Late Nights With My Hot Boss

[StoriesByTroy]

Late Nights With My Hot Boss


Before the late nights and stolen glances, there was just an intern and his dangerously charming boss. Get to know Troy and Mr. Blake Maddox, where this slow-burn all began.

Troy: (In

tern)
27, fresh-faced and a little too curious for his own good. A twinky, nerdy intern who overthinks everything except how often he catches himself staring. Smart, loyal, and trying his best to keep things professional... even when his boss leans a little too close. Sharp ideas, soft heart, and a growing weakness for his team lead’s smile.

Mr. Blake Maddox: (Boss)
Late 30s, confident, clean-cut, always in a blazer that somehow fits just right. The kind of man who never raises his voice but still has the whole room listening. Polite, poised, and effortlessly magnetic. He stays late, works hard, and looks even better out of office hours, especially when he loosens his collar and lets the charm slip in.


-----Part 1 below-----

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Late Nights With My Hot Boss | Part 1: Meeting The Hot Boss


The elevator pinged, and I stepped out onto the 15th floor, clutching my coffee and trying not to spill it all over my freshly ironed shirt.

First day. New internship. Big firm.

I was doing my best to act like I belonged here, even though my heart was racing and my palms were already kind of sweaty.

The office was sleek. All glass and light. Warm tones, minimalist lines, people walking fast and typing faster. A soft hum of power thrumming through the space like it had somewhere important to be.


And right in the center of it all, in a navy blazer that fit like it had been sewn onto him, stood Blake Maddox.

I’d seen his name on the offer letter.

Team Lead: Blake Maddox.

I’d even Googled him, everyone did but no photo had prepared me for the way he looked in person.

Mid-to-late thirties, maybe.
Tall.
Fit in that “trains before 7 a.m.” kind of way.

His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing tanned forearms that flexed slightly every time he gestured or adjusted his watch. His jawline was sharp, clean-shaven. His brown hair was styled in a way that looked effortless. Like he just woke up like that. Expensive and off-duty.

Even the way he stood, leaned slightly against the edge of the glass conference room, arms folded, talking with someone made me pause.

And stare. For maybe too long.

“Troy?”

His voice snapped me out of it; smooth, low, and so confident it made me straighten on instinct.

He gave a small nod and stepped toward me. The other person he’d been speaking to slipped away without a word.

“Yes. Hi. I’m Troy.”

I held out my hand like a normal person (I hoped), trying not to look like I was vibrating.


He shook it, warm, firm and steady.

“Blake Maddox,” he said. “Glad you made it. Wasn’t sure if you’d get lost in the lobby.”

A slight smile curved his lips. Casual. Charming. Lethal.

I laughed too quickly. “I—I almost did, actually. The receptionist pointed me to the wrong elevator bank.”

His eyes flicked over me briefly, professionally but I swore there was something in that glance. Amusement. A flicker of interest?

No. Probably just me being… me.

“Well, we’re glad to have you.”

He motioned for me to walk with him, already in motion. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

We walked through the open layout, and I did my best to focus on what he was saying.


This department handles digital strategy.
These folks do branding.
That’s the tech team.

I nodded along like I was absorbing every word. But honestly?

I was mostly focused on him.

The way his trousers fit just right. The sharp cut of his shirt across his back. The scent he carried; something subtle, clean and masculine. Faint enough to lean in without meaning to.

“You’re staring.”

“What?” I blinked, heart lurching.

“I said, you’re quiet,” Blake repeated with a knowing smirk, like he absolutely knew I hadn’t heard a word of what he just said.

“Oh.”
My face flushed instantly. “Sorry, I’m just trying to take it all in.”

He turned his head slightly as we walked, his smile soft but amused.
“It’s a lot, I know. First days are always a little overwhelming.”

“I guess I was just admiring…”

I trailed off as the sentence died in my throat.

“The office. The design. It’s really nice.”

Blake chuckled, low in his throat. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”


My stomach flipped.
“It is,” I said quickly, too eagerly.

God, does he think I meant him?


He stopped in front of a frosted glass door and turned to face me, expression leveling.

“I’ve gone through your résumé.”

My breath caught.
Just a little.

He gave a slow nod of approval. “Impressive profile.”

I smiled, glancing at the floor for a half-second like a complete idiot.
“Thank you.”

“We’ll be working closely,” he added. “A lot of one-on-one.”

Oh.
Okay.

His tone was smooth and professional, but there was something in the way he said it like he knew what that might do to someone.

“Oh. Great,” I said. “I mean, I’m looking forward to learning.”

He smirked, resting a hand on the door handle. “Good. Just stay focused. We’ve had interns get a little… distracted before.”

My eyes went wide. Was that a joke? A warning? Both?

He pushed open the door. “This is where you’ll be stationed.”

Small desk. Right outside what I quickly realized was his office.

Of course.

“Settle in. I’ll call you in for a chat after your onboarding packet.”

“Sure thing.”

He turned to leave, then paused glancing back over his shoulder, voice suddenly lower. Playful.

“By the way,” he said, “you might want to keep your eyes on your screen, not my sleeves.”


My mouth dropped open a fraction.

“I mean,” he added, completely deadpan, “there’s a lot of information to process. Wouldn’t want you to miss something important.”

Then he winked.



Winked.

And walked away like he hadn’t just melted me from the inside out.

I stood there, pulse thumping in my ears, face flushed, trying not to melt into a puddle on the carpet.

Day one.
And this man already had me flustered beyond repair.

I finally sat down, opened my laptop, and told myself to focus.

But all I could think about was the way his shirt hugged those biceps.
The heat in his voice.
The promise behind that wink.

-----------------------

I arrived earlier than usual the next morning. Partly because I wanted to get ahead of the inbox avalanche. Mostly because…

I wanted to see him.

My olive green shirt was crisp, fitted enough to hug my chest and arms without looking like I tried. Black jeans. Clean sneakers. I told myself I dressed for the job but I knew exactly who I was dressing for.

Blake wasn’t in yet. His office was dark, his chair empty. I made a detour to the break room, grabbed my coffee, and settled in like I wasn’t pretending to check emails while waiting for him to walk in.

And then, there he was.

His reflection appeared first in the glass panel. Then his full frame. Walking through the hallway, tall and precise, blazer draped over one arm. He tossed it across the back of his chair like he’d done it a hundred times before.

And looked like he belonged on the cover of CEO Monthly.
Or GQ Corporate Edition.
Or whatever publication rich men get featured in when they don’t even have Instagram.

“Morning, Mr. Maddox,” I said casually, turning from my screen.

What I wanted to say was morning, daddy, but thank God that didn’t slip out.

He let out a soft laugh, warm and teasing.
“No, no. Just Blake. Please.”

God. Even that was hot.

He stopped beside my desk, sipping from his sleek black tumbler, forearms flexing just slightly as he adjusted his cuff.
“Looks like arm day’s paying off,” he said with a smirk, catching me mid-glance at the veiny curve of his forearm.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then blurted:
“It’s definitely working.”

And immediately wanted to drop dead.

He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
Then gave my shoulder a light tap, easy, casual, and headed into his office like nothing had happened.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of emails and stolen glances.

His office walls were glass, which didn’t help. I could see him from my seat, writing something, scrolling through his screen, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. I tried not to stare.

Failed.

He looked up once.
Caught me.
And smiled.

That’s when it started.

Small things. Subtle.

Mid-afternoon, he came over to review a slide deck, stood beside me, and adjusted my tie while talking. His fingers brushed the fabric lightly, smoothing it. His touch lingered a second too long.

“This should lie flatter,” he murmured.

Then stepped back. “Perfect.”

Later, I ran into one of the IT guys - Jordan by the water cooler. He struck up a friendly chat, eyes lingering just a bit too long on my mouth when I smiled.

We were mid-laugh when Blake walked by.
He didn’t say anything.
But his eyes flicked between us. Noted. Filed.


The next day?

Jordan wouldn’t make eye contact.

And my calendar?
Let’s just say it looked… different.


I’d been reassigned. “Urgent cross-departmental projects.” Shadowing Blake directly. Sitting beside him all week.

No complaints.
But the message was clear.

He noticed everything.

_________________________________

Part 2: After Hours Assignment

All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

 

[BobbinOnDix]

Late Nights With My Hot Boss | Part 1: Meeting The Hot Boss


The elevator pinged, and I stepped out onto the 15th floor, clutching my coffee and trying not to spill it all over my freshly ironed shirt.

First day. New internship. Big firm.

I was doing my best to act like I belonged here, even though my heart was racing and my palms were already kind of sweaty.

The office was sleek. All glass and light. Warm tones, minimalist lines, people walking fast and typing faster. A soft hum of power thrumming through the space like it had somewhere important to be.


And right in the center of it all, in a navy blazer that fit like it had been sewn onto him, stood Blake Maddox.

I’d seen his name on the offer letter.



I’d even Googled him, everyone did but no photo had prepared me for the way he looked in person.

Mid-to-late thirties, maybe.
Tall.
Fit in that “trains before 7 a.m.” kind of way.

His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing tanned forearms that flexed slightly every time he gestured or adjusted his watch. His jawline was sharp, clean-shaven. His brown hair was styled in a way that looked effortless. Like he just woke up like that. Expensive and off-duty.

Even the way he stood, leaned slightly against the edge of the glass conference room, arms folded, talking with someone made me pause.

And stare. For maybe too long.

“Troy?”

His voice snapped me out of it; smooth, low, and so confident it made me straighten on instinct.

He gave a small nod and stepped toward me. The other person he’d been speaking to slipped away without a word.

“Yes. Hi. I’m Troy.”

I held out my hand like a normal person (I hoped), trying not to look like I was vibrating.


He shook it, warm, firm and steady.

“Blake Maddox,” he said. “Glad you made it. Wasn’t sure if you’d get lost in the lobby.”

A slight smile curved his lips. Casual. Charming. Lethal.

I laughed too quickly. “I—I almost did, actually. The receptionist pointed me to the wrong elevator bank.”

His eyes flicked over me briefly, professionally but I swore there was something in that glance. Amusement. A flicker of interest?

No. Probably just me being… me.

“Well, we’re glad to have you.”

He motioned for me to walk with him, already in motion. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

We walked through the open layout, and I did my best to focus on what he was saying.


This department handles digital strategy.
These folks do branding.
That’s the tech team.

I nodded along like I was absorbing every word. But honestly?

I was mostly focused on him.

The way his trousers fit just right. The sharp cut of his shirt across his back. The scent he carried; something subtle, clean and masculine. Faint enough to lean in without meaning to.

“You’re staring.”

“What?” I blinked, heart lurching.

“I said, you’re quiet,” Blake repeated with a knowing smirk, like he absolutely knew I hadn’t heard a word of what he just said.

“Oh.”
My face flushed instantly. “Sorry, I’m just trying to take it all in.”

He turned his head slightly as we walked, his smile soft but amused.
“It’s a lot, I know. First days are always a little overwhelming.”

“I guess I was just admiring…”

I trailed off as the sentence died in my throat.

“The office. The design. It’s really nice.”

Blake chuckled, low in his throat. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”


My stomach flipped.
“It is,” I said quickly, too eagerly.

God, does he think I meant him?


He stopped in front of a frosted glass door and turned to face me, expression leveling.

“I’ve gone through your résumé.”

My breath caught.
Just a little.

He gave a slow nod of approval. “Impressive profile.”

I smiled, glancing at the floor for a half-second like a complete idiot.
“Thank you.”

“We’ll be working closely,” he added. “A lot of one-on-one.”


His tone was smooth and professional, but there was something in the way he said it like he knew what that might do to someone.

“Oh. Great,” I said. “I mean, I’m looking forward to learning.”

He smirked, resting a hand on the door handle. “Good. Just stay focused. We’ve had interns get a little… distracted before.”

My eyes went wide. Was that a joke? A warning? Both?

He pushed open the door. “This is where you’ll be stationed.”

Small desk. Right outside what I quickly realized was his office.

Of course.

“Settle in. I’ll call you in for a chat after your onboarding packet.”

“Sure thing.”

He turned to leave, then paused glancing back over his shoulder, voice suddenly lower. Playful.

“By the way,” he said, “you might want to keep your eyes on your screen, not my sleeves.”


My mouth dropped open a fraction.

“I mean,” he added, completely deadpan, “there’s a lot of information to process. Wouldn’t want you to miss something important.”

Then he winked.



Winked.

And walked away like he hadn’t just melted me from the inside out.

I stood there, pulse thumping in my ears, face flushed, trying not to melt into a puddle on the carpet.

Day one.
And this man already had me flustered beyond repair.

I finally sat down, opened my laptop, and told myself to focus.

But all I could think about was the way his shirt hugged those biceps.
The heat in his voice.
The promise behind that wink.

-----------------------

I arrived earlier than usual the next morning. Partly because I wanted to get ahead of the inbox avalanche. Mostly because…

I wanted to see him.

My olive green shirt was crisp, fitted enough to hug my chest and arms without looking like I tried. Black jeans. Clean sneakers. I told myself I dressed for the job but I knew exactly who I was dressing for.

Blake wasn’t in yet. His office was dark, his chair empty. I made a detour to the break room, grabbed my coffee, and settled in like I wasn’t pretending to check emails while waiting for him to walk in.

And then, there he was.

His reflection appeared first in the glass panel. Then his full frame. Walking through the hallway, tall and precise, blazer draped over one arm. He tossed it across the back of his chair like he’d done it a hundred times before.

And looked like he belonged on the cover of CEO Monthly.
Or GQ Corporate Edition.
Or whatever publication rich men get featured in when they don’t even have Instagram.

“Morning, Mr. Maddox,” I said casually, turning from my screen.

What I wanted to say was morning, daddy, but thank God that didn’t slip out.

He let out a soft laugh, warm and teasing.
“No, no. Just Blake. Please.”

God. Even that was hot.

He stopped beside my desk, sipping from his sleek black tumbler, forearms flexing just slightly as he adjusted his cuff.
“Looks like arm day’s paying off,” he said with a smirk, catching me mid-glance at the veiny curve of his forearm.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then blurted:
“It’s definitely working.”

And immediately wanted to drop dead.

He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
Then gave my shoulder a light tap, easy, casual, and headed into his office like nothing had happened.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of emails and stolen glances.

His office walls were glass, which didn’t help. I could see him from my seat, writing something, scrolling through his screen, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. I tried not to stare.

Failed.

He looked up once.
Caught me.
And smiled.

That’s when it started.

Small things. Subtle.

Mid-afternoon, he came over to review a slide deck, stood beside me, and adjusted my tie while talking. His fingers brushed the fabric lightly, smoothing it. His touch lingered a second too long.

“This should lie flatter,” he murmured.

Then stepped back. “Perfect.”

Later, I ran into one of the IT guys - Jordan by the water cooler. He struck up a friendly chat, eyes lingering just a bit too long on my mouth when I smiled.

We were mid-laugh when Blake walked by.
He didn’t say anything.
But his eyes flicked between us. Noted. Filed.


The next day?

Jordan wouldn’t make eye contact.

And my calendar?
Let’s just say it looked… different.


I’d been reassigned. “Urgent cross-departmental projects.” Shadowing Blake directly. Sitting beside him all week.

No complaints.
But the message was clear.

He noticed everything.

_________________________________

Part 2: After Hours Assignment

All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

Great story! Following

 

[alan882324]

Late Nights With My Hot Boss | Part 1: Meeting The Hot Boss


The elevator pinged, and I stepped out onto the 15th floor, clutching my coffee and trying not to spill it all over my freshly ironed shirt.

First day. New internship. Big firm.

I was doing my best to act like I belonged here, even though my heart was racing and my palms were already kind of sweaty.

The office was sleek. All glass and light. Warm tones, minimalist lines, people walking fast and typing faster. A soft hum of power thrumming through the space like it had somewhere important to be.


And right in the center of it all, in a navy blazer that fit like it had been sewn onto him, stood Blake Maddox.

I’d seen his name on the offer letter.



I’d even Googled him, everyone did but no photo had prepared me for the way he looked in person.

Mid-to-late thirties, maybe.
Tall.
Fit in that “trains before 7 a.m.” kind of way.

His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing tanned forearms that flexed slightly every time he gestured or adjusted his watch. His jawline was sharp, clean-shaven. His brown hair was styled in a way that looked effortless. Like he just woke up like that. Expensive and off-duty.

Even the way he stood, leaned slightly against the edge of the glass conference room, arms folded, talking with someone made me pause.

And stare. For maybe too long.

“Troy?”

His voice snapped me out of it; smooth, low, and so confident it made me straighten on instinct.

He gave a small nod and stepped toward me. The other person he’d been speaking to slipped away without a word.

“Yes. Hi. I’m Troy.”

I held out my hand like a normal person (I hoped), trying not to look like I was vibrating.


He shook it, warm, firm and steady.

“Blake Maddox,” he said. “Glad you made it. Wasn’t sure if you’d get lost in the lobby.”

A slight smile curved his lips. Casual. Charming. Lethal.

I laughed too quickly. “I—I almost did, actually. The receptionist pointed me to the wrong elevator bank.”

His eyes flicked over me briefly, professionally but I swore there was something in that glance. Amusement. A flicker of interest?

No. Probably just me being… me.

“Well, we’re glad to have you.”

He motioned for me to walk with him, already in motion. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

We walked through the open layout, and I did my best to focus on what he was saying.


This department handles digital strategy.
These folks do branding.
That’s the tech team.

I nodded along like I was absorbing every word. But honestly?

I was mostly focused on him.

The way his trousers fit just right. The sharp cut of his shirt across his back. The scent he carried; something subtle, clean and masculine. Faint enough to lean in without meaning to.

“You’re staring.”

“What?” I blinked, heart lurching.

“I said, you’re quiet,” Blake repeated with a knowing smirk, like he absolutely knew I hadn’t heard a word of what he just said.

“Oh.”
My face flushed instantly. “Sorry, I’m just trying to take it all in.”

He turned his head slightly as we walked, his smile soft but amused.
“It’s a lot, I know. First days are always a little overwhelming.”

“I guess I was just admiring…”

I trailed off as the sentence died in my throat.

“The office. The design. It’s really nice.”

Blake chuckled, low in his throat. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”


My stomach flipped.
“It is,” I said quickly, too eagerly.

God, does he think I meant him?


He stopped in front of a frosted glass door and turned to face me, expression leveling.

“I’ve gone through your résumé.”

My breath caught.
Just a little.

He gave a slow nod of approval. “Impressive profile.”

I smiled, glancing at the floor for a half-second like a complete idiot.
“Thank you.”

“We’ll be working closely,” he added. “A lot of one-on-one.”


His tone was smooth and professional, but there was something in the way he said it like he knew what that might do to someone.

“Oh. Great,” I said. “I mean, I’m looking forward to learning.”

He smirked, resting a hand on the door handle. “Good. Just stay focused. We’ve had interns get a little… distracted before.”

My eyes went wide. Was that a joke? A warning? Both?

He pushed open the door. “This is where you’ll be stationed.”

Small desk. Right outside what I quickly realized was his office.

Of course.

“Settle in. I’ll call you in for a chat after your onboarding packet.”

“Sure thing.”

He turned to leave, then paused glancing back over his shoulder, voice suddenly lower. Playful.

“By the way,” he said, “you might want to keep your eyes on your screen, not my sleeves.”


My mouth dropped open a fraction.

“I mean,” he added, completely deadpan, “there’s a lot of information to process. Wouldn’t want you to miss something important.”

Then he winked.



Winked.

And walked away like he hadn’t just melted me from the inside out.

I stood there, pulse thumping in my ears, face flushed, trying not to melt into a puddle on the carpet.

Day one.
And this man already had me flustered beyond repair.

I finally sat down, opened my laptop, and told myself to focus.

But all I could think about was the way his shirt hugged those biceps.
The heat in his voice.
The promise behind that wink.

-----------------------

I arrived earlier than usual the next morning. Partly because I wanted to get ahead of the inbox avalanche. Mostly because…

I wanted to see him.

My olive green shirt was crisp, fitted enough to hug my chest and arms without looking like I tried. Black jeans. Clean sneakers. I told myself I dressed for the job but I knew exactly who I was dressing for.

Blake wasn’t in yet. His office was dark, his chair empty. I made a detour to the break room, grabbed my coffee, and settled in like I wasn’t pretending to check emails while waiting for him to walk in.

And then, there he was.

His reflection appeared first in the glass panel. Then his full frame. Walking through the hallway, tall and precise, blazer draped over one arm. He tossed it across the back of his chair like he’d done it a hundred times before.

And looked like he belonged on the cover of CEO Monthly.
Or GQ Corporate Edition.
Or whatever publication rich men get featured in when they don’t even have Instagram.

“Morning, Mr. Maddox,” I said casually, turning from my screen.

What I wanted to say was morning, daddy, but thank God that didn’t slip out.

He let out a soft laugh, warm and teasing.
“No, no. Just Blake. Please.”

God. Even that was hot.

He stopped beside my desk, sipping from his sleek black tumbler, forearms flexing just slightly as he adjusted his cuff.
“Looks like arm day’s paying off,” he said with a smirk, catching me mid-glance at the veiny curve of his forearm.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then blurted:
“It’s definitely working.”

And immediately wanted to drop dead.

He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
Then gave my shoulder a light tap, easy, casual, and headed into his office like nothing had happened.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of emails and stolen glances.

His office walls were glass, which didn’t help. I could see him from my seat, writing something, scrolling through his screen, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. I tried not to stare.

Failed.

He looked up once.
Caught me.
And smiled.

That’s when it started.

Small things. Subtle.

Mid-afternoon, he came over to review a slide deck, stood beside me, and adjusted my tie while talking. His fingers brushed the fabric lightly, smoothing it. His touch lingered a second too long.

“This should lie flatter,” he murmured.

Then stepped back. “Perfect.”

Later, I ran into one of the IT guys - Jordan by the water cooler. He struck up a friendly chat, eyes lingering just a bit too long on my mouth when I smiled.

We were mid-laugh when Blake walked by.
He didn’t say anything.
But his eyes flicked between us. Noted. Filed.


The next day?

Jordan wouldn’t make eye contact.

And my calendar?
Let’s just say it looked… different.


I’d been reassigned. “Urgent cross-departmental projects.” Shadowing Blake directly. Sitting beside him all week.

No complaints.
But the message was clear.

He noticed everything.

_________________________________

Part 2: After Hours Assignment

All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

Ohh obsessive and possessive hot boss. I like where this is going

 

[fmbttm]

Late Nights With My Hot Boss | Part 1: Meeting The Hot Boss


The elevator pinged, and I stepped out onto the 15th floor, clutching my coffee and trying not to spill it all over my freshly ironed shirt.

First day. New internship. Big firm.

I was doing my best to act like I belonged here, even though my heart was racing and my palms were already kind of sweaty.

The office was sleek. All glass and light. Warm tones, minimalist lines, people walking fast and typing faster. A soft hum of power thrumming through the space like it had somewhere important to be.


And right in the center of it all, in a navy blazer that fit like it had been sewn onto him, stood Blake Maddox.

I’d seen his name on the offer letter.



I’d even Googled him, everyone did but no photo had prepared me for the way he looked in person.

Mid-to-late thirties, maybe.
Tall.
Fit in that “trains before 7 a.m.” kind of way.

His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing tanned forearms that flexed slightly every time he gestured or adjusted his watch. His jawline was sharp, clean-shaven. His brown hair was styled in a way that looked effortless. Like he just woke up like that. Expensive and off-duty.

Even the way he stood, leaned slightly against the edge of the glass conference room, arms folded, talking with someone made me pause.

And stare. For maybe too long.

“Troy?”

His voice snapped me out of it; smooth, low, and so confident it made me straighten on instinct.

He gave a small nod and stepped toward me. The other person he’d been speaking to slipped away without a word.

“Yes. Hi. I’m Troy.”

I held out my hand like a normal person (I hoped), trying not to look like I was vibrating.


He shook it, warm, firm and steady.

“Blake Maddox,” he said. “Glad you made it. Wasn’t sure if you’d get lost in the lobby.”

A slight smile curved his lips. Casual. Charming. Lethal.

I laughed too quickly. “I—I almost did, actually. The receptionist pointed me to the wrong elevator bank.”

His eyes flicked over me briefly, professionally but I swore there was something in that glance. Amusement. A flicker of interest?

No. Probably just me being… me.

“Well, we’re glad to have you.”

He motioned for me to walk with him, already in motion. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

We walked through the open layout, and I did my best to focus on what he was saying.


This department handles digital strategy.
These folks do branding.
That’s the tech team.

I nodded along like I was absorbing every word. But honestly?

I was mostly focused on him.

The way his trousers fit just right. The sharp cut of his shirt across his back. The scent he carried; something subtle, clean and masculine. Faint enough to lean in without meaning to.

“You’re staring.”

“What?” I blinked, heart lurching.

“I said, you’re quiet,” Blake repeated with a knowing smirk, like he absolutely knew I hadn’t heard a word of what he just said.

“Oh.”
My face flushed instantly. “Sorry, I’m just trying to take it all in.”

He turned his head slightly as we walked, his smile soft but amused.
“It’s a lot, I know. First days are always a little overwhelming.”

“I guess I was just admiring…”

I trailed off as the sentence died in my throat.

“The office. The design. It’s really nice.”

Blake chuckled, low in his throat. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”


My stomach flipped.
“It is,” I said quickly, too eagerly.

God, does he think I meant him?


He stopped in front of a frosted glass door and turned to face me, expression leveling.

“I’ve gone through your résumé.”

My breath caught.
Just a little.

He gave a slow nod of approval. “Impressive profile.”

I smiled, glancing at the floor for a half-second like a complete idiot.
“Thank you.”

“We’ll be working closely,” he added. “A lot of one-on-one.”


His tone was smooth and professional, but there was something in the way he said it like he knew what that might do to someone.

“Oh. Great,” I said. “I mean, I’m looking forward to learning.”

He smirked, resting a hand on the door handle. “Good. Just stay focused. We’ve had interns get a little… distracted before.”

My eyes went wide. Was that a joke? A warning? Both?

He pushed open the door. “This is where you’ll be stationed.”

Small desk. Right outside what I quickly realized was his office.

Of course.

“Settle in. I’ll call you in for a chat after your onboarding packet.”

“Sure thing.”

He turned to leave, then paused glancing back over his shoulder, voice suddenly lower. Playful.

“By the way,” he said, “you might want to keep your eyes on your screen, not my sleeves.”


My mouth dropped open a fraction.

“I mean,” he added, completely deadpan, “there’s a lot of information to process. Wouldn’t want you to miss something important.”

Then he winked.



Winked.

And walked away like he hadn’t just melted me from the inside out.

I stood there, pulse thumping in my ears, face flushed, trying not to melt into a puddle on the carpet.

Day one.
And this man already had me flustered beyond repair.

I finally sat down, opened my laptop, and told myself to focus.

But all I could think about was the way his shirt hugged those biceps.
The heat in his voice.
The promise behind that wink.

-----------------------

I arrived earlier than usual the next morning. Partly because I wanted to get ahead of the inbox avalanche. Mostly because…

I wanted to see him.

My olive green shirt was crisp, fitted enough to hug my chest and arms without looking like I tried. Black jeans. Clean sneakers. I told myself I dressed for the job but I knew exactly who I was dressing for.

Blake wasn’t in yet. His office was dark, his chair empty. I made a detour to the break room, grabbed my coffee, and settled in like I wasn’t pretending to check emails while waiting for him to walk in.

And then, there he was.

His reflection appeared first in the glass panel. Then his full frame. Walking through the hallway, tall and precise, blazer draped over one arm. He tossed it across the back of his chair like he’d done it a hundred times before.

And looked like he belonged on the cover of CEO Monthly.
Or GQ Corporate Edition.
Or whatever publication rich men get featured in when they don’t even have Instagram.

“Morning, Mr. Maddox,” I said casually, turning from my screen.

What I wanted to say was morning, daddy, but thank God that didn’t slip out.

He let out a soft laugh, warm and teasing.
“No, no. Just Blake. Please.”

God. Even that was hot.

He stopped beside my desk, sipping from his sleek black tumbler, forearms flexing just slightly as he adjusted his cuff.
“Looks like arm day’s paying off,” he said with a smirk, catching me mid-glance at the veiny curve of his forearm.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then blurted:
“It’s definitely working.”

And immediately wanted to drop dead.

He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
Then gave my shoulder a light tap, easy, casual, and headed into his office like nothing had happened.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of emails and stolen glances.

His office walls were glass, which didn’t help. I could see him from my seat, writing something, scrolling through his screen, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. I tried not to stare.

Failed.

He looked up once.
Caught me.
And smiled.

That’s when it started.

Small things. Subtle.

Mid-afternoon, he came over to review a slide deck, stood beside me, and adjusted my tie while talking. His fingers brushed the fabric lightly, smoothing it. His touch lingered a second too long.

“This should lie flatter,” he murmured.

Then stepped back. “Perfect.”

Later, I ran into one of the IT guys - Jordan by the water cooler. He struck up a friendly chat, eyes lingering just a bit too long on my mouth when I smiled.

We were mid-laugh when Blake walked by.
He didn’t say anything.
But his eyes flicked between us. Noted. Filed.


The next day?

Jordan wouldn’t make eye contact.

And my calendar?
Let’s just say it looked… different.


I’d been reassigned. “Urgent cross-departmental projects.” Shadowing Blake directly. Sitting beside him all week.

No complaints.
But the message was clear.

He noticed everything.

_________________________________

Part 2: After Hours Assignment

All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

The “morning, daddy” took me out!

Amazing start as usual!

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Late Nights With My Hot Boss | Part 2: After Hours Assignment

By Thursday night, we were the last ones left in the office. Most of the team had packed up hours ago; desks emptied, coats gone, goodbyes mumbled as people escaped toward dinner plans or half-committed gym intentions.

The lights had dimmed to that half-lit after-hours glow, where everything looked softer, quieter. More private.

I was still saving files to our shared drive, trying not to glance across the floor every thirty seconds. But he was hard to ignore.

Blake was at his desk, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, tie loosened just enough to suggest the day had worn on him, but not enough to make him look anything less than completely in control. He still looked maddeningly put-together. Hair perfect. Jaw sharp in the soft monitor light. His fingers moved fast over the keys like he’d memorized the keyboard years ago and hadn’t slowed down since.

I hovered at his doorway for a moment, unsure if I was interrupting but needing to say something.

“You always stay this late?” I asked, my voice quiet, casual, but a little too breathy as it came out.

He glanced up, met my eyes with a slow, deliberate smile. “Only when I’m working with someone interesting.”

My throat went dry.

There was a pause. A charged kind of silence that filled the space between us like something heavy. Like heat.

He stood and walked toward me..not rushed, not stiff. Just confident. Like he was sure of the ground beneath him. Like he moved through rooms expecting them to shift for him.

His hand slid lightly to my lower back as he leaned in to glance at the screen behind me, and my breath hitched. Not inappropriate. Not quite. But close.

The warmth of his palm sent a slow, pulsing heat through my spine.

“You’re picking things up fast,” he said near my ear, voice low and even. “I’m impressed by what you’ve done in just a few days.”

I swallowed. “Thanks, I’ve just been trying to—”

“I’ve assigned you to assist me directly on a few upcoming projects,” he said, cutting me off gently. Like the decision was final. Like I didn’t need to speak, I just needed to show up. “Starting tomorrow.”

Before I could ask what that meant, he added with a small, half-smirk that hit way harder than it should have, “Swing by my office after hours tomorrow. I’ve got something for you to work on.”

Then, just as he turned away..he glanced back. A glance that felt anything but casual.

“I hope you’re free. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. I want to assign it to you personally.”


“Okay,” I said, and it came out softer than I intended. A little too honest.


He paused, lips twitching. “Don’t be late.”

And then he turned back toward his desk, just like that, leaving me standing in his doorway, pulse roaring in my ears.


What the hell was happening?


----------------------

Friday had a different kind of hush to it. The office wasn’t empty, but the air felt slower..like everyone’s minds were already halfway into their weekends. Voices were quieter. Footsteps more relaxed.

I was at my cubicle, typing up a report, pretending not to glance toward Blake’s office every two minutes.

Trying. Failing.

“Big weekend plans?” one of the guys from finance asked as he walked past, clutching a coffee like it was keeping him upright.

I gave a polite shrug. “Yeah...friend’s gender reveal thing tomorrow morning. I’ll probably swing by the office later in the day.”

Which was true. But also a lie.
Because ever since Blake said swing by my office after hours, I’d been walking around like I had a secret pressed against my chest.

By 6:00 p.m., most of the lights were off. Desks deserted. The hum of the air vents was louder than any conversation.

Minutes went by and I was still pretending to answer emails, but my calendar pinged:

Meeting with Mr. Blake Maddox – 6:45 PM

My stomach flipped.

I stood up, smoothing the front of my black shirt, nothing too flashy, but paired with dark grey slacks and polished shoes, I felt… sharp. Not corporate-sharp. Something more like I hope he notices.

The hallway was quiet as I walked toward his office. His door was cracked open, soft light spilling through like something intimate.

I stepped inside just as he turned around, giving me a warm, apologetic smile. His tie was already halfway loosened.

“Hey,” he said. “Thanks for staying back. I know it's a Friday and you're the intern. Not exactly the dream setup.”

“It’s alright,” I said, smiling. “Happy to help.”


“I’ve got a dinner thing tonight,” he added, walking casually around the room, checking his phone, opening drawers.
“Client-related. Boring. But I wanted to get this to you first, it’s a project we’re fast-tracking.”


He paused mid-step, eyes flicking toward the hallway.

“You’ve been doing solid work, Troy. And I trust you’ll handle it well.”

Then, casually, like it was nothing, he walked over and closed the door.


“Last time someone barged in here while I was changing,” he said with a quiet laugh. “Don’t want that again, especially not with half the marketing girls still lingering around.”

I laughed too...too fast. “N-not at all,” I said.


He turned his back to me and pulled at his tie, sliding the silk free with a smooth flick of his fingers. He draped it over the back of a chair.

“I really appreciate you taking this on,” he said, unbuttoning the top of his shirt turning towards me, exposing just the slightest hint of chest. “Most people mentally check out by Friday noon.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d stick around,” I managed, keeping my tone even. “Honestly, anything to get more hands-on work. Plus, the office is kind of peaceful when it’s quiet like this.”

Another button undone.

Then another.

The shirt parted slowly down the middle, revealing warm, tanned skin and the kind of chest that came from a lot of mornings in the gym and a serious relationship with his protein intake. His torso looked carved..broad, smooth, the kind of body that didn't quite belong in a suit but looked annoyingly good in one.

He kept talking like it was normal. “You’ll be working on the initial draft for a pitch we’re giving next week. It’s not final, more of a foundation for the creative team. You’ll find the brief inside, plus some examples we’ve used before.”



He was undoing his cuffs now, rolling them back before slipping the shirt fully off.



I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard.


He moved toward the cabinet, grabbing a clean shirt from a hanger and that’s when the waistband of his pants dipped, just enough to flash the black elastic of his underwear.

The band sat low across his hips, hugging him perfectly. It was one second. Maybe less.

He pulled on a dark green, collarless shirt...tailored to perfection, soft enough to cling to every right place. His biceps flexed subtly as he adjusted the sleeves, smoothing the fabric across his chest.

I blinked too late.

He caught me looking.

“Everything alright?” he asked, voice gentle, lips quirking.

“Y-yeah. All good,” I said, clearing my throat. “So, uh… just get a first draft in shape by tomorrow?”

“Preferably by tomorrow afternoon,” he said, stepping forward to hand me the folder. “You’re the only person I can count on to get it started properly. Half the team’s going to be in and out with personal stuff tomorrow.”

I nodded, taking the folder like it was a precious relic.

“Actually...Mr. Maddox..” I started, then caught myself. “Sorry. Blake. I meant to mention...I’ve got a friend’s thing in the morning. I’ll be back by the afternoon, just a bit later than usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Friend’s thing?”

“A gender reveal,” I said. “Confetti cannons and everything. It’s… a lot.”

He chuckled. “Sounds chaotic. But this makes it tricky.”

I hesitated, shifting the folder in my hands. “I was thinking, I could maybe work on it tonight? I mean, I don’t have plans. No exciting dinner. Just me and probably a frozen pizza.”

That made him smile. Not the polite one. The real one. “You sure?”

“Totally. Might be better, actually. No distractions.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at me. A long, thoughtful pause.

“Alright,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Happy to help.”

“Thanks again, Troy. Really.”

He adjusted the cuffs of his new shirt, the fabric stretching slightly over his forearms. Then he grabbed his coat from the hook, smoothing a hand through his hair. Everything about him looked too clean, too sharp. Like he’d walked out of an ad and just happened to be standing here, letting me orbit around him.

I stepped out of his office and closed the door behind me.

Then I walked back to my desk, folder clutched tight to my chest, heart racing.

I sat, placed it gently down, and stared at my reflection in the dark office window. I hadn’t opened the folder yet.


All I could think about was the curve of his waist. The way his voice lowered when he said Don't be late. The way he caught me looking and didn’t look away.

Yeah.

I was definitely working late tonight.

_________________________________

Part 3: Late Nights & Takeout

All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

 

[alan882324]

Daymn I thought Blake was gon do something more raunchy to Troy lol guess I gotta be patient

 

[shutterer76]

Hmmmmmm. Sexy hot

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Part 3: Late Nights & Takeout

7:15 p.m.

I was at my desk, trying to work, but it was hopeless.

The folder Mr. Blake had given me was open, the draft doc blinking on my screen but all I could think about was how ridiculously good he looked heading out for that dinner. That dark green shirt. The way it clung to his chest like it belonged there. And worse, the memory of him casually peeling off his white dress shirt earlier, abs tight and golden under the fluorescents. I hadn’t seen that coming. I hadn’t recovered from it either.

I let out a sigh and dragged my hands down my face.

Focus, Troy. Focus

I hadn’t recovered.

Not even close.

Blake’s office door was still half open. Every so often, I caught the faint click of his keyboard, a shuffle of papers, a soft chair creak. He hadn’t left yet. Probably wrapping up a few things before heading out.

But then, his voice.

It cut through the hallway like a blade.

“What do you mean?”

It was low. sharp. Through the wall.
Not angry exactly. Controlled. Which somehow made it worse.

I looked up.

Through the glass, I could see him pacing behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear. His brows were drawn tight, his jaw locked. His silhouette looked tense—coiled, like something inside him was about to snap.

“No, we cleared that already.”
“…Then why did I block off half my week for this?”
“…Right. That would’ve been nice to know before today.”

He stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair, visibly exhaling. He looked frustrated in a way I hadn’t seen before. Still poised. Still polished. But barely.

When the call ended with a clipped “Yeah. Got it,” he tossed his phone on the desk and dropped into his chair with a groan.

A few seconds passed. Then I stood and padded quietly down the hallway.


I knocked on the frame. “Hey… everything okay?”

He looked up, surprised to see me there. His expression softened just a bit. “Shit. Sorry. Was I that loud?”

“Just a little,” I said with a smile, stepping inside.

He leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Client canceled. Whole dinner. Apparently, they’re going with another firm. Didn’t bother letting me know until tonight. Total waste of a day.”

“Jeez. That sucks.”

He nodded. “Not even about the pitch, honestly. It’s the time. I blocked off hours for them this week. Could’ve used that for other accounts.”

I stayed quiet, letting the weight of it settle.

Then he looked at me again, steadier now. “Anyway. How’s the work going?”

“Good,” I said, quickly straightening. “Getting a feel for it. Started framing out a draft.”

He tapped his fingers on the armrest, then glanced at his monitor.
“You know what… since I’m not going anywhere tonight, and you’re still working—grab your laptop and the packet. Come in here. We’ll knock some of it out together.”


My stomach flipped. “You sure, Mr. Maddox?”

“Absolutely, Troy", He nodded toward the chair beside him.
“I’ve got a CEO deck to finish anyway. Let me give you some company.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Be right back, Sir.”

I practically jogged to my desk, gathering my laptop, folder, charger, everything then tried not to sprint back down the hallway.

When I stepped inside his office again, he was seated behind his desk, sleeves rolled up now, forearms on display, the green shirt hugging his torso in the most unfair way.

I moved toward the chair across from him, but he looked up and shook his head.

“No no,” he said, gesturing beside him. “Sit here. Easier to work together that way.”

“Right,” I said, voice tight as I pulled the chair close. “Makes sense.”

The next hour passed fast. We fell into a surprisingly easy rhythm—me working on the draft, him flipping between his slide deck and my screen, offering quick edits. Every now and then, he’d lean over, and I had to consciously stop my breath from catching when his arm brushed mine.

At some point, he loosened the top button of that shirt. No tie. Just skin and collarbone, a soft indent at his throat.

By 9 PM, he leaned back with a stretch and a groan. “Jesus. Where’d the time go?”

I blinked. “Wait - it’s 9 PM already?”

“Yep,” he said, cracking his neck. “And still no dinner.”

I smiled. “Guess we earned a frozen pizza each.”

“Not happening,” he said. “Let me order something. My treat.”

“Oh..no, Mr. Blake, you don’t have to...”

“I want to. I insist,” he said, grabbing his phone. “You’ve been a good sport, staying this late. I’m at least getting you food.” "My treat"

I gave in. “Okay. Chinese?”

His mouth quirked. “Now we’re talking.”

Twenty minutes later, we were both hunched over takeout boxes at his desk. The air smelled like soy sauce and sesame oil. Blake passed me chopsticks and undid his cuffs, rolling them higher up his forearms like he was getting comfortable.

“This is nice,” he said casually, “even if the night didn’t go how I planned.”

“Same,” I admitted. “I figured I’d be home by now. In sweats. Eating cereal.”

He chuckled. “Instead, you get me. And dumplings.”

“Pretty decent upgrade.”

I reached for the noodles, catching a long strand and slurping it into my container, trying not to make a mess. Of course, I failed.


“You’ve got some on you,” he said, nodding toward my face. “Right here.”
I lifted a hand, but he stopped me. “Hang on..I got it.”

Before I could react, his thumb was at the corner of my mouth. A slow, gentle swipe. It lingered.

The pad of his thumb was warm. His hand smelled faintly like cologne and soy sauce. His eyes were on mine—focused, unreadable, so close I could see the green flecks in the brown.

“You missed a spot,” he murmured.

I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The silence thickened.

And then, his thumb drifted just a little lower. Barely touching the edge of my bottom lip. Like he was debating something. Like he wanted to say something he wasn’t ready to speak aloud.


I held my breath.

I thought… I thought he was going to kiss me.

So I leaned in. Just a little. Just enough to kiss him.

His eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back up.

And then, gently, he pulled away. “Okay,” he said quickly. “Let’s, uh...get back to it. We still have a bit to get through.”

My heart crashed.

“Oh my god,” I muttered, turning back to my food like it could save me from the heat climbing up my neck. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Maddox.”


“Hey,” he said softly, “Troy, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He said it like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it hadn’t just shaken something loose between us.

The next few minutes were weird. Quiet. Carefully casual. He made a joke about always spilling soy sauce, and I laughed—maybe too hard. But it helped. The awkwardness started to fade.



We kept working. Talked about weekend plans. He mentioned visiting his brother in Brooklyn.

“You into basketball?” I asked.

He grinned. “Not really. But my brother is. So I pretend.”

I loved how warm he was when he talked about his family. How easy it felt, even after what almost happened.

By the time we wrapped up, it was past ten. The building was dead quiet—just fluorescent hum and our keyboards slowing down.

We stood and started gathering our things. I walked back to my cubicle to get my bag, trying not to feel the thousand thoughts spiraling in my chest.

We both stood and started packing up. I headed back to my cubicle to grab my bag, trying to walk like a normal person and not someone who’d just tried to kiss their boss thirty minutes ago.

I slung the strap over my shoulder, avoided the hallway mirrors, and made my way to the elevator. My heart was still thudding from that almost-moment. The thumb on my lip. The pause. The pullback.



I just needed to get out of the building. Get home. Pretend I hadn’t made a complete idiot of myself.



When I reached the elevator, I pressed the button for the ground floor.
The doors slid open. I stepped inside and turned to face forward, jaw tight.


As they started to close, I exhaled. Quietly. Like I could let the whole night go with one breath.

But just before the doors shut, a hand slipped in.

They jerked back open.

And there he was.

Blake.

Tie-less. Shirt wrinkled. Eyes soft.

He stepped inside.
Stood beside me.

Just smiled.

Like maybe the night wasn’t over after all.


_________________________________

Part 4: The Drive That Changed Everything


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

 

[shutterer76]

Nicely written

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Part 4: The Drive That Changed Everything

Just before the elevator doors shut, a hand slipped in to stop them and Blake stepped in beside me.

He gave me a look that was impossible to read. “Didn’t think you’d sneak out without me.”

I smiled..barely. “Just heading home, Blake.”

He reached out to press the button for the basement, but before he could, I leaned in and hit it myself.

Our hands touched. Just for a second. Bare skin against skin. Nothing that would’ve meant anything to someone else.


But to me?
It was everything.

My heart skipped so sharply I thought he’d hear it.

He glanced at me and smiled. “Thanks, Troy”

The elevator started to hum downward. A soft mechanical lull beneath the silence that filled the space between us.


He shifted slightly, not looking at me as he asked, “Hey, do you need a ride home?”

I hesitated, caught off guard. “Oh. That’s okay. Mr. Blake. I’m good, really.”

He nodded, not pushing. But then again, he didn’t pull back either.

As the elevator slowed at the ground floor, I stepped forward, ready to leave and vanish into the night.

But his voice stopped me.

“You sure?” he said, and this time it was quieter. Gentler. “It’s late. And I’m heading that way. I'll drop you, don't worry.”


I froze, just slightly, before glancing back. The doors were open. The city waited. But the way he looked at me… steady, calm, that same restraint from earlier still flickering in his eyes… it pulled at something in me.

He nodded toward the exit. “Come on. I insist.”

There was something in his voice that made the answer come out before I could think it through.

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you so much Blake.”

We walked together down a quiet hallway I’d never used before. His keycard let us into the executive basement garage, and when his car chirped; sleek, black, and definitely out of my tax bracket...I paused for just a second.

He opened the passenger door for me, like a goddamn movie.

“Here,” he said softly. “Let me.”

I blinked, still unsure if this was happening. “Thanks…”

I slid into the seat, trying not to feel the way my pulse jumped. The leather was smooth and cool. The air smelled like his cologne; warm, spicy, expensive. Masculine in a way that clung to the back of my throat.

He got in on the driver’s side, started the car, and for a few seconds, neither of us spoke.


The silence was strangely comfortable.

He finally glanced over. “You live far?”

“Not really. Just west of the park.”

“Nice.”

The drive through the city was smooth and quiet. Streetlights painted gold across the dashboard in rhythmic flashes. The world outside blurred, but in the car, everything felt still.

“So,” he said, voice easy now, “what’s tomorrow for you? Big plans for Saturday night?”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, actually. My friend’s gender reveal in the morning. Her and her husband are going all out. Smoke cannons, cupcakes. I think a choreographed dance is involved.”

He chuckled. “Sounds… intense.”

“It will be,” I said, smiling. “But good intense.”

He nodded. “Good.”


By the time we pulled up outside my apartment, something in the air had shifted again. Not as sharp as before. But thicker. Heavier. Like a string that had been wound too tight and was waiting to snap.

I unbuckled my seatbelt but didn’t move.

The silence between us lingered, thick with something neither of us wanted to name.

I turned to him slowly. My heart was loud in my ears.

“I just wanted to say…” I took a breath. “I’m sorry about earlier, Blake. I misread things. Got caught up in the moment.”

Blake didn’t respond at first. His gaze was steady, fixed on me.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I continued, softer now.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just...”
I paused.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Maddox. Uh… Mr. Blake.”

The air felt different after I said it. Like something vulnerable had cracked open between us.

I expected him to give me a smile. Maybe a quiet it’s okay, or a polite dismissal to make it all go away.

But he didn’t.

He turned in his seat instead, slow and deliberate. His jaw was tense, and his eyes...God...his eyes were searching mine like he wasn’t sure what he was about to say.

“Actually, Troy…”

His voice had changed. Lower. Raw. Like something had broken loose inside him and he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

I held my breath.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. And even as he leaned in, he hesitated. His lips stopped just a breath away.

I could feel the warmth of him.

I could smell him.

He didn’t move further.

Not yet.

Then he whispered it.

“Fuck it.”


And his mouth found mine.

The kiss was immediate. Fierce. Passionate.
Like it had been caged behind his ribs for so long, clawing to get out and now he was letting it all pour into me. The low sound in his throat. He kissed like a man on the edge. Like he was craving it.

His hand came up fast...fingers strong and commanding, cupping my jaw, thumb anchoring just beneath my cheekbone. The way he held me there… it made something twist deep inside me. Like he was claiming the moment. Like he needed me close or he might lose control.

I kissed him back without a thought. Desperate. My whole body lit up as if something had just snapped loose in me.

And then...God...his fingers slid into my hair gently, threading through it like he’d been dying to do it for ages. He gave a gentle pull, just enough to tilt my head, to expose me to him. I moaned. It spilled from me, soft and involuntary, before I could stop it.

He kissed me harder after that. Like he liked the sound. Like it flipped a switch.

His lips moved over mine with fire, open and wet teasing me. I could feel the tension in his jaw, the heat of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against me. I didn’t pull back.

I leaned in instead, my palm sliding up the front of his chest. His shirt; dark green, fitted, soft cotton was warm from his skin. I could feel the hard cut of his body beneath it. Pecs. Shoulders. He was solid, carved like something purposeful. Like he belonged in this kind of moment.

My fingers drifted over the curve of his collarbone, and he let out a quiet groan that made my knees go soft. That sound, it sent heat pulsing low in my belly.

I shifted closer, pressing my thigh between his. He didn’t stop me. His other hand moved low, landing at my waist, then slowly sliding around my hip, pulling me flush against him. I felt the outline of his cock; hard, unmistakable..pressing through his jeans against my thigh. My breath caught.

Still, we didn’t stop.

We didn’t even try.

We kissed like we were trying to make up for every second we’d wasted pretending we didn’t want this all week. Breath hitching, hands roaming like we needed more, and then more again.

His mouth left mine only to kiss down the line of my neck, then behind my ear, kissing gently at the skin there. My head dropped back with a gasp, giving him access. I felt his lips graze me. I shivered.

My fingers gripped the front of his shirt, desperate to keep him close. I didn’t care if we were in his car. I didn’t care about anything except the heat spreading between us, the way his hand had crept beneath the hem of my tshirt, warm fingers now tracing the bare skin at my lower back.

I wanted him.
God, I wanted him so bad.
All of him.

But eventually, finally, he slowed.

He pulled back, just enough for his lips to hover above mine. His breath was fast. His eyes searched mine.

His hand stayed on my cheek, thumb stroking lazily across my jaw.

“I wanted to do that,” he said, his voice rough with need.

“Then why didn’t you earlier?” I asked, barely able to speak. My lips were tingling. My whole body was trembling.

He looked away for a second. Not coldly. Just… grappling. Then back at me.

“Because you’re my intern,” he said. “And because I don’t usually do this.”

I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. My skin buzzed where he’d touched me.

His thumb kept moving, slow, hypnotic. He was still touching me like he didn’t want to stop.

“When you leaned in earlier… I panicked. I thought maybe I was imagining it. And I didn’t want to cross a line.”

“And now?” I asked, my voice low.

His eyes darkened, lust and hesitation, all tangled together.

“Now I’m wondering if I already did.”

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward. It was electric; charged and unfinished.

I could still feel his kiss on my lips. Still taste him. Still feel the hard press of him between my thighs.

And even though he hadn’t said it outright, I could see it in his eyes.

He wanted more.

So did I.


So, I went for it.....

“Would you maybe…” I hesitated, nerves hitting me all at once. “Would you wanna come in? I mean, if you’re not rushing anywhere. You could… stay the night.”

The second it came out of my mouth, I looked away. Embarrassed. My ears burned hot.

He didn’t respond right away.

Then, gently...too gently...he said my name.

“Troy…”

My heart sank the moment I heard it in that tone.

“I should go.”

I nodded quickly, trying to pretend that didn’t sting. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

But he didn’t turn away just yet.

He looked at me again, longer this time. Then reached over one last time, his fingers brushing lightly down my arm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Okay?”

I smiled, small. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

I opened the door and stepped out, legs a little shaky as I closed it behind me.


And as I walked toward my building, keys in hand, I could still feel his kiss on my lips. His breath on my cheeks.

Like it hadn’t really ended.

Like maybe...just maybe...it was only beginning.


_________________________________

Part 5: The Invitation


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

 

[alan882324]

Hot steamy kissing in the car, daymn I'm getting horny imagining Blake and Troy

 

[bartsbasement]

Damn hot!

 

[fmbttm]

Part 4: The Drive That Changed Everything

Just before the elevator doors shut, a hand slipped in to stop them and Blake stepped in beside me.

He gave me a look that was impossible to read. “Didn’t think you’d sneak out without me.”

I smiled..barely. “Just heading home, Blake.”

He reached out to press the button for the basement, but before he could, I leaned in and hit it myself.

Our hands touched. Just for a second. Bare skin against skin. Nothing that would’ve meant anything to someone else.


But to me?
It was everything.

My heart skipped so sharply I thought he’d hear it.

He glanced at me and smiled. “Thanks, Troy”

The elevator started to hum downward. A soft mechanical lull beneath the silence that filled the space between us.


He shifted slightly, not looking at me as he asked, “Hey, do you need a ride home?”

I hesitated, caught off guard. “Oh. That’s okay. Mr. Blake. I’m good, really.”

He nodded, not pushing. But then again, he didn’t pull back either.

As the elevator slowed at the ground floor, I stepped forward, ready to leave and vanish into the night.

But his voice stopped me.

“You sure?” he said, and this time it was quieter. Gentler. “It’s late. And I’m heading that way. I'll drop you, don't worry.”


I froze, just slightly, before glancing back. The doors were open. The city waited. But the way he looked at me… steady, calm, that same restraint from earlier still flickering in his eyes… it pulled at something in me.

He nodded toward the exit. “Come on. I insist.”

There was something in his voice that made the answer come out before I could think it through.

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you so much Blake.”

We walked together down a quiet hallway I’d never used before. His keycard let us into the executive basement garage, and when his car chirped; sleek, black, and definitely out of my tax bracket...I paused for just a second.

He opened the passenger door for me, like a goddamn movie.

“Here,” he said softly. “Let me.”

I blinked, still unsure if this was happening. “Thanks…”

I slid into the seat, trying not to feel the way my pulse jumped. The leather was smooth and cool. The air smelled like his cologne; warm, spicy, expensive. Masculine in a way that clung to the back of my throat.

He got in on the driver’s side, started the car, and for a few seconds, neither of us spoke.


The silence was strangely comfortable.

He finally glanced over. “You live far?”

“Not really. Just west of the park.”

“Nice.”

The drive through the city was smooth and quiet. Streetlights painted gold across the dashboard in rhythmic flashes. The world outside blurred, but in the car, everything felt still.

“So,” he said, voice easy now, “what’s tomorrow for you? Big plans for Saturday night?”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, actually. My friend’s gender reveal in the morning. Her and her husband are going all out. Smoke cannons, cupcakes. I think a choreographed dance is involved.”

He chuckled. “Sounds… intense.”

“It will be,” I said, smiling. “But good intense.”

He nodded. “Good.”


By the time we pulled up outside my apartment, something in the air had shifted again. Not as sharp as before. But thicker. Heavier. Like a string that had been wound too tight and was waiting to snap.

I unbuckled my seatbelt but didn’t move.

The silence between us lingered, thick with something neither of us wanted to name.

I turned to him slowly. My heart was loud in my ears.

“I just wanted to say…” I took a breath. “I’m sorry about earlier, Blake. I misread things. Got caught up in the moment.”

Blake didn’t respond at first. His gaze was steady, fixed on me.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I continued, softer now.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just...”
I paused.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Maddox. Uh… Mr. Blake.”

The air felt different after I said it. Like something vulnerable had cracked open between us.

I expected him to give me a smile. Maybe a quiet it’s okay, or a polite dismissal to make it all go away.

But he didn’t.
View attachment 189055041
He turned in his seat instead, slow and deliberate. His jaw was tense, and his eyes...God...his eyes were searching mine like he wasn’t sure what he was about to say.

“Actually, Troy…”

His voice had changed. Lower. Raw. Like something had broken loose inside him and he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

I held my breath.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. And even as he leaned in, he hesitated. His lips stopped just a breath away.

I could feel the warmth of him.

I could smell him.

He didn’t move further.

Not yet.

Then he whispered it.

“Fuck it.”


And his mouth found mine.

The kiss was immediate. Fierce. Passionate.
Like it had been caged behind his ribs for so long, clawing to get out and now he was letting it all pour into me. The low sound in his throat. He kissed like a man on the edge. Like he was craving it.

His hand came up fast...fingers strong and commanding, cupping my jaw, thumb anchoring just beneath my cheekbone. The way he held me there… it made something twist deep inside me. Like he was claiming the moment. Like he needed me close or he might lose control.

I kissed him back without a thought. Desperate. My whole body lit up as if something had just snapped loose in me.

And then...God...his fingers slid into my hair gently, threading through it like he’d been dying to do it for ages. He gave a gentle pull, just enough to tilt my head, to expose me to him. I moaned. It spilled from me, soft and involuntary, before I could stop it.

He kissed me harder after that. Like he liked the sound. Like it flipped a switch.

His lips moved over mine with fire, open and wet teasing me. I could feel the tension in his jaw, the heat of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against me. I didn’t pull back.

I leaned in instead, my palm sliding up the front of his chest. His shirt; dark green, fitted, soft cotton was warm from his skin. I could feel the hard cut of his body beneath it. Pecs. Shoulders. He was solid, carved like something purposeful. Like he belonged in this kind of moment.

My fingers drifted over the curve of his collarbone, and he let out a quiet groan that made my knees go soft. That sound, it sent heat pulsing low in my belly.

I shifted closer, pressing my thigh between his. He didn’t stop me. His other hand moved low, landing at my waist, then slowly sliding around my hip, pulling me flush against him. I felt the outline of his cock; hard, unmistakable..pressing through his jeans against my thigh. My breath caught.

Still, we didn’t stop.

We didn’t even try.

We kissed like we were trying to make up for every second we’d wasted pretending we didn’t want this all week. Breath hitching, hands roaming like we needed more, and then more again.

His mouth left mine only to kiss down the line of my neck, then behind my ear, kissing gently at the skin there. My head dropped back with a gasp, giving him access. I felt his lips graze me. I shivered.

My fingers gripped the front of his shirt, desperate to keep him close. I didn’t care if we were in his car. I didn’t care about anything except the heat spreading between us, the way his hand had crept beneath the hem of my tshirt, warm fingers now tracing the bare skin at my lower back.

I wanted him.
God, I wanted him so bad.
All of him.

But eventually, finally, he slowed.

He pulled back, just enough for his lips to hover above mine. His breath was fast. His eyes searched mine.

His hand stayed on my cheek, thumb stroking lazily across my jaw.

“I wanted to do that,” he said, his voice rough with need.

“Then why didn’t you earlier?” I asked, barely able to speak. My lips were tingling. My whole body was trembling.

He looked away for a second. Not coldly. Just… grappling. Then back at me.

“Because you’re my intern,” he said. “And because I don’t usually do this.”

I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. My skin buzzed where he’d touched me.

His thumb kept moving, slow, hypnotic. He was still touching me like he didn’t want to stop.

“When you leaned in earlier… I panicked. I thought maybe I was imagining it. And I didn’t want to cross a line.”

“And now?” I asked, my voice low.

His eyes darkened, lust and hesitation, all tangled together.

“Now I’m wondering if I already did.”

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward. It was electric; charged and unfinished.

I could still feel his kiss on my lips. Still taste him. Still feel the hard press of him between my thighs.

And even though he hadn’t said it outright, I could see it in his eyes.

He wanted more.

So did I.


So, I went for it.....

“Would you maybe…” I hesitated, nerves hitting me all at once. “Would you wanna come in? I mean, if you’re not rushing anywhere. You could… stay the night.”

The second it came out of my mouth, I looked away. Embarrassed. My ears burned hot.

He didn’t respond right away.

Then, gently...too gently...he said my name.

“Troy…”

My heart sank the moment I heard it in that tone.

“I should go.”

I nodded quickly, trying to pretend that didn’t sting. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

But he didn’t turn away just yet.

He looked at me again, longer this time. Then reached over one last time, his fingers brushing lightly down my arm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Okay?”

I smiled, small. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

I opened the door and stepped out, legs a little shaky as I closed it behind me.


And as I walked toward my building, keys in hand, I could still feel his kiss on my lips. His breath on my cheeks.

Like it hadn’t really ended.

Like maybe...just maybe...it was only beginning.


_________________________________

Part 5: The Invitation


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

Hot steamy car make out sessions are the best!!

 

[Mzan]

Wow! Amazing story and Can’t wait for the rest

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Part 5: The Invitation

I went back to my apartment that night, heart still thudding from the kiss.

Blake’s lips. The way he’d said “fuck it” and just..gone for it. Bold, sudden, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore. But even as I lay in bed, replaying every second of it, I could still feel the hesitation underneath. That quiet restraint he hadn’t quite shaken. Like he wanted it, wanted me, but something in him was still holding back.

Even the next morning, at my best friend’s gender reveal party, surrounded by cupcakes, shouting uncles, and way too many shades of pink and blue..I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not the balloons. Not the smoke cannons. Just Blake.


That kiss.
That hand on my cheek.
That low, breathless “I should go.”

And now here I was, showing up late to the office on a Saturday, carrying the weight of that moment like it was still stuck to my skin.

Technically, I wasn’t expected to come in today. But the deck Blake had assigned still needed polish, and I figured this was the perfect time to get it done; quiet, empty, no distractions. Just me, my laptop, and a comically oversized iced coffee from the place down the block.

The floor was mostly deserted. A few suits I didn’t recognize lingered near the corner offices, but otherwise, it felt like a ghost town.

Except for one closed door at the end of the hall.

Blake’s.

I tried not to think too hard about it as I took my seat, booted up my laptop, and opened the deck. But then, soft footsteps. The sound of a door opening.

I turned instinctively.

And there he was.


Blake Maddox, in a black crewneck with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark jeans that fit a little too well, and hair that looked like he’d run his fingers through it instead of a comb. Casual. Effortless. Unfair.


He stepped out of his office. Stopped. His eyes locked on mine.

There was a beat...long enough to feel.

No smile. No nod.

Just a quiet stare before he turned and went back into his office, door clicking shut behind him.

Cool. Definitely no lingering tension there.

I exhaled and stared at the blinking cursor on my screen. Then, without really planning to, I stood up, grabbed the printed deck pages, and walked.

My feet took me there before my brain could talk me out of it.

I knocked once and pushed the door open.

He looked up from his desk as I stepped in, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Mr. Maddox,” I said...formal, safe. “I brought the updated deck for tomorrow. Sorry it took a while. I… needed to rework a few sections.”

He held out his hand. I crossed the room and passed the pages to him.

His fingers brushed mine, just slightly but the contact was enough to jolt me. That heat again. That pulse under my skin that had only gotten stronger since last night.

“Thanks,” he said softly, eyes on the pages. Then, quieter, “You didn’t have to come in today.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. “I figured it’d be easier to focus. Plus… I wanted to make sure you had time to review it before tomorrow.”


He flipped through the first couple pages, nodding. Silence stretched for a moment.

I turned to leave.

But then...

“Troy?”

I stopped.

He was looking at me again. And this time, it wasn’t with polite professionalism. It wasn’t guarded. It was something else...gentle, conflicted, a little unsteady.


“I’ve been thinking about last night,” he said quietly. “And before I say anything else… I want you to know something.”

I watched him, waiting.

“I don’t want this to be a thing we fumble through,” he said. “I want to do it right.”

His voice was low. Measured. Like saying it out loud cost him something.

“You caught me off guard last night,” he continued. “Not in a bad way..just… I wasn’t prepared to want something like that.”

I blinked.

Something like that?


He stepped around his desk slowly..not too close, just enough that we were finally standing face-to-face. Nothing between us now except space and whatever had been simmering in it for weeks.

That scent; sharp, clean, and masculine, drifted from his clothes again. The same one that had clung to his car last night. The same one I was still thinking about when I fell asleep.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted again.

And then, with the smallest tug of a smile...

“How about dinner tonight?”

My stomach did a full somersault.

“Oh,” I said, too fast. “Um… yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” He nodded once, like it was decided. “No suits. No work talk. Just… us.”


He paused, then added with a crooked grin, “Unless you really want to show me that deck again.”

I laughed, caught somewhere between breathless and lightheaded. “I think you’ve seen enough of my deck.”

Blake raised a brow, eyes sparkling. “Bold for a Saturday, intern.”

But the smile stayed...warm, real and the tension between us hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had deepened.



His voice dipped lower, still teasing but now laced with something softer. “So… dinner then?”

I nodded, trying hard not to look too eager even though my pulse was going crazy. “Can I pick you up at seven?” he asked casually, like he hadn’t just turned my whole Saturday into a countdown clock.

My face warmed. I had no idea what to do with my hands. “Sure,” I said, giving a small smile. “Blake.”


His eyes lingered on mine a beat too long. He didn’t look away right away and that smile of his didn’t fade either.

The way it tugged at the corners of his mouth, slow and sure, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me…


Yeah.


I was completely screwed and I couldn't wait for it.


_________________________________

Part 6: The Dinner Date


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

 

[fmbttm]

Part 5: The Invitation

I went back to my apartment that night, heart still thudding from the kiss.

Blake’s lips. The way he’d said “fuck it” and just..gone for it. Bold, sudden, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore. But even as I lay in bed, replaying every second of it, I could still feel the hesitation underneath. That quiet restraint he hadn’t quite shaken. Like he wanted it, wanted me, but something in him was still holding back.

Even the next morning, at my best friend’s gender reveal party, surrounded by cupcakes, shouting uncles, and way too many shades of pink and blue..I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not the balloons. Not the smoke cannons. Just Blake.


That kiss.
That hand on my cheek.
That low, breathless “I should go.”

And now here I was, showing up late to the office on a Saturday, carrying the weight of that moment like it was still stuck to my skin.

Technically, I wasn’t expected to come in today. But the deck Blake had assigned still needed polish, and I figured this was the perfect time to get it done; quiet, empty, no distractions. Just me, my laptop, and a comically oversized iced coffee from the place down the block.

The floor was mostly deserted. A few suits I didn’t recognize lingered near the corner offices, but otherwise, it felt like a ghost town.

Except for one closed door at the end of the hall.

Blake’s.

I tried not to think too hard about it as I took my seat, booted up my laptop, and opened the deck. But then, soft footsteps. The sound of a door opening.

I turned instinctively.

And there he was.


Blake Maddox, in a black crewneck with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark jeans that fit a little too well, and hair that looked like he’d run his fingers through it instead of a comb. Casual. Effortless. Unfair.


He stepped out of his office. Stopped. His eyes locked on mine.

There was a beat...long enough to feel.

No smile. No nod.

Just a quiet stare before he turned and went back into his office, door clicking shut behind him.

Cool. Definitely no lingering tension there.

I exhaled and stared at the blinking cursor on my screen. Then, without really planning to, I stood up, grabbed the printed deck pages, and walked.

My feet took me there before my brain could talk me out of it.

I knocked once and pushed the door open.

He looked up from his desk as I stepped in, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Mr. Maddox,” I said...formal, safe. “I brought the updated deck for tomorrow. Sorry it took a while. I… needed to rework a few sections.”

He held out his hand. I crossed the room and passed the pages to him.

His fingers brushed mine, just slightly but the contact was enough to jolt me. That heat again. That pulse under my skin that had only gotten stronger since last night.

“Thanks,” he said softly, eyes on the pages. Then, quieter, “You didn’t have to come in today.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. “I figured it’d be easier to focus. Plus… I wanted to make sure you had time to review it before tomorrow.”


He flipped through the first couple pages, nodding. Silence stretched for a moment.

I turned to leave.

But then...

“Troy?”

I stopped.

View attachment 189883441
He was looking at me again. And this time, it wasn’t with polite professionalism. It wasn’t guarded. It was something else...gentle, conflicted, a little unsteady.


“I’ve been thinking about last night,” he said quietly. “And before I say anything else… I want you to know something.”

I watched him, waiting.

“I don’t want this to be a thing we fumble through,” he said. “I want to do it right.”

His voice was low. Measured. Like saying it out loud cost him something.

“You caught me off guard last night,” he continued. “Not in a bad way..just… I wasn’t prepared to want something like that.”

I blinked.

Something like that?


He stepped around his desk slowly..not too close, just enough that we were finally standing face-to-face. Nothing between us now except space and whatever had been simmering in it for weeks.

That scent; sharp, clean, and masculine, drifted from his clothes again. The same one that had clung to his car last night. The same one I was still thinking about when I fell asleep.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted again.

And then, with the smallest tug of a smile...

“How about dinner tonight?”

My stomach did a full somersault.

“Oh,” I said, too fast. “Um… yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” He nodded once, like it was decided. “No suits. No work talk. Just… us.”


He paused, then added with a crooked grin, “Unless you really want to show me that deck again.”

I laughed, caught somewhere between breathless and lightheaded. “I think you’ve seen enough of my deck.”

Blake raised a brow, eyes sparkling. “Bold for a Saturday, intern.”

But the smile stayed...warm, real and the tension between us hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had deepened.



His voice dipped lower, still teasing but now laced with something softer. “So… dinner then?”

I nodded, trying hard not to look too eager even though my pulse was going crazy. “Can I pick you up at seven?” he asked casually, like he hadn’t just turned my whole Saturday into a countdown clock.

My face warmed. I had no idea what to do with my hands. “Sure,” I said, giving a small smile. “Blake.”


His eyes lingered on mine a beat too long. He didn’t look away right away and that smile of his didn’t fade either.

The way it tugged at the corners of his mouth, slow and sure, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me…


Yeah.


I was completely screwed and I couldn't wait for it.


_________________________________

Part 6: The Dinner Date


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

Is Blake a hot romantic daddy? Wine and dine, then a total freak in the sheets!? Fuck sign me up!!

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Is Blake a hot romantic daddy? Wine and dine, then a total freak in the sheets!? Fuck sign me up!!

Blake is definitely a romantic daddy!

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Part 6: The Dinner Date


By the time I got home, it was nearly five-thirty.

The second the door shut behind me, I broke into the kind of grin that only happens after something good...really good goes down.

Not just a smile. A full-body grin. The kind that takes over your face and makes you feel a little high.

I giggled.
Like, actually giggled.

Because I’d been holding it in all afternoon, trying to focus, trying not to drift off into full-blown blushy daydream territory. But now? Shoes off, alone in my apartment, heart still thudding?

There was no stopping it.

That kiss was all I could think about.
And the way he’d said it, just before it happened.

Fuck it.

God.

It had knocked the air clean out of me. Still did. Even hours later, I was floating. I barely got anything done at the office afterward, but I didn’t care.

Because tonight… was our first real date.

By six, I was in the shower...longer than usual, hotter than usual, with more… attention to detail. The shave-everywhere, exfoliate-everything kind. I wasn’t about to show up to dinner with Mr. Maddox looking like some half-done, half-slept twink.

I pulled on my best navy polo, snug in the sleeves, fitted at the waist. Gray tailored trousers. Black dress shoes that made me feel like I had a 401k and a personal assistant. Belt cinched tight, hair styled to hell, cologne I only wore for fantasy nights.

And this?
This was that.

At 7:15, I was pacing in the living room, nerves fluttering, leg bouncing like a jackhammer. I hadn’t eaten all day; not because I forgot, but because my stomach refused to let me.

Then my phone chimed.

MR. Maddox : I’m outside. Take your time.

My breath caught. I grabbed my keys, jacket, and practically ran out the door.

And when I stepped outside?

Yeah.

He was leaning back against the hood of his black sedan like some kind of slow-motion daydream. Hands in his pockets, maroon shirt tucked into slim black jeans, belt drawing my eye down way too easily.

And the shoes...clean, polished, just shiny enough to make you look twice.

He looked up the moment he saw me.
That little smirk.
Chin tilted.
Eyes tracing every inch of me.


“Hey,” he said, voice low and warm.
“You look good.”

I smiled, trying not to combust on the sidewalk. “Hey. So do you.”


He pushed off the car, walked around to the passenger side.

“Let me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when he opened the door...leaned in slightly to gesture me in...that’s when I caught it.

Not his usual cologne.
Something darker.
Warmer.
Leather, spice, a little bit of sweetness beneath it.
Like bourbon left breathing on a marble bar top.

It hit me square in the chest.

I barely remembered how to sit down.

He shut the door behind me, walked around, and got in.

The engine purred. His hand shifted to the wheel. And then his eyes were on me again...slow, deliberate, taking his time.

“You really clean up well,” he said, letting that last word hang a second longer.

I laughed, shifting in my seat. “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who looks like a GQ cover.”

He let out a soft breath, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth.


“I’ve got us a reservation at Monroe.”

My eyes widened. “Wait...Monroe Monroe?”

He gave a small nod, already turning onto the main road.

“Jesus. That’s… kind of fancy.”

He glanced at me sideways.

“You’re worth it.”

My heart might’ve stopped for a second.


I didn’t answer. Just swallowed and stared ahead, feeling way too warm for how cold it was outside.

The rest of the drive was quiet but not awkward. It felt… steady. Comfortable. Like both of us were waiting for something. Letting the air between us fill with whatever this was.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to a sleek glass building draped in soft string lights. The valet took the keys, and just like that, we were inside.


The rooftop restaurant looked like something out of a dream.
Jazz playing overhead. A skyline glittering in every direction. Our table tucked in a corner lit by candlelight, the city glowing behind us like we were inside a snow globe.

I barely touched my food.

Couldn’t stop looking at him.

Blake Maddox, tieless, sleeves rolled to his elbows. That maroon button-down shirt hugged him in all the right places. The top buttons undone, hinting at skin and collarbone and just enough chest to make my brain stop working.

He looked up from his wine glass.

“I meant to wait longer,” he said, voice soft. “Take things slower.”

He gave this small, self-aware smile like he already knew how ridiculous that sounded.

“But when you looked at me in that car last night, I knew I was screwed.”

I grinned, tracing the rim of my glass. “You’re not the only one.”

He chuckled under his breath, then leaned forward a little.

“I didn’t plan on this,” he said. “With a colleague, let alone an intern. But you got under my skin, Troy. Fast.”

My breath caught. My cheeks went warm.

“There’s something about you I couldn’t ignore,” he added.

I swallowed.

My voice barely worked, but I managed: “Well… I notice you too, Mr. Maddox.”

He smirked into his glass. Didn’t say anything for a beat.


We kept talking. And laughing. Somewhere between the second course and dessert, I stopped feeling nervous. He made me feel like I belonged there with him.


And then...


“Let me ask you something,” he said, tone playful.

I tilted my head. “Okay…”


He turned a little toward me, voice quieter now. Almost careful.

“Would you want to come home with me tonight, Troy?
Let me… make it up to you. For last night.”

The smile was still there.


But beneath it?

Sincerity.
Heat.
A low, honest want.

I stared at him for a second, heart pounding.


The skyline shimmered behind him. His shirt hung open just enough to make my mouth dry.


“I’d like that,” I said.

He stood, offered his hand, and we walked out together.


-------------

The ride to his place was quiet. Our hands resting near each other on the console. Close, but not touching.

The air between us practically buzzed.

He pulled into a private underground garage. Sleek steel beams, polished cement. Definitely not a cheap bachelor pad.

Blake parked, cut the engine, and looked over at me.

That same soft smile.

No words..just a look that said everything.

We walked through the glassy lobby, into the elevator. He brushed my hand once while we waited. Barely a touch. But it lingered.


He unlocked the door to his apartment, and...

Yeah.

It was insane.


Open layout. Clean, moody lighting. Dark wood floors, textured walls, framed art that probably cost more than my entire degree. It looked like the kind of place someone important lived.


Someone like him.

Blake stepped inside, casually unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked.


“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. “Want a drink?”

“Sure,” I replied, sitting down on the gray velvet couch. My pulse hadn’t slowed since we got in the car.


He returned with two glasses. Something amber. Expensive, probably.

He sat beside me....close.

So close our thighs brushed.

His scent hit me again.


That same warm, spiced bourbon note. Leather. Heat.

He raised his glass.

“To doing things right.”

I tapped mine against his.

Took a sip.

Smooth. Sweet. Dangerously good.


“So…” he said, setting his glass down. “Still nervous?”

“A little.” I laughed, looking over at him. “But mostly just… really glad I’m here.”

He leaned in. Close enough to touch. His leg pressed against mine.


And in that moment, with the soft glow of the kitchen lights behind him and that look in his eyes—

I knew one thing for sure.

I wasn’t going home tonight.

_________________________________

Read Part 7: First Touch, First Hunger


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.

 

[StoriesByTroy]

Part 7: First Touch, First Hunger

Blake’s apartment was wrapped in a kind of hush that didn’t feel like silence.

It felt like anticipation.

Warm, low lighting spilled across rich wooden floors, casting soft golden shadows that flickered and shifted with every movement we made.
And there, on the couch, he sat beside me. Close. His thigh against mine.

That cologne spiced bourbon and something darker; drifted between us. God, it wrapped around me like hands.

I was no longer thinking about the drink in my hand. Or the fact that we’d just left a rooftop dinner that felt like a dream.

I was thinking about how good he looked with his shirt undone at the top, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms.
I was thinking about how his eyes held mine. Focused. Dark. Wanting.

And then he touched me.

A single hand, rising slowly, deliberately, until his palm cradled my cheek.
His thumb grazed just under my eye, slow and reverent. Like he was memorizing me.

My breath caught but I didn’t pull back. I tilted my head, just enough to give him my answer.

And that was all he needed.

His mouth met mine.

Soft at first. Testing. Tasting.
Then deeper. Fuller. Like he’d been starving. Like he’d waited too long to do this properly.

His lips moved with precision, slow but certain...commanding in that quiet, maddening way he did everything.
And when his tongue brushed mine, I made a sound...small and unguarded and felt the moment shift.

He pushed forward.
I leaned back.

Until I was against the couch cushions, lips parted, chest rising fast beneath the fabric of my shirt.

Then he broke the kiss.

But only for a second.

He stood, his body all lines and heat and height and looked down at me with something that made my heart punch against my ribs.
Then he bent down, hands sliding under me, and lifted me clean off the couch.

I gasped. “Blake—”

“Shh.” His voice was soft, low, steady. “Let me.”

His grip was strong. Possessive. His forearms flexed beneath me as he carried me down the hallway like I weighed nothing.
My arms clung around his neck, skin burning where it met his.


He nudged open the door with his foot.

And then he laid me down.

The bed was massive...sheets a dark slate gray that shimmered faintly under the bedside lamp. Soft. Silky. Cool against the back of my thighs.

He stood over me, shirt half open, belt hanging undone.

I could see the outline of him.
The shape of his chest beneath the maroon fabric. The line of his stomach.
And lower...
The thick swell beneath his waistband.

My breath caught. My thighs pressed together.

He began to unbuckle, slow and sure. The sound of the leather sliding free was deliberate, intimate. It sent a pulse straight through me.

But before he could finish..,.
I sat up and pressed a hand to his chest.

“I want to,” I whispered, eyes flicking up to his.

He paused.
And then nodded. “Go ahead.”

God, the way he gave over control so easily… it only made me want him more.

My fingers found the buttons of his shirt and undid them one by one, slow and trembling, revealing smooth, warm skin.

His chest...sculpted, lightly dusted with dark hair. His abs; subtle, lean, a trail of hair leading down.

I leaned in and kissed the slope of his neck, just under his jaw.
Felt the way his breath caught.
Then down...my lips grazed his collarbone, the center of his chest.

His hands clenched at his sides. Letting me.

Letting me explore him.

And when I looked up at him, his eyes were already on me. Dark. Fixed.
I felt his gaze like a touch. Like he was memorizing every second.

We moved together; fluid, wordless.

He slid back onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard, shirt shrugged from his shoulders now.

I climbed into his lap, straddling him, knees sinking into the mattress.


My body lined up against his. My breath tangled with his.

“Hi,” I whispered.
His hands found my waist, gripping gently. “Hi.”


The next kiss wasn’t shy.

It was deep, slow, maddening. The kind of kiss that starts in the mouth and sinks lower. That makes your whole body ache to be touched.

His hands slid beneath my shirt, fingers brushing my spine. I arched.

I kissed his neck, his jaw, the line of his throat.

My hands roamed down his chest, over his nipples flicking softly, rolling gently with the pads of my thumbs.

His breath hitched. “Fuck…”

That sound was everything.


I slid down his body, lips trailing over his skin, tongue tracing a line past the ridges of his abs.

When I reached his waistband, I paused. Unfastened the button. Lowered the zipper.

And then I saw them.

Tight Black trunks.

Smooth. Tight. Clinging to every inch.


The waistband rode low on his hips, exposing the V-line beneath.
His cock was straining against the fabric, thick and heavy and outlined perfectly.

I brought my fingers to the hem and traced slowly upward, dragging along the curve of his thigh.

Then I looked up at him, lips parted.

“I’d love to taste you, Mr. Maddox,” I said.

His chest rose sharply. His fingers flexed against the sheets.

“You’re sure?” he asked, voice wrecked and low, barely holding on.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I want to.”

And then I leaned in.

My mouth found him through the fabric first, teasing. Slow pressure, wet heat, tongue tracing the outline before I peeled the waistband down.

What I saw made me groan.

Thick. Flushed. Gorgeous.

I wrapped a hand around the base, held him steady, and opened my mouth and that’s when his hand slid into my hair.

“Fuck, Troy…”

The way he said my name...shaky, reverent was enough to make me drip.

I took my time. Drew my lips down the length of his cock, swirling my tongue, savoring every inch of his beautiful cock. He was warm, hard, and perfect in my mouth.

And when I glanced up....
His head was tipped back, eyes fluttered shut, lips parted.

Completely undone.

Because of me.

And I hadn’t even started yet.

_________________________________

Part 8: Tasting Mr. Maddox


All parts of this story has been released on my patreon StoriesByTroy.

Thank you for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates on this story.