Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Let me hear you, pet. I want you hard and aching.”
Mission accomplished. “Yes, sir.” He snaked a hand under his shorts and stroked his cock. He wasn’t exactly rushing to come after last night. His balls were wrung dry like raisins. And yet, when Rafe commanded him, his cock responded like Pavlov’s fucking dog.
“Tell me what you’re doing, paint me a picture so detailed it’s like I’m there.”
His voice shook as he complied. “I’m holding the phone with my left hand. My right is in my shorts, stroking my cock. I’m sitting on my bed. My legs are spread.”
Rafe’s answering groan sent a strange possessive thrill through Hop so acute it made him gasp. “Imagine me fucking you like you get fucked in your nastiest dreams.”
“Yesss,” Hop said in a long hiss. His fingers tightened on his cock. His strokes sped up and he lifted his hips to fuck his own hand, but it wasn’t his own pleasure he sought. What he desired was Rafe’s. The phone pressed hard into his ear, Hop’s attention was on the soft sounds coming through the speaker.
He wished he could ask if Rafe was jerking off too, but if Rafe had wanted him to know, he would. Five minutes wasn’t a long time, especially when you were so consumed you lost all sense of where you were and why.
When Rafe said, “Time’s up,” it took Hop several seconds to come back to reality.
He stared at his swollen cock disconcertingly. “Please.”
“Once an hour for the rest of the day, you will rub yourself for exactly one minute, but don’t you dare come.”
His fingers curled into the comforter. “At work?”
“Yes, go to the bathroom.”
Hop hesitated.
“Problem?” Rafe didn’t sound challenging or arrogant. In fact, his tone was wholly inquisitive as if he honestly wondered what Hop was thinking.
That hint of empathy settled Hop. It made him want to give Rafe everything he had just to hear the validation in his voice. “No, sir. I’ll do as you ask.”
Silence reached through the line like long fingers and stroked Hop’s hair. “Get dressed, pet. You’ll be late.”
“Yes, sir.” They hung up and Hop quickly pulled his jeans over his boner, and then slipped on an oversize blue sweater. He zipped up both his just-in-case bag and his rehearsal bag, stepped into his velvet pumps and grabbed his keys.
He was out the door in two minutes flat and didn’t realize he was smiling until he caught his reflection in the shiny elevator doors.
* * *
“So we’ve secured the vendors?” Rafe asked Mark, fighting a yawn.
“All but one—they’re concerned about the workload since they’re a small business.”
“How can we help?”
“I suggested splitting the contract between two companies but that also splits the profits. The owner is considering hiring more workers specifically for our event. She’s going to work up her costs and get back to me this week.”
“Good. What about—” Rafe’s phone buzzed, interrupting him. He glanced at the screen. The incoming message was from the deli he’d called earlier to say his order had been delivered. A smile curled his lips as he imagined Hop struggling with gratitude and indignation when he received the huge turkey Rueben and salad.
A second later, another text popped up.
Do you think I’m a hippo?
Rafe actually laughed out loud, but it was cut off short when Mark cleared his throat.
“Sorry, just...” He waved his phone.
Mark held up his hands. “Go ahead.”
Rafe typed. Send me a picture.
He didn’t have to wait long. A fuzzy image of Hop holding the sandwich with a scowl popped up. The accompanying text read: It’s as big as my head.
He was familiar with the giant portions at this particular deli, it was one of the reasons he liked it so much.
Eat at least half.
Another picture came a second later, Hop with his tongue sticking out.
“Brat.” Rafe chuckled, quickly typing his reply.
Keep showing me your tongue and I’ll give you something to do with it.
Hop’s answer sent heat to Rafe’s balls.
Yes, sir.
Send another picture when you’re finished.
Yes, sir.
Rafe set his phone aside and tried to remember what he’d been asking before the disruption. He looked up to find Mark studying him with wonder.
“What?”
“You seeing someone, boss?”
Rafe looked away and shuffled the papers on his desk. “I don’t date.” The words tasted like chalk on his tongue and the sentiment was hollow.
“Not for as long as I’ve known you.”
“So?”
“So why not?”
“You know why.”
“Because work is your mistress?”
Rafe’s single laugh was forced and cold. “That too.”
“Well, whoever that was on the phone, I like them.”
Rafe shot a questioning look at his GM. “You don’t even know who it was.”
Mark shrugged. “They made you laugh. Can’t say I’ve ever heard that before.”
“I’ve laughed.”
“Have you? I can’t remember a single time.”
Rafe scowled at nothing in particular. “Let’s get back to work. Vendors are settled for now, what about PR?”