by King, Wyatt
Shouldn’t Want Him
Wyatt King
Copyright © 2019 by Wyatt King
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author has asserted his rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.
Contents
1. Garrick
2. Dusty
3. Garrick
4. Dusty
5. Garrick
6. Dusty
7. Garrick
8. Dusty
9. Garrick
10. Dusty
11. Garrick
12. Dusty
Epilogue - Six Months Later
More from Wyatt King
1
Garrick
I shouldn’t want him, but I do.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about him like this, but I am.
He’s my best friend’s son. I’ve done business with his dad for twenty years—a year longer than the boy standing in front of me has even been alive, for God’s sake.
The last thing I should be doing is fantasizing about him, picturing what he might look like on his knees with those pretty, full lips stretched around my—
“Um, Mr. Ward?” he asks, worrying one of those perfectly pink lips between his teeth as his eyebrows knot together. “You, um… wanted to see me?”
Yes.
Naked.
Now.
“I did—do. Yes.” I stand up from behind my desk and smooth my tie. No. Nope. Not going to start this way. Not going to let my cock override my good fucking sense. “You were late today.”
His face falls and I see him swallow hard. I honestly hadn’t planned on bringing it up—it’s the kid’s first day, and even though I hold my employees to a high standard, I’m willing to overlook a few things to keep his dad happy.
“Y-yes, sir. I’m sorry. It was… there was a lot of traffic, and I kind of got turned around once I got downtown and…” His words trail off with a whimper as I hold up a hand.
“I’m not looking for excuses, Dustin.”
Dustin.
Dusty.
Little Dusty Harper, all grown up. Fuck, what a difference a few years can make.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll… I’ll do better. I promise.”
I believe him.
One hundred percent.
He doesn’t look like he’s even capable of lying to me, and I fucking love that.
So innocent.
So trusting.
So fucking sexy that I can hardly think straight.
“I can’t work like this,” I say, the words slipping out before I even realize I’ve said them. I’m talking more about the urge I have to bend him over my desk right now rather than his job performance, but when I see the tears well up in his eyes, I wish I had done a better job of keeping the thought to myself.
Unfortunately, it happens to be the truth.
I can’t work like this—walking around with a hard-on like I’m Dusty’s age instead of a grown-ass man pushing forty with a business to run.
“Are you…” He swallows hard again. “Are you going to fire me?”
No.
Not like this.
“I think that might be the best thing,” I say, ignoring my traitorous body. “For both of us.”
“No, please.” He’s shaking his head—in fact, his whole body is shaking, trembling as he takes a step toward me. “You can’t. Please.”
I meet him in the middle of the office, my feet carrying me toward him even though my brain definitely wants me to stay behind my desk.
He stumbles and I instinctively catch him. I’m keeping him at arm’s length, but there’s no denying the frisson of excitement that rushes through my body when he looks up at me with those big, beautiful eyes.
Fuck.
What am I doing?
“You’re going to have to get yourself together,” I say, again more for my own benefit than his. “You’re a smart ki—young man, and there are plenty of firms who could use someone like you. I’ll be happy to give you a good reference.”
“But I want to be here.” He’s pleading with his eyes and his voice and his body. It’s too much. “My dad will kill me if he finds out I’ve been fired on my first day, and… and I want to be with you—to work with you, I mean.”
Jesus, he has no idea what he’s doing to me.
This is torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.
I make sure he’s steady on his feet before letting my hands drop back down to my sides, only to instantly wish that I hadn’t.
My fingers are itching to touch him again, and I have to actually take a step back to put some more distance between us before I embarrass myself.
“Your dad will understand,” I lie, looking away from him so I don’t feel quite as guilty. Except that’s a big fucking fail, because I can still hear him sniffling, still practically feel him trembling even though I’m very consciously keeping my distance now. “He’ll know that it’s just… just business. It’s just not going to work out, Dusty.”
Shit.
I make the mistake of looking back into his eyes again. And then, since I apparently have no good judgment left, I reach for him again, barely stopping myself before I take his arm and pull him to me again.
But I can’t.
I can’t.
Don’t do it.
Don’t even think about it.
Don’t touch him. Get yourself together.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say, my voice sounding deep and gravelly even to my own ears. “It’s going to be okay.”
Again, I’m lying. And again, I hate myself a little for it. His dad is not going to understand, and I’ll no doubt catch hell for it just as soon as he finishes yelling at Dusty.
Jesus, I would keep him here if I could—if I thought for a minute that I could keep my thoughts and my hands off him.
But he’s been in my office all of five minutes and I’ve not been able to resist touching him yet.
My arm is still outstretched, but even the thought of how awkward this is getting doesn’t make me drop it to my side. If anything, my hands is inching closer to him all by itself.
Maybe if he wasn’t so fucking perfect.
So fucking sexy.
And innocent.
And beautiful.
But he is. He really is all of those things.
And he’s going to ruin me if I don’t get him out of my office right now.
2
Dusty
I’m shaking.
I’m nearly crying.
I have so many emotions running through me right now that I think I might be sick.
And even though I know this is all my fault, it still feels really unfair. Garrick knows me—or he should. He knows my dad, anyway. He should know that I didn’t want to be late, that this whole morning has just been one thing after another—and all completely out of my control.
But the expression on his face is hard and cold, and he clearly doesn’t care about my excuses. He looks like he’s ready to physically throw me out of his office.
Except… then he stops.
<
br /> He’s only a few feet away, and his hand is outstretched like he’s going to grab my arm. But he doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks… uncertain.
Maybe he’s having second thoughts. This could be my chance to change his mind.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, my eyes drifting down to the hand that is just a few inches away from my arm. I’m not sure if I’m moving or if he is, but his hand is getting closer.
My breath catches in my throat, and I swallow hard as I make eye contact with him again. I don’t know why he’s hesitating, but I can see his conflicted emotions clearly on his face.
There’s still a hint of irritation, but that’s fading. Then there’s the uncertainty that’s taken its place.
And then there’s something else—something that I can see around his eyes and in the way his lips part just a fraction of an inch as he stares me down.
It’s something strong and hot and barely contained by his expensive suit and the carefully controlled movements he’s making.
“You don’t need to apologize again, Dusty,” he says. His voice is rough and gravelly, but it’s not as cold and uncaring as it was before.
I blink and swallow again as his hand finally lands on my forearm and moves to my shoulder. It’s a quick, simple movement, but it sends a shudder through my whole body that makes me forget for a moment what I’m doing here—what we’re doing right now.
Am I just imagining all of this? Am I reading too much into the look he’s giving me? The way his strong, warm hand is gripping my shoulder?
This doesn’t feel like a boss talking to an employee… or former employee, even. It’s a hell of a lot different from the way he used to laugh and tease at my family’s backyard barbecues.
The smoldering look he’s giving me already has my cock hard, which would be distracting and unnerving under the best of circumstances. But then actually feeling his hand on my body?
Yeah, that simple touch has me nearly bursting out of the too-tight dress pants I’m wearing.
“Please, sir,” I say, willing my lip to stop trembling as I speak. “I need this—this job. I need to stay here. I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
His grip tightens, almost to the point of being painful. I wince, but I don’t try to move away. If this is some kind of test, I’m determined to pass it.
And even if I wanted to get away from him, his hot stare is relentlessly pinning me in place.
“Anything?” he asks, an eyebrow arching slightly as his look turns calculating.
I nod. “Yes,” I whisper. “Anything.”
I can’t help but let my eyes drift down past the broad expanse of his chest. It’s heaving with each shallow breath he takes, and the rhythm would be mesmerizing if it weren’t for the fact that my gaze is drawn down even further by a force that feels completely out of my control.
Even at a glance, I can see the large bulge pressing against the front of his slacks.
I step closer to him, shamelessly flattening myself against his body. He raises his other hand and grabs me by both shoulders, and for a moment I’m certain he’s going to stop me, going to push me away.
But he doesn’t.
He’s actually pulling me tighter to him.
My hands are trapped between us, and I can’t stop myself from rubbing them across the hard planes of his chest. I want more than anything to reach down and grip the hot, hard length that’s pressing insistently against my thigh, but he’s holding me so close that it really is impossible to move at the moment.
“No,” he says, his teeth audibly grinding even as his body moves against mine. “Not like this. We’re not doing this.”
It takes a moment for my brain to realize what he’s saying. It feels like we’re definitely doing something, and it definitely doesn’t feel like he wants to stop.
He does stop, though. And even though he’s still holding onto my shoulders, he pushes me back against the closed door, creating a gap of at least a foot between our bodies and making me whimper in spite of my best efforts to control myself.
I’m confused again. Have I done something wrong? His gaze and his grip have hardened, but I can tell just from looking that his cock is still hard, too.
He wants this just as much as I do—I know he does. I’m offering myself to him in the clearest way I know how, so what’s stopping him?
“I’m sorry,” I say again, simply because I must have done something wrong for him to keep looking at me like that. If I had just been on time in the first place, none of this would be happening.
Then again, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go right back to what we were doing, to press my body against his again and to feel the heat that was rolling off of him in waves.
“You need to leave,” he says, snapping me back to reality. “Now.”
He reaches for the door handle, but I move to block him, stepping closer again so that all he really ends up doing is taking me back into his arms.
“No,” I shake my head. “Please don’t send me away. Please… can we…”
My words are failing me, but I know exactly what I want.
I want Garrick.
I want to touch him, and to feel him touching me.
He’s so close that I can actually feel his breath against my skin, and I want more of that, too.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers, as if he’s reading my mind. “It would be wrong, Dusty. Your dad would never forgive me.”
He’s right, of course. My dad doesn’t even know I’m gay. To find out that I have a thing for Garrick—the man he’s done business with for practically my entire life—would be more than he could handle.
But he doesn’t need to know. And maybe we shouldn’t be doing this, but shouldn’t isn’t the same as can’t.
And if I’m being totally honest? The fact that we shouldn’t only makes it hotter.
All of these thoughts running through my head make me feel bold, and I can’t help but grin as I shake my head.
“I won’t tell him,” I say. “This can be our secret, something just between us.”
His eyes narrow, and he slowly shakes his head.
This is it.
He’s going to throw me out now.
Whatever was happening between us is over before it ever really got started.
“Fuck,” he growls, pinning me against the door. He reaches up and brushes a thumb across my bottom lip, making it tremble. “This is what you want?”
I open my mouth to speak, but he presses his thumb past my lips before I can get any words out. Nodding, I feel my eyes go wide. I can’t believe this is really happening, but oh God, please don’t let it stop.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” he says. “You can either turn around and walk out that door right now, or—” he pauses to grind his hard cock against me, pulling his thumb from my mouth to take my face in his hand, “or you can stay here and do exactly what I say.”
“Please let me stay,” I say without hesitating. “Please. I’ll do anything you say.”
My cheeks burn as the words tumble out, and I know I should be ashamed that I’m practically begging him to do dirty things to me, but I don’t care. I can already tell that he’s going to make me feel good, going to take care of me.
And I want to make him feel good, too. I already can’t get enough of the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing he can see.
Garrick steps back, and I can’t help but reach for him as he takes his hands away from me. God, my cock is aching and I want him so badly I can hardly think, but I stop myself.
I’ve promised to do anything he says, and I feel like he’s testing me… watching and waiting to see if I can keep my word.
I’ll wait as long as it takes to prove that he made the right decision by keeping me here, even though it’s almost physically painful to stand here silently while his dark eyes roam up and down my body.
“Take your shirt off,” he says, taking another step back until he’s leaning against hi
s desk. “I want to see you. All of you.”
My fingers instantly move to unfasten the buttons, and I silently curse myself as I fumble with each one. Why—oh why—did I have to wear a shirt with such tiny buttons today?
I can see the outline of his thick cock straining against the front of his slacks, and it makes this whole thing even hotter knowing that I’m doing that to him—that he’s just as turned on as I am right now.
I finally shrug out of my button-down and then quickly toss my undershirt aside. I’m standing bare-chested in front of him, and I clasp my hands in front of me to keep from fidgeting.
He shakes his head. “You’re not finished yet. Pants, too. I want you completely naked.”
He reaches down and starts rubbing himself as I finish undressing, and I can’t take my eyes off the outline of his cock. Oh my God, it’s getting even bigger as he massages it.
“You want this, don’t you?” he asks, reading my mind again.
Or maybe it’s just that I’m so focused on his cock that I’m not even trying to be discreet.
“Answer me when I ask you a question, Dusty.”
The command has me nodding instantly. “Yes, sir,” I say, dragging my eyes up to look at his face.
His face is still mostly expressionless—hard and firm and completely in control.
Except for his eyes.
They’re on fire as he watches me undress. It’s almost like he’s looking through me, and my cock twitches hard as I let my pants drop down around my ankles. All that’s separating me from being completely naked in front of him is the thin cotton fabric of my boxer briefs, and my hands are shaking as I begin to tug them down.
“That’s right,” he says, his eyes laser-focused on my crotch. “Show me, Dusty. Let me see that pretty cock of yours.”
With one quick motion, I pull my underwear down and step out of them. I remind myself to at least try and be sexy as I stand up straight in front of him. I still don’t know what to do with my hands, but my cock is so hard that I can’t help but reach for it.
