Grumpy Boss by Hamel, B. (best non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

isn’t what you signed up for,” I said, shifting slightly to face Millie.

She smiled at me, and the soft glow of the street light reflected off her eyes. I wanted to touch her, to run my hands through her hair—but something felt like it held me back, and I wasn’t sure what.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s amazing how far we’ve come, you know. And how long’s it been since we started?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Feels like forever.”

“Three weeks, I think. But yeah, it does feel like forever.” She tilted her head, studying me, and I looked away toward Desmond’s place. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“No,” I said. I knew what she meant: Lady Fluke. I didn’t want to talk about that at all.

“Okay, we don’t have to, but we can when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” I leaned my head back on the seat and wished I could explain how I felt about everything, how it hurt, but also didn’t hurt—because I wasn’t surprised. I knew one day Lady Fluke would find some reason to stop being my friend, like everyone else in my life found a reason to walk away.

Maybe it was my own fault. I was the common factor in all those relationships falling apart. But still, I couldn’t believe it was all on me, or at least not entirely on me. I was driven, and I was difficult, and, hell, I was a real bastard sometimes, but I meant well. I was loyal to my friends, and I was successful in most of what I did. I made sure my employees were taken care of and I gave a big chunk of my income to charity every year. I did all the right things—and yet everyone still assumed I was some kind of monster.

Maybe they were right. I didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter, either. I had one goal, and that was to take this SPAC public, and make a fuck ton of money for Millie. I didn’t give a damn about myself anymore or any of my other investors, though if Millie made money, they’d make money, too. I wanted to make sure she was taken care of, her and her grandmother, because she was the only decent thing in my life anymore, as pathetic as that was.

“Do you think he’s in there?” she asked, peering through the window. “The lights are all off.”

“Could be in bed,” I said, checking my watch. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“Good point. Does he have a job? What does he even do anymore?”

“He runs his own company,” I said. “Sells enterprise software solutions. I don’t even know what the fuck he does, honestly. I think he mostly lives off his investments. I doubt he has many clients.”

“Lives off his investments, and spends all his time obsessing about a grudge over ten years old,” she said softly, and laughed a little bit. “It’s hard to believe, you know?”

“Trust me, I know. I thought he disappeared a long time ago. When they go, they don’t normally come back.” I clenched my jaw, and regretted saying that. Millie looked at me again and reached out suddenly, her hand on my knee. I stared down at it, and wondered why she stuck around—it had to be the money, but maybe it was something else, something hard to pin down or describe. I looked up, into her eyes, and she gave me a tired smile.

“You really want to hear about it, don’t you?” I asked.

“I want you to admit you’re hurting,” she said. “Because maybe then it’ll stop.”

“I’m not sure it works that way,” I said, and leaned toward her. She met me half way, and I kissed her, lingering there in dark, across the street from the man that wanted to destroy me, and had done a pretty damn good job of it so far.

“Come on,” she said, touching my face. “Tell me how you feel.”

I ran my fingers down her cheek, toward her collar bone, then reached to the side of my seat and grabbed the adjustment lever. I pushed with my legs, making room, sliding away from the steering wheel, then pulled her to me, made her straddle me on the seat. I touched her lips with my thumb and kissed her, grabbing her hips as she moved back down against me, wearing a pair of tight black yoga pants and a long sleeve scoop-neck shirt that showed a hint of her firm, smooth breasts.

“You really want to know?” I asked, taking her hand and guiding it down to my cock. She sucked in a little breath and slowly stroked me. “That’s how I feel whenever you’re around.”

“Come on,” she said, smiling a little, her eyes beautiful in the near dark gloom. “You’re not just hard constantly. Only when I’m in your lap.”

I bit her bottom lip and she whimpered. “And when you look at me, touch me, or are within ten feet of me.”

“Must be difficult then, walking around with this.” She gripped my cock on the edge of too hard and I grunted before grabbing her hips.

“Not too bad,” I said. “Worth it, when I get you.” I kissed her again, fist in her hair, and slid my other hand up the front of her top. I pushed up her sports bra and rolled a thumb along her hard, pink nipple, palming her breasts as she wiggled her hips and stroked my cock.

I moved my hands down and tugged at her yoga pants. It was an awkward dance, getting them down, but we managed. Her panties were black and cotton with a bit of lace on the edges, and they pushed aside so easily, her soaking clit and lips on my fingers. I teased her as she arched her back, s till straddling me, and I kissed her harder, biting down.

“You still haven’t told me how you feel,” she said, panting, face flush and beautiful.

“Come on,” I said, smirking as I slid two fingers inside of her. She moaned, eyes