Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Shit.
Shit!
I put the briefcase back in the cabinet, then closed the door, and just about got my ass into his chair before the door flew open.
“Oh,” he said, stopping short, eyes wide as he looked at me. “Hey,” he said, and there was the marked confusion in his voice.
Because I was never in his office.
With the damn door closed.
“I was wrong,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as tight as it felt, what with the whole barely being able to breathe past the heart in my throat thing.
“Wrong?” he asked, brows drawing together.
“Yeah, remember how I said the desk should stay here?” I asked.
“Ah, yeah,” he said in a way that suggested he’d forgotten that detail. Because I’d never said it.
“I think it should move across the room facing this way. And maybe, eventually, you should pop a window here,” I said, gesturing toward the wall that faced the back garden. “It’s weird that there’s no window in here,” I added.
“I, ah, I kind of like the lack of window,” he said, saying a lot between the words. Things he could never say to me because he believed I knew nothing about the Family.
Windows were an access point.
Windows were an easy way to look in, to listen in, to place bugs.
And he wanted his office to be secluded and safe.
“Oh, well, in that case… I still think the desk is better over there,” I told him. “That way, when people come in, they aren’t coming in at your side. Which feels weird. It’s more of a power position over there.”
To that, he nodded.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he agreed, and it was right then that I noticed how tense his shoulders were, how tight his jaw.
Bad day at work.
Guilt, familiar and overpowering, swelled once again.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Is that a ‘I’m actually fine’ or is that a ‘dude fine’?”
“‘Dude fine’?” he repeated.
“You know, when a guy says he’s fine when he’s clearly not fine?” I asked getting out of the chair, and reaching up toward his shoulders. “Because your shoulders say you’re not fine,” I said, digging my fingers into the tense muscles.
“Careful, or massage is going to become part of your job,” he said, giving me a tired smile.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Hmm?”
“Time,” I said.
“Eleven? Somewhere around there.”
“Seems like lunch time, right?”
“Sure,” he said. “Are you… hungry?” he asked.
“Nope. Just checking to see if I’m off the clock,” I said as my hands grabbed him, turned him, backed him into the room until he found the chair.
I saw the twinkle in his eye as the grin tugged at his lips when I pushed him to be seated.
Then slowly lowered myself down in front of him.
Was I using sex to ease some of my guilt?
I think I was.
But it was more than that.
I just… fuck, I liked this man. I wanted him.
My hands slid up his thighs as my gaze held his, watching as his eyes went more and more heated as my palms moved over the front of his pants before working his belt, button, and zipper free.
Emilio’s hands were gripping the arms of the chair hard when I finally reached inside and drew out his cock.
I stroked him to the hilt before lowering down, running my tongue around the head of his cock, hearing his breath hiss out of him as I did.
Spurred on by his reaction, I sucked him down slowly, painstakingly so, feeling his whole body go rigid as I did. His hand slammed down on the back of my neck, fingers digging in. His hips bucked upward. But I refused to go faster, enjoying this too much.
I kept my fingers around the base of his cock, but used the other to massage his balls as I started to move up and down his length.
Slowly at first, a twisting motion.
Then faster and faster as his hissed breathing and quiet curses met my ears, spurring me on.
“Baby, let me fuck you,” he groaned as I knew I was getting him close to that edge.
I didn’t pull away to say anything.
My actions were proof enough of what I wanted.
To give him a selfless orgasm.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he growled as I sucked him faster and faster. “You’re so fucking good,” he groaned as his body tensed. “Baby, I’m gonna…”
I knew.
And I kept working him through it, letting him push my head down at the last possible moment, letting him come down my throat.
He pulled me up after, pressing me against the desk as he swiveled his chair to face me.
His hands moved up my thighs, then slipped into the waistbands, fingers toying up my sex.
“Fucking drenched just from sucking my cock,” he murmured as his fingers slipped in and out of me, teasing me, but not giving me what he knew I wanted.
“Emilio,” I whimpered, my hips rocking against his touch.