HATING THE BOSS (Hating Him #1)

Prologue

Prologue

There is no present or future, only the past, happening over and over again, now.

- Eugene O’Neill

ETHAN

“I hope you taste as good as you smell.”

The sound drifted through the air. A slow, sensuous melody floated with it, and as both made their way through the room, the beat of the song and the quiet statement I just heard rattled the bourbon in my hand, making the ice cubes shake.

Or maybe I was the one shaking.

I couldn’t help it.

Griff was poking a hole in my ribs with his elbow, and as the lips that had just whispered in my ear withdrew, I could see the look on my “best man’s” face. He was essentially salivating, his tongue practically swinging as he took in the vision of the woman who was speaking in my ear… and laying a seductive path in my open lap.

She stood, her long legs stretching, her bare torso twisting as she rolled the shape of an “S” in the air with her body, swaying seductively to the music. She was toned… that was obvious. A tight package with t**s too big to be real, the buxom blonde in front of me was the object of every man’s wet-dream, star of every c**k-swinger’s fantasy…

Except mine.

But she was doing her best. Clad in a piece of cloth that barely covered her clearly cleanly-waxed p***y, she ground her pretty ass two inches from my face while every other man in the room fought the urge to put their fingers all over her. My best friend, included. He nudged my side for the ninetieth time.

“f**k me, man,” he slurred. “If she was doing that to me, I’d be two seconds from slapping her tight ass.” He smirked widely and wildly.

“Good thing you aren’t me,” I shot back quietly, leaning over to look into his face. “That’d be a felony, you lunatic.” I finally smiled. “And the last time I checked you didn’t f**k strippers because ‘and I quote… ‘Who knows how many other items have been in those goddamned holes?”

I threw Griff’s own words back at him with a silent grin.

“Doesn’t matter,” he declared, staring at the stripper in front of me for the thousandth time. “For her?” He swallowed another mouthful of scotch. “I’d make an exception.”

I admired the beautiful blonde again, and Griff was right. She might be the best looking exotic dancer I have ever seen. Maybe the best. She was tall, long-legged. Gorgeous… in the p**n star sense, of course, with a wide, luscious mouth made for licking and sucking in only the most erotic of ways.

She licked her lips at me as if she wanted to make good on the promise she’d just whispered, and I had no doubt when she looked at me, her brown doe-like eyes wide, that—if she could, she would devour me until nothing was left. Until she drained every drop.

Unfortunately, for her, I wasn’t interested.

She tried to drag me to my feet, her tiny fingers wrapping around my own, pulling as she walked backwards in the direction of the edge of the room. The overhead maroon lights illuminating the space in our black-curtain closed boudoir made her look as naughty as every word dripping from her blood-red mouth. Bambi was putting on her best pout to entice me into joining her towards whatever dirty fun lay in the dark room beyond this one.

All of the men—friend and foe—whooped as I slowly dragged myself to my feet, stumbling and fumbling over the discarded decorations that littered the floor. Streamers and “Congratulations” ribbons ran the length of the room, taking up space between the cloth-covered tables, and I staggered past them, barely holding onto my Bourbon as I followed stolidly behind the too-excited dancer who nearly bounced on her platform-covered toes.

With the push of another curtain, we fell into another room, and I let my body flounce on the dark-colored couches beyond it, slumping into the padded cushions. I took a healthy swig of my drink and sank my fingers into the seat beneath, wondering how many stains these comfortable sofas had really seen.

The drunker I got, the more it didn’t matter. Ignorance truly was bliss.

And so was the sensation making its way down my crotch—a gentle rubbing that circled the length of my c**k through the fabric of my suit pants. From the tip to the very base. I groaned, closing my eyes as I saw a vision in my mind. A vision too good to be true.

A vision that was nine years old.

Waves of dark hair fell to a waist too tiny to be anything but touched. Shiny and soft, the beautiful brown mane swept across my chest, against my shirt, as two eyes, a crystal-clear blue, peeked from beneath the strands, as round and as large as saucers. In my mind, they met mine, saying things that couldn’t be vocalized, voicing words that need not be said.

They seduced in the most innocent of ways, waylaying me, pulling at a possessiveness in me I didn’t know existed. The blue eyes smiled. The smile beneath them was even better—wicked, as it dipped to my abdomen and pressed there, making me ache, causing my c**k to strain against the inconvenient zipper located there.

How many times had I imagined those lips doing exactly that? That tongue licking out beneath those straight white teeth to lap at my skin, the edge of her mouth nipping at the most sensitive parts of me? It was torture—letting her tease me, taking me to the brink and back again as she swept that sheet of auburn locks over my body as she bent to her knees. I sucked in a breath soaked in desire as I waited for her to place her mouth where it mattered most.

And then it stopped. The teasing. She stopped.

But I was too busy imagining she was pulling—no, ripping—at my pants. The top button would pop, and suddenly my c**k would be between her hands, her lips. She would sink her mouth around it with a sigh, sucking with delight. The sexiest slurp ever made to man would escape from between her teeth, and I’d nearly lose it, grinding my own teeth as I gripped the back of her head, my eyelids squeezing tight enough to ache.

“f**k, f**k, f**k…” I would mutter. Over and over and over again.

It would be so damn amazing. Something so simple—someone so simple, sweet and secretly naughty could bring a stubborn fucker like me—CEO and all—to his Giorgio Armani-covered knees.

With her name on my mind and my c**k in her mouth, I would o****m hard and let my head fall against the cushions as I did.

“f**k, Kat…” I mumbled, feeling way too f****d up to move, the liquor coursing through my veins as I came down from my high, my fingers reaching out to touch her once more.

But she backed away.

I opened my eyes, staring at the figure fumbling around in front of me. It was the blonde vixen—the stripper. Standing on shaky legs, she wobbled between my legs, locking me with a stare, her eyes hard and unblinking. She placed her hands on her tiny hips.

“Who the hell is Kat?”

In that instant, I realized that everything I’d just experienced—the touches, the tasting, the ache in my chest and the woman that was causing it.

They were all unreal. I was imagining it.

The stripper hadn’t put her mouth on me at all. But I could tell she was outraged.

As if she had any right to question whatever the hell I was doing anyway. I ignored her with a shrug, shifting my hard-on inside my pants. I finished my drink and sat it down.

“Ohhhh, I get it,” Bambi hissed. “This Kat must be your fiancée. Well, I guarantee you that she will never make you come the way I was about to. It would have been epic, baby,” she sighed, trying to straddle me. Her p***y was peeking completely out of her barely-there panties this time, and she tried to rub it across me, sliding her pink slit across the front of my pants with a slow grind.

As I stood, she almost fell.

“There is no fiancée,” I rumbled.

“But I thought…”

“My friends,” I interrupted, “thought it’d be funny to celebrate my new position. They said it was fitting… seeing as how I’m now married to my job. This isn’t a real bachelor party. In fact, none of this is real.” I sighed. “Not at all.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Certainly felt real to me.”

I pulled out my wallet, taking out a couple hundred dollar bills and putting them in the palm of her hand. I folded her fingers around them, looking into her eyes.

“I’m sorry. You are beautiful…” I hesitated. “But it wasn’t real to me. It couldn’t be; not when I was thinking about someone else the entire time.”

I turned, just as the fair-haired vixen raised a hand to slap me. I pulled the black curtain aside, exiting, attempting to avoid the curious gaze of every onlooking employee that came to the party to usher me into my new executive role.

My smile was weak, as I tried to shake off what just happened to me in the other room… and who I was imagining it happening with. Somehow, it was the brunette in my head, and not the blonde on my lap, that felt as if she were still on my skin.

I was in so much f*****g trouble.