CHAPTER FOUR

Roy tiptoes through the doorway, swallowed by the vast jaws of the CEO's office. Every fiber of his being screams retreat, but his feet keep moving, driven by a morbid fascination. This isn’t an office; it is a palace carved from glass and steel, sprawled across the entire penthouse floor. From what Roy can see, it rivals the size of the entire apartment complex he shares with Hailey and Liam, maybe even double it. Heck, it can probably work as a landing pad for a couple of choppers. What is he doing here?!!!!!

The room is cloaked in twilight, save for a shaft of golden light spearing through a crack in the doorway. Floor-to-ceiling drapes cover the windows, shielding the room from the sun's fiery descent. Paintings, stark against the black-coated steel walls, seemed to leer down at him. His footsteps, muffled by the plush sapphire carpet, sounded like drumbeats against his racing heart. Oh, Christ, Roy feels faint.

Gulping air, he cranes his neck upwards, the ceiling angling down in a weird triangular shape. It takes a beat for his brain to register the reasons: soundproofing. Why in the world will Mr. Anderson need a soundproof office?

Roy shudders. His gaze snags on a living room nestled in the far corner, opulent sofas and armchairs basking in the sliver of sunlight. There was even a bar, stocked with enough liquor to drown away a small country. With every passing second, the air grew thicker, his nerves stretched tauter than a bowstring. He couldn't stall here any longer.

He sucks in a shuddering breath and steels himself to face the man behind the desk. Not a desk – a massive piece of gleaming mahogany that could probably seat a small orchestra. Mr. Anderson sat behind it, a sphinx in a tailored suit, his face obscured by the shadows.

“Mr. Anderson? I was told you wanted to speak with me.” His voice comes out stronger than he feels.

Bryan Anderson's deep-throated chuckle echoes through the dark. Then his voice follows, deep and somehow light... like a growl, “I want more than to speak with you, I’m afraid but I suppose we can do that for now..”

He-he wasn’t giving sexual innuendos behind those words…right?

This is Bryan Anderson—he filed a restraining order against an heiress for goodness sake. Why would he bother flirting with him—Roy, a guy with an evident absence of boobs? Besides the company had a strict non-frat rule.

He makes his rules though. A voice pipes up in Roy's head and he stomps on it instantly.

Nah, he wouldn’t. So Roy relaxes even as Mr. Anderson suddenly stands up and saunters toward him. Why hasn’t the fact that he’s so incredibly tall been mentioned in the news journals? Something as important as this should have been included in their employee manuals at least.’ Roy groans.

The shadow behind Mr. Anderson makes him look taller, scarier, and unfortunately—hotter, too. It’s because he looks very mysterious, Roy supposes. He swallows, but he isn’t sure if it’s out of terror or excitement. Maybe a mix of both.

“I know you’re wondering why you’re here.”

Roy bites his lip. That obvious huh?

“Do you have something to say, Mr. Jordan?”

Eff. What that witch said was true. The CEO does know his name.

He bites his lip harder. There’s nothing he can say to defend himself, plus this company and its workers are certainly homophobic.

Mr. Anderson speaks with a smooth tone like a snake gliding over a rough stone. "I like to work with honest people, Mr. Jordan. Remember that from now on. If you have something to say, go ahead."

Roy wonders if it's just him, but that go-ahead sounds rather ominous. Knowing that he has to obey whatever the CEO wants, he says carefully, "I'm just amazed you know my name, Mr. Anderson."

Roy can't see his smile, but he can feel it, all the way down to his toes, which curl involuntarily. This can't be real. He can't be attracted to his boss while his job is at stake.

Mr. Anderson's voice lowers a notch. "You have no idea what I know about you, Mr. Jordan—and how much I'm curious to know more."

He's NOT flirting with me, Roy shivers, God, why is my heart pounding so hard?

"You don't trust me?"

He wriggles, 'Do I need to be honest again?

"You are 20 years old, single, orphaned, living in West Street, and your only two friends are Hailey and her brother Liam."

Holy crap! Roy's jaw drops as he looks at Bryan. He has a bad feeling that Bryan even knows he gave his virginity to his math teacher in high school.

“Roy…” his stomach clenches on hearing Bryan’s deep voice call his name, “What is your favorite color?”

Oh.

Why is he asking him that?

A flood of color rushes to his cheeks and he gulps, “Pink sir.”

Bryan hums, a smile on his face, “I don’t want you in any colors aside from pink.”

His eyes widen in shock. He—he want-ts him to wear pink in his company?

“If you love glitters on your skin, then use it.” Bryan rakes his eyes over him.

Roy still can’t speak.

"Shall we have lunch together?" Mr. Anderson suddenly asks in a smooth, almost oily voice, but the hand that settles on Roy's back is anything but. It sends a jolt of electricity crackling through his veins, making him flinch.

"What?" Roy stammers, his voice a squeak in the quiet office. He shoots away like a startled rabbit, putting as much space as possible between him and his unsettling boss. Mr. Anderson's smile, a flash of porcelain in the dim light, doesn't falter.

Before Roy can blink, he is spun around like a ragdoll, Mr. Anderson's grip surprisingly firm on his shoulder. His emerald eyes, usually aloof, hold a glint of something Roy couldn't decipher, a mix of amusement and...something else entirely. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and Roy feels his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Oh. Roy is soooo effed!

Bryan Anderson is perfect. His hair may be cut ruthlessly short, but it doesn’t make a difference to how silky smooth it appears, how the sight of it begs for a touch. Roy wants to know how it feels, to run his fingers through his hair.

HIS lashes are ungodly long, framing his impossibly green eyes—like leaves in the peak of summer. His face looks as if it’s been chiseled by the Devil, with his sexy devil-may-care smirk. High cheekbones, an aristocratic nose, wonderfully natural red lips, and a prominently strong jaw. Perfect.

Mr. Anderson is only wearing a pale green dress shirt of the finest silk, having discarded his blazer in the office earlier. The way it brings out the green in his eyes should be illegal. It’s partially unbuttoned, allowing Roy more than a glimpse of his boss’s boss’s boss’s smooth brown chest. Even without feeling it, he knows that it would feel wonderfully hard under his fingers. A spike of lust shoots through him, and the blood rushes to his dick.

But what makes him breathless, what makes his body go weak and an embarrassing hardness in his pants is how Mr. Anderson is gazing at him.

He’s looking at him like he wants to devour him, and the sexual tension emanating from him—from Roy, from them is palpable.

Roy can’t tear his eyes off him.

Roy is no naïve virgin so almost immediately, two things became glaring to Roy.

One, It was BRYAN ANDERSON, definitely hetero guy—judging from the stories in the media—LOOKING AT HIM—ROY, A MAN, WITH A DISTINCT LACK OF BOOBS—LIKE THAT! Whatever label he has secretly, his boss looks like he wants to sink his teeth into his neck, or his cock into his mouth. Jesus. Roy’s dick throbs…hard and terror curls in his spine. Why him? Sure he looks feminine with his slim build and red lips that look to be always pulled into a pout….but Anderson can't want anyone else in the world…why… him?

Two…? Roy can’t think.

Bryan’s nostrils flare. “You are so beautiful.”

Roy takes a step backward and almost curses when he realizes that he’s stupidly backed himself into a corner. Mr. Anderson closes the distance between them and, when his gorgeous face looms close, Roy forgets all about his fear that this discovery is supposed to be a deeply buried secret and just focus on keeping himself from hyperventilating.

God, he’s hot.

God, God, God, he’s so hot.

Mr. Anderson bends his head, nuzzling Roy’s hair, “So much gel. Why?”

It takes him a while to realize what his boss is asking. And what it means.

“I…have really bad hair,” he says, stumbling over the words because he’s so tense…so hard…so damn hard, he can come from a kiss from Bryan Anderson. Not that he wants it…but you understand… He has a hard time stringing words together. He tenses, even more, when a wet tongue slides over his ear, savoring. Roy feels close to fainting when Bryan inhales as though breathing in his scent.

“You smell so good.”

Oh… Roy feels shivers crawl up his skin.

Bryan’s head moves lower and he nuzzles his neck, inhaling again, “So good.” He says with something akin to reverence just before inhaling his scent again.

It feels as if he’s worshipping Roy, and just the thought that this powerful man wants him so much makes him moan again, it’s too much. He’s too close, too hot, too everything that Roy’s hips are arching towards Bryan before Roy realizes what he is doing

“Roy.”

The sound of his name on Bryan’s lips tears the last of his restraints.

Roy twirls his arms around his neck just as Bryan Anderson brings him closer to him, his lips taking his in an unashamedly carnal open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues touch, play, and entwine as their bodies fuse. His fingers bite into his butt as he pulls Roy even close, and he groans against his mouth when he feels Bryan’s erection against his, larger than life, pulsing like hell, hard, oh so f-king hard. It’s incredibly sexy.

He makes Roy want to forget all the rules he’s made for himself and just have sex with him right this very minute. He’s never felt this way before and it was a feeling that he doesn’t ever want to lose. It’s only now Roy understands why women beg for Bryan’s touch desperately. He kisses like an incubus, clearing every restraint in Roy with a stroke of his hot tongue against Roy’s.

He knows he should push Bryan away. That would have been the sensible thing to do, if not the right one, but Roy can’t. It’s impossible. He’s irresistible. Roy’s hands rush all over him, and he can’t help but moan when he finally knows what his hair feels like. Extremely silky.

Bryan Anderson doesn’t stop kissing him, and he’s a master at it, knowing exactly when to go soft and when to go deliciously rough, his lips and tongue dancing in a way that makes Roy’s head swim and his body becomes more and more supple in his hands. The sensual spell he weaves is so potent Roy has gone over the edge, his thoughts turning from sensible to tacky.  Feed me your tongue. Oh. I love it. thank effing God, his mouth is covered by Bryan’s and those are just thoughts.

All too soon, Byran pulls away from him, “Breath Roy.”

His eyes widened then he begins sucking gulps of air when he realizes what’s wrong with him.

This is embarrassing. Roy thinks.

Bryan’s kisses closed up his lungs, making his brain forget the mere activity of drawing in air. When he looks up, Mr. Anderson’s face is a mix of amusement and worry.

“You are unbelievable,” he says, his gaze possessive as it roamed around Roy’s face. A tender smile touches Mr. Anderson’s lips and it’s as though a punch was socked into Roy’s guts and he breathes even harder. This is the first time he thinks Mr. Anderson’s ever smiled. Those photos on the internet don’t do him any justice at all. So sexy. Roy flushes as precum shoots from his tip, soaking his boxers. Bryan lets out a growl as if he felt Roy leak against him, their trouser-clad hips flush.

“I want something from you.” Bryan finally says, his voice turning husky.

“Y-you do?” it’s so hard to think when Bryan is looking at Roy like that and his erection is still grinding against him.

“You’re the only one who can give me what I want.”

The heat of his gaze makes Roy’s leak even more. It’s as if he’s lost control of his body. He badly wants to cum. He’ll do anything if it means Bryan quenches this raging fire in his pants.

“I want you, Roy.” He whispers, the words going straight to Roy’s dick.

“For what?” Roy whispers back.

Bryan’s eyes seek his, blazing with life. “First thing, you have to know that you are my mate.”

Okay, that’s enough to make Roy a little less cross-eyed. Finally finding a resolve, Roy pushes him away, his voice shaky, “What do you mean? This is no dystopian world where people are given mates.”

He stares at Bryan and whatever Roy sees in the depths of his eyes makes his heart twinge. It feels like he’s been slapped across the face. “I knew it. This is some sick joke. I hate you, Mr. Anderson.”

That said, he tries to yank his arm from Bryan’s grip who doesn’t let go. Of course, Mr. Anderson wasn’t attracted to him. Kissing him was….probably something a macho douche like him would do…to make fun of him. Roy feels tears sting his eyes as he recalls his shameless reaction to Bryan Anderson’s mouth.

But he was hard! Roy’s subconscious pops up and his heart crushes even harder. He must have been so aroused that he imagined that too.

“I was hoping you won’t require proof—” Bryan starts to say.

“I don’t need any kind of proof from you!” Cut in Roy as he tries to yank his arm again to no avail.

“But I see there’s no other way,” he continues as if Roy hasn’t said anything. When Roy tries to kick his groin, he easily avoids it.

Roy shakes his head, his heart strumming loudly, “Look I’m not interested in any of your sick games. Everyone knows you’re not gay! So why did you kiss me? Let me go!” he yells.

Bryan's eyes flash with a red-hot emotion and Roy takes a step back.

Growling, Bryan lifts Roy over his shoulder and walks deeper into the office, dropping him on the couch.

Staring at him, Bryan begins to unbutton his shirt.

“What-what are you trying to do?” Roy asks with wide eyes as Bryan’s fingers drift to the third button.

Is Mr. Anderson trying to rape me?’ Roy thinks with a shudder, feeling appalled when he realizes how much the thought appeals to him. Bryan’s hands, on his throat, squeezing roughly as he feeds him his cock, forcing it down his throat. Hmmph. Roy tries to run away.

Bryan catches him before he could even take more than a step past him, throwing him back on the couch with ease. Roy doesn’t stop trying to escape and Bryan never fails to drag him back, he doesn’t even look exerted with all the times he has had to carry Roy back to the couch. The man must live in a gym! Roy thinks with terror.

Roy panics when he realizes Bryan is down to his fancy custom-designed pants.

Oh my god,” Roy gasps when he begins to tug his zipper down. For one moment he was insanely tempted. How big would Bryan’s cock be? Fat and long. Ryan is appalled at his thoughts.

When Bryan’s trousers join his shirt on the floor, Roy groans silently.

Why God? Why, why, why did you have to make someone this irresistible?

This guy. His abs.

Roy wants to cry at the sheer beauty of it and the unfairness of the situation. If only he hadn’t decided to play the sick joke on him. If Bryan had just asked to have sex, maybe—maybe, he could have said yes. A nightstand with his (not so straight) boss wasn’t the smartest but they are both adults…. If this is mere experimenting for his boss, he can live with that.

But to think Bryan wants him to believe his prank when he said they were mates? As if that term even exists.

Bryan still fuming, ignores him and slides his boxers down and his heavy manhood springs free, making Roy shriek in terror and arousal.

“You can’t rape me. I-I don’t want it.” Roy falters, his hands moving up to cover his eyes.

Roy trembles violently as he cowers on the couch, waiting for Bryan to make his move but nothing happens.

Braving himself, he creaks an eye open and the next thing he sees makes a scream rip from his lungs.

A wolf. A big grey wolf bares his teeth at his face.