Chapter 5
Wesley
“Tanaka!” Pierce shouts from his office, shocking Derek and I. “Office. Now.”
His voice leaves no debate. He seems super fucking mad. That can’t be good.
Derek glances at me and says, “Ooh, someone’s in trouble.” His tone is joking, but I’m actually worried.
This has happened before, but not in the middle of work.
I throw the towel on the counter and head up to his office, just a few steps above the main floor and to the right. The door is open, which is how we can hear him. When I step inside, Pierce is standing at a giant window overlooking the city. He’s wearing a blue suit that’s tailored to him perfectly. No socks, dark brown loafers, and when he turns, I see he’s got his tie on, but it’s loose. His hair is slicked back with gel, and his eyes look tired. He’s been looking like that for a while, as if something is bothering him.
I’m trying really hard not to give a rat’s ass.
“Shut the door,” he says in a stern voice, and fuck if it doesn’t do something to my body. It always does. As much as I hate him, my body doesn’t.
He walks to his desk and sits. His brows are furrowed, and his blue eyes are dark. His lips… fuck! Don’t think about those. The way they felt on my skin as he kissed down my spine to my—
I shift in my seat and cross one leg over the other.
Fucking hell, Wes. Don’t do that.
“What do you want?” I ask, not caring about being polite. He’s been riding my ass since he became manager. I think we’ve moved past the point of politeness.
“I just want to warn you,” he says in too calm a tone. “It’s recommended that you don’t fraternize with the clientele.”
“What?”
“You’re liked, and although that’s good for business, you can’t be… having relations with them. That’s a bad idea.”
Ooookay.
“Basically, don’t fuck the clientele,” he says, dropping the calm and going for exasperated instead.
What the fuck? Why is he telling me this? I know the rules. Hooking up with customers happens, but I know we aren’t supposed to. Anger builds in me, not only on the surface but deep down. The pain I’ve stomped down is starting to bubble to the surface.
“Okay, first of all, I’ve never done that. Second, I know the rules. I’ve been a bartender for years.”
“I know. And I know that it happens, but I need to make sure everyone knows the rules.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at how obnoxious he’s sounding. Sure, it’s his job as the boss to make sure we know the rules, but he’s treating me like a child. Every week I’m coming in here, and he’s telling me shit like this.
What the fuck is his problem?
“Do you have something against me? Why are you always pulling me in here to tell me shit I already know?”
He remains still as he says, “No. I don’t have anything against you.”
“Then why? What did I do?”
“Nothing,” he says. “You’re just new. To me, I mean. I know you’ve worked here for longer than me. But I did this with other bartenders I’ve worked with. You don’t get an exception.”
I stare at him like he’s got a second head.
“I don’t get an exception? What about the others? You don’t fuck with them nearly as much as me.” I shake my head. “You know what. I think I know what this is about. This is about us.”
He raises an eyebrow. “There is no us, so why would you think that?”
Fucking bastard.
“Because we have history. And whether you want to admit it or not, it happened. I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing pretending it didn’t happen, but stop it. Stop fucking with me.”
Pierce gets up from his desk and moves to the side where I can see all of him—from his blue suit down to his dark brown loafers.
I stand and step towards him, and he doesn’t move. The closer I get, the more I can smell his cologne. The same one he wore at the bar six months ago—the one that’s haunted my dreams and nightmares. The kind of cologne I bought even though I hated him. Because there’s some reason I won’t let go even though it’d be so much easier if I did.
“I know you know me, man, so cut the shit.” I stab at his chest with my pointer finger, and electricity buzzes between us. I’m tired of this nonsense. I should’ve confronted this man months ago, but I guess I was too scared to hear what he really thought if he told me. Well… not anymore.
Thick tension swirls in the room as I realize I am so close to him that I can feel his body heat. I can see how his white shirt molds to his chest, and I can count the eyelashes behind his black-rimmed glasses.
In one moment, I go from wanting to storm out to cupping the back of his neck and pulling him closer to me. Our chests meet, our mouths open, and we are both panting softly with no words coming out.
I look him in the eyes and say, “You say you don’t know me. Maybe it’s time I remind you.” Then I slam my lips against his. His lips still taste the same as when we first met, and I feel myself leaning against him and into his warmth.
At first, he doesn’t move. He stands completely still, and regret hits me hard.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that.
I pull back, releasing him, and look down at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Then a couple of fingers under my chin pulls my head up and cups my jaw.
With a cruel tone, he growls, “If you’re going to go for something, go for it. Boy .”
That “boy” sets off fireworks in my belly, and I want to touch him so badly, but that it also makes the submission set in. As much as I want to grip the back of his neck and pull him into me, I can’t. My body wants him in control. Pierce smirks and I see something shift in his eyes, like he’s giving in after holding on for so long. But the second he shows it, he seems to pull back and returns to being the man with all the control. He grips my hips and pulls me with him until his back is against the wall. He rubs his erection against mine, over our pants, and I fucking wish we were naked.
I move my hand from his hip to his belt, trying to loosen it.
What the fuck are you doing? This is your boss!
But I don’t stop until I feel Pierce’s grip on my wrist. I pull back to see lust-filled eyes and swollen lips.
He licks his lips that I desperately want to kiss again, then says, “Kneel.”
I drop like a stone.
Pierce casually leans against the wall, his hips protruding as he undoes his belt. He doesn’t look at me while he does it and takes his time. My hands twitch on my knees as I wait to see his dick. When he finally pulls down the zipper, reaches into his pants, and frees his cock, my mouth waters. He’s just like I remember. Even the arrogant way his shaft bobs in front of my face is the same. He’s veiny and rigid and slightly curved. The only indication that he’s as desperate as I am is the way his cock twitches and the drops of pre-cum coming out of his reddened head.
Standing up straight, he grips himself hard as he grasps the back of my head.
“You want this cock, Boy? You want to gag on it, swallow all my cum?” He raises an eyebrow as he asks. This isn’t a hypothetical question.
“Yes.” I breathe and grip his muscular thighs. “Please…” I remember what the terms were that night. “Please, Sir.”
The corner of his lip almost turns into a smile before he nods and taps his cock against my lips.
“Open up,” he commands.
I part my lips and moan as he sinks every inch of his cock down my throat. I take as much as I can, which turns out to be a lot. His balls tap my chin every time he thrusts into my mouth.
“Fuck me,” he growls. “Such a hot fucking mouth. You’re taking my cock so well, baby. Wet. Hot. Deep.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, and I feel my cock aching in my jeans.
Pierce casually adjusts his glasses as if he’s not being deep-throated by his employee.
His thrusts are so controlled, and I wonder for a second what he would be like out of control. I’ve never seen him wild with need. Sure, his eyes are feral, but his movements are those of someone who’s almost robotic in his ability to keep himself steady.
As opposed to me, who keeps fidgeting in my position. There’s an ache developing in my knees, but I don’t mind the pain. It is vastly outdone by the pleasure of Pierce using my mouth.
“Aw, does my Boy want to come? Is he aching? Needy? Hard as fucking stone?”
I try to nod as much as I can.
Fuck. I am. I am, and those words aren’t helping.
“Take it out,” Pierce says. “But don’t touch it yet. Just take it out.”
I release his thighs and undo my belt. The second my hand touches my cock, I wish he didn’t add that second order. But I take it out like a good boy and don’t stroke it.
“Good Boy,” Pierce groans and rubs his thumbs across my scalp.
I moan around his dick and close my eyes, feeling the pleasure wash over me. His petting my head is in vast contrast to his violent thrusts.
“Such a beautiful cock,” he says under his breath, then he picks up the pace.
He rocks his hips again and again until he’s coming down my throat.
“Swallow it. Swallow every… last… drop,” he groans through every word until he’s finished. He pulls out slowly, his cock half-hard and wet with my saliva.
Panting, I grip my knees and look down at the ground, trying to catch my breath. I am so fucking hard, and watching Pierce's eyes as he came almost made me come.
I forgot how much I missed this.
“Look at me,” he says, and I lift my eyes.
His eyes are softer than before but still swimming with lust. He kneels down and reaches out, grabbing my cock which causes me to curse and grip my knees harder.
“Fuck me,” I gasp.
Pierce chuckles, “Not today. Right now, I want you to come on my hand.”
With that, he slowly strokes my cock from the base all the way to the tip, where he gathers my pre-cum and slides it down the shaft.
“Are you going to be a good boy and come on my hand, Wes?”
He says my name, and I twitch in his grasp, making him smirk. I grip his suit jacket, press my forehead against his, and start to thrust in his grip.
That smirk tells me he knows how it affects me. Whether he likes it or not, but that’s another question. One that I don’t want to answer right now. I just want to come.
“Yes,” I say. “Fuck. I’m so close.”
“How close?” he asks, picking up the pace.
“So fucking close,” I almost cry as the pleasure is too much but not enough.
Pierce grips the back of my neck with his free hand and whispers into my ear, “Come, baby. Come all over my hand like the good boy I know you are.”
“Fuuuuuuck,” I groan as I come. Covering his hand in my cum. Pleasure rushes through me like a crashing wave, and I’m left leaning against Pierce and panting.
When he releases me, he stands up and moves to his desk and pulls out a tissue to clean his hand. He also puts his cock back into his pants, and I notice that he’s fully hard and try to ignore it.
I put myself back as well, and when I stand up, he’s returned to looking exactly like before. Suit straight and confident and carefree stance. But I can still see something in his eyes that gives me a sense that this isn’t over.
“I knew you remembered me, you bastard,” I say, pushing him against the wall.
“I know you knew,” he says softly, regretfully. “I thought it was best.”
“Best for who?” I ask, angry that he put up this facade. Making me go back and forth between thinking he was right and I was crazy to being absolutely sure he knew me.
Pierce doesn’t answer. It looks like he doesn’t know why he did it.
I start walking backwards. I need to think. And I can’t do it around him. Because every time I’m around him, the world fades away, and he’s all I can think about.
So I walk out of his office. And he doesn’t stop me. Or come for me.
PIERCE
What the fuck was that Pierce?
I grip my desk as my head swims with lust and panic. I spent the last few months keeping myself from doing exactly what just happened. Not touching him. Not thinking he wants me for one second and doing everything in my power to make sure he hated me.
Everything just blew up in my face.
Now he knows I remember him, which I wasn’t doing the best job at hiding anyway. I slam my hands against the desk and walk into the adjoining bathroom, washing my face with cold water.
Control was something that I prided myself on, and I was fine until him. Somehow, Wesley has managed to pluck at the careful strings of my life, and I can’t quite comprehend why I’m letting him. I look at myself in the mirror. Tired blue eyes look back at me. I’m tired of fighting this, but too much of a coward to pursue it.
I wish there was a middle ground. Somewhere I could indulge with Wesley, but my heart is safe in its locked box where it belongs.
I dry my face and hands with a towel and exit the bathroom. I can smell sex and Wesley’s scent in the room. I inhale deeply.
Oh, fuck.
I’m going to need to have a conversation with Wesley.