forehead against mine.

  “It’s a bad idea, you falling for me.” He nips at my lower lip with his teeth.

  “It was a bad idea to train with you, too. Guess I’m terrible at making decisions. While I’m on a roll, I want to make another one. Be my first.”

  Griffin’s body freezes, not even one muscle twitch. “Aiden, I—”

  “It should be you,” I cut him off. “It’s yours. It’s always been yours. No matter what...I mean, even if we don’t—you know, after tonight, if this ends, I want to remember losing my virginity to you. Please, Griffin. Mr. Hart. Sir. After living a life full of regrets, don’t make me have one more.”

  When Griffin puts his lips on mine, I know he’s making me a promise. A promise that giving myself to him is one regret I won’t have.

  With our tongues intertwined, Griffin leads me to the bed. When we fall, his weight pushes into me in all the right places. Unfortunately, also in the wrong places.

  Bruised ribs scream for relief, my jaw begging not to be worked so hard. Griffin’s reaction is immediate. Using his arms, he pushes off me, his kisses turning light.

  “I’m sorry.” He tries to get up.

  I grab a fistful of his sweater, pull him back down on top of me, deepen our kiss.

  “I’m the one who’ll be sorry if you stop.” I bite his earlobe, lick the side of his neck then show him mine, my sign of submission.

  He bites my flesh, licks away the ache. “I don’t want to hurt you, Aiden. Don’t want to be too rough.”

  “You forget.” I slide my hand down his chest, across his stomach, underneath the band of his slacks, cup him through his underwear. “You trained me to withstand copious amounts of abuse and pain. What good is all that training if we don’t use it?”

  I squeeze his shaft, pump up and down a few times. He grinds into me, my ribs warning me about the pressure. I grit my teeth, relish in both how amazing and torturous it feels to have my boss on top of me, about to make me his in the only way that matters.

  This time, when he pushes off of me, I let him. Griffin takes his time undressing me, running his hands across my body, worshipping me in a way I never knew I wanted until him. He kisses away the hurt where I’ve been bruised and cut, nips on the flesh that’s unblemished.

  I writhe, wanting him to hurry up and take me, wanting him to take every moment of his time. As pieces of my clothes fall to the floor, the pieces that make up me fall together. We fit perfectly. His body, mine. His need to control, my need to be taken.

  “I have to get you ready,” he says, breaking our kiss.

  The look on his face is one of concern, and I think I know why.

  Rolling off the bed, I stand and head to the dresser. I open the top drawer, pull out a small bottle of lubricant.

  “Here.” I toss it to him.

  He cocks an eyebrow, and it makes me want to fuck him more.

  “What?” I shrug like I’m completely innocent. “You taught me to always be prepared, so I bought that a while back just in case.”

  He crooks his finger, beckoning me to him. “Come,” he commands.

  “God, I hope you let me,” I mutter, but he hears and chuckles.

  When I crawl back onto the bed, he smacks my ass. I jump then moan when he presses his hard cock along my crack.

  “Do you feel how hard I am?” he asks, presses into me more.

  “Yeah,” I answer, breathless, excited, and terrified.

  “I can’t wait to fuck you, Aiden. To claim your virgin ass, make you mine. Mark you so deep inside, I’ll drip out of you for days.”

  I rut my ass against his length. “Oh, fuck, I want that so much, sir. I want you to take it.”

  He pops the top on the lube bottle, drizzles a bit on my ass. It’s cold, but his fingers quickly warm it up.

  A long, low groan escapes my lips when he strokes me, rubs the outer ring of my hole with his fingers. His pressure is gentle, unintrusive. Then he kisses me, shoves his finger inside at the same time, and my moan quickly becomes a mixed cry of pleasure and pain.

  He moves inside me the same way his tongue moves against mine. Before long, one finger becomes two. I clench when he gets to three, struggle to relax. My body isn’t used to this type of intrusion.

  Not that it’s all pain. It’s so much pleasure. There’s so much more that I want from him.

  After a few more tries, and a fuck ton of patience, Griffin three fingers slide in easily. “You’re ready,” he says, and damn. He’s never been more right, and more wrong.

  Slowly, as if to torture me, Griffin takes his time peeling off his clothes. I can’t take my eyes off him. Like the answer key to a final exam, I study the lines of his body, memorize every crease, freckle, and curve.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous when you look at me like that,” he says, his eyes drinking me in just as much.

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Like there isn’t anyone in the world you want more than me.”

  “There isn’t,” I answer, not even considering the implication, not ashamed to admit the truth.

  “Take it.” Griffin hands me the bottle of lube. “Make sure I’m good and slick.”

  I push up to my knees, pop open the top, and squirt the cool gel into my palm, then wrap my hand around his girth. Touching him anytime is hot. Knowing that I’m priming him to fuck me for the first time, to take my virginity, is next level.

  When he’s fully coated, Griffin guides me with his body back onto the bed. He slides in behind me, in a sort of spooning position. Only, I’m turned so I can see his face, kiss his lips.

  He takes my top leg, bends it, and presses it to my chest, opening me up. With one hand on my leg holding it in place, the other at the base of his cock, my boss rubs his head against my primed and ready hole.

  “I’m going to go slow. Take it easy for your first time.”

  “I don’t want easy,” I argue, pushing back against him.

  His thick, engorged head presses against my outer ring. I clench in anticipation, knowing this will hurt, knowing I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  Letting go of my leg, Griffin grabs my neck, sinks his teeth in the sensitive flesh below my ear. I cry out, writhe with the burn of wanting him, knowing he’s denying me.

  “You don’t think I want to bury my cock in your ass, ride you so hard this bed breaks through the wall? Pound into you until you fucking scream my name?”

  I’ve never heard Griffin sound so off-kilter, out of control.

  “I want to, Aiden. I fucking want to. But you know what else I want?” He kisses under my ear where he bit, licks away the hurt.

  I shake my head. Definitely whimper.

  “I want to keep you safe. I want this to feel good for you. And I want to preserve this tight, virgin asshole of yours for when I use it over and over.” He drops his voice so low, it makes him difficult to hear. “There are so many things I want to do with you.
I’m determined to see how many of them we get through in one night.”

  “Oh, fuck,” is all I can say to his words, to the sensation of him knocking at my back door. Of me, letting him in.

  Lightning dances up my spine, every nerve ending enervated. So very fucking alive. Inch by deliciously agonizing inch, my boss, Griffin Hart, takes my virginity.

  Squeezing my eyes tight, I ride the sensation, concentrate on relaxing my hole that wants to tighten around the intrusion. Push it out.

  When Griffin bottoms out, he runs his fingers along my jaw, pulls me in for the type of kiss that lets me know I’m his. That he’s got me. That he cares about my first time.

  Not that I had any doubt.

  Releasing a shaky, restrained breath, Griffin asks, “Are you okay?”

  My lips move against his when I answer, “No. I’m not fucking okay.”

  He pulls back, stares at me, studies my face, looking for clues to see what’s wrong.

  I grin like an idiot, my boss’s dick buried deep in my asshole. “I’m whatever the hell is way past okay.”

  Finding a bit of courage and will of my own, I pull Griffin in for a kiss. This time, when I tell him how I feel with my mouth, he’ll have zero doubt that I want him. I’m in love with him. This is perfect.

  He moves inside me, slow at first. It hurts, but every time he slides back in all the way, it hurts less, until it doesn’t hurt at all. All that’s left is everything that feels right.

  Griffin picks up his pace. The tip of my cock slaps my stomach every time his hips meet my ass. It feels so fucking good, a fact made evident by the clear string of precum leading from my slit to my abs.

  “I’m close,” I say, pulling my leg into my chest, opening up even more for him.

  Doesn’t matter no one’s touched my dick, not even me. With the angle, how he’s shaped, how he’s milking me with every thrust, I’m going to cum for him.

  “I’m almost there, Aiden.”

  He runs his hand down my chest, wraps his fingers tight around my base, making sure I don’t go off just yet.