2. His Scent

2

HIS SCENT

CHARLES

My young assistant was my most valuable asset and the curse of my existence.

I employed Nicolas White three years ago. Doe-eyed and delicate, fresh out of college, he looked like he'd keel over if I breathed on him. But my HR had insisted Nico was the best choice, and so I gave him a chance.

It turned out he was brilliant. Fiercely efficient, an utmost professional, quick and clever, with the moral integrity of a saint.

Why did I think of him as my curse?

It started with his scent. It got to me in the least opportune moments, making me hard under my desk during meetings and negotiations. He would sometimes look at me with those innocent eyes, and something indecipherable would flash in them, and I'd be drowning in them for no reason. But he was so slight and fragile, like a fairy—I wouldn't dare poke at him with a pinkie.

Then he'd gotten himself pregnant, and I'd been furious. Not at him, never at Nico, but at the nameless alpha who got to have him and breed him when I couldn't. As his belly grew and his scent matured, I stopped seeing him as an innocent, ethereal being I would never touch. I wanted to grab him, bend him over my desk, and fuck him until his teeth rattled.

Hence my frequent cold showers.

I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. Like the most delicious treat dangling in front of my nose, he was a distraction I didn't need. But I would never find a better assistant. Besides, sacking a single father just because I was a horny bastard would be a heinous thing to do. I could have moved him within the company, but I didn't.

The raw truth was that when I imagined losing Nico—a man I'd never had to begin with—I was ready to smash the entire office to smithereens and burn the building down.

I jerked off, thinking of Nico's full pecs under his white shirt, his nipples straining the fabric. He'd always been on the slender side, but after the pregnancy, his chest filled out, and the curves drove me nuts. I could imagine his tits in my palms, small, round, with big hard nipples… I'd order him to keep his hands behind his back. Then I would pinch his nips and pull on them, slap them and watch them bloom. I'd suck them and bite them… I came imagining my cum covering Nico's bare chest, clinging to his rosy nipples, white cream on reddened skin. I would use it as a lotion on his tits and order him to lick my hands.

I was a pig.

Thank heavens he would never find out about the perverted fantasies he'd inspired over the years.

After showering, I guzzled a gallon of cold water. Then I sat at my desk and glared at the door. He'd be back soon; Nico was never late.

Except it was already two minutes after our agreed time. Huh . That was strange.

The clock moved, and a knock on the door followed. There he was.

Nico walked in, his arms full of his notes and a laptop. His cheeks were flushed pink, his hair wet, and his eyes flickered around the room restlessly. He didn't look at me.

He'd been a little frazzled lately but performed his tasks with his usual excellence, so I had no reason to bring up his unusual behavior. He looked distracted, but he never missed a thing. The summer heat was getting to us all, and with the air conditioning fucking us over, the entire headquarters had turned into a frying pan. I wouldn't blame him even if he did underperform. Which he didn't.

"I'm ready, sir." He sat at my desk and opened his laptop. "Do you want to go through the financial prospect, or should we finalize the risk analysis first?"

"Let's look at the money. Remind me, what did Luis say about the loans?"

He reshuffled his notes, finding the right paper in the pile within seconds. He was flawlessly organized. A couple more years, and he could lead this company better than I did.

As he pulled a sheet of paper out of the neat stack, his scent wafted over to me.

Oh fuck , I could just as well burn in the hottest pits of fucking hell. I'd noticed the changes in his scent over the years and thought I knew every nuance. But this was unprecedented. I barely swallowed my moan.

There was something new. Some fresh undertones. I'd sometimes smelled chest milk on him, which had been maddeningly arousing, but this was more.

I sniffed. Chest milk…and sex. Like sweat, slick, and omega cum on freshly laundered sheets. That couldn't be real. Was I hallucinating?

Saliva filled my mouth, my cock and balls ached. And I'd just rubbed one out, dammit.

Nicolas White, the curse of my existence.

Here he sat, reading his notes from one of my endless board meetings, and the only thing I could think of was sucking his tits so hard he would mewl. Then he would get on his knees under my desk and choke on my dick.

"Shall I continue, sir?"

Snap out of it, you pervert!

"My apologies, Nico. It's the heat. My brain is cooking."

"I understand, sir."

"Can you repeat the last couple of sentences to me?"

He read, and I listened, trying to think around the colorful fantasies crowding my head. It would be a long evening.

The next day, I smelled it again. We worked overtime, like most nights during the past couple of weeks. After a quick break for an evening meal, Nico sat in my office, tired but efficient as ever and smelling like cream-covered cake and wall-banging sex.

He rubbed his chest with his forearm, seemingly an unconscious movement. He'd taken off his jacket, and his nipples pushed against his white shirt. They looked big and hard.

How was I to focus?

"The numbers on page fifteen," I barked, my voice harsher than I'd intended.

"They were an honest mistake, sir. A typo. I talked to Accounting this morning, and Mr. Clarke apologized profusely. In the version you're reading now, the stats are correct. I've double-checked."

Yeah, he was a gem.

I heard myself grunt, then cleared my throat. I should make an effort to be more appreciative of him. It was a miracle he still worked for me with how I treated him.

"Thank you, Nico."

He jerked his head up, blinking at me with those gentle eyes. "Oh, um, of course."

For fuck's sake. How awful of a boss was I that a simple thank you surprised him?

"Er, sir, I've incorporated your notes into the introduction to chapter five. I know you suggested page seventeen, but I think this way the information gets more attention."

I flipped a page and skimmed the section he alluded to. His solution was much better. Damn him for being perfect in every way.

"Is that okay, sir? I can change it. We still have time."

"No, it's good. Leave it."

"Thank you, sir."

His phone beeped.

"I apologize. It's probably my papa with Benji."

"Take it."

"No, it's okay. I'll message them later."

"Take it." I stood and headed for the door. "I'll be back in five. You can stay in here."

I didn't look back as I strode out of the office.

"Benji, baby, oh, you're so sleepy. Did grandpa read…"

Nico's soft voice got cut off when I closed the door. I glanced at his desk, tidy as always, then walked down the hall. I needed some air, but unless I climbed onto the roof, I would have to wait until I got into my air-conditioned paradise at home.

I could still taste Nico's scent on the back of my tongue.

Nico seemed more nervous than usual, but he was on top of my schedule and probably knew the report we were working on by heart now. I felt like a villain keeping him here after hours, long into the night. He had a kid, for fuck's sake. I should extend his paid leave to three weeks, except I'd probably go insane without him.

I gave him a few minutes to tell his kid goodnight. When I returned, he was already typing away on his laptop. His scent slapped me in the face as soon as I entered.

"I'm ready to continue, sir. Thank you for letting me talk to my son."

"No problem. Where were we?"

"Page nineteen."

At eleven, we were finally done.

"These past few weeks were madness. I appreciate your patience, Nico."

"Thank you, sir. You're very kind."

I scoffed. "No, I'm not. Go home now."

"Yes, sir. Thank you and good night."

"Wait. The gala on Friday."

"Yes?"

"How long can you stay?"

"As long as needed, sir. Benji will be with my parents for the night."

"Good."

He stood and began collecting his things. I needed another cold shower before I drove home. Walking around my desk, I got a good whiff of Nico's scent. Like a kick in the nuts.

I swore under my breath.

Except Nico must have heard it. He stiffened, and a pen fell from the stack of papers and folders in his arms.

"Oh, sorry." He put the pile back onto my desk, about to pick up the pen, but I was faster.

Crouching at his feet, I retrieved it.

Then I was immersed in a cloud of pungent perfume.

Instantly, my brain conjured an image of his face like I'd never seen before. Mouth open on a scream, skin blotched with red, eyes wild… Instead of his impeccable professionalism, he looked unhinged with lust. My brain conjured a picture of him coming on my dick.

I didn't know where I'd gotten the power to stand up and hand him the pen without pouncing on him. Blushing, he mumbled his usual "thank you, sir" and scurried away. He hadn't noticed the tent in my pants.

The door clicked.

I fell to my knees and unzipped my fly. Stroking myself furiously, I laid my head on the upholstered chair where he'd sat just a moment ago. The scent there made my knot tingle. Was I going into a fucking rut? It had never happened to me before, but if anyone could send me there, it was Nico.

His ass had been right here. His cock and his wet hole. In my dreams, his asshole was tiny like the rest of him, smooth and pale, like a closed bud of the gentlest flower. I would kiss it until it would bloom for me, darken, and flare open. So pink and pretty, glistening with my spit.

And then I'd ram my dick in.

My hand flew over my cock, and I made a desperate sound, almost like a sob.

I wanted to fuck Nico so badly I could weep.

Fuck him, suck his perky tits, and fuck him again.

I could bend him over my desk, spank his ass, and drill into him until he screamed. I'd make him come so hard he'd fall in love with me. And I'd keep going and turn his innocent pucker into a filthy, soppy fuckhole, my fuckhole, stretched to fit me , clenching, squelching with slick, loving my dick…

My cum splattered on the hardwood floor under the chair.

I slumped, panting.

How long could I function like this before my self-control snapped?