1
ISAAC
If my assistant’s pants were any tighter, I’d be able to see his sperm. As it is, they aren’t hidinganythingelse. The outline of his sac is visible. The ridge defining the crown of his cock presses against the crotch fabric. The seams and high cut of his briefs show so well, I could trace the stitches. He’s standing on my right, leaning past me across my desk, gesturing at my monitor to the left. He’s talking, but all I hear are names and dates in a continuous ramble while my fingers twitch, fighting the urge to tug his zipper down and scrape my teeth along the slit of his dick, which might as well be resting on my cheek as aware of it as I am.
Evan sighs. “You’re not listening at all, are you?”
“You know how much I love your…calendars.”
“Thanks so much. It’s over here by the way,” he quips with a tap on my monitor.
“How much spandex is in those pants?” I ask to assure him he has my attention—just not the kind he’s after.
“What if I just told you something critical? Like your brother is stranded on the Golden Gate Bridge?”
“Jake isn’t stranded. He texted me ten minutes ago.”
“Who are we meeting at ten-thirty?” Evan quizzes me.
“How much time do I have until ten-thirty?”
He huffs a laugh. “Would you rather go over your calendar on your own?”
I’m more than happy to show him what I’drather.
I wrap a hand around the back of Evan’s knee to emphasize that I don’t want him going anywhere. Not until he gives me an explanation for why he wore these pants into the office today. “Whose attention were you looking to get with these?”
“Oh, you know me.Everyone’s,” he says, but I don’t buy it.
“Well, you have mine. Will that do?”
“Funny. It feels like I don’t have it at all.”
Iwasmostly listening. At ten-thirty, Evan and I are presenting his new workflow concept for Four Points Freight followed by a catered lunch because it’s Brittney’s last day.
“Isaac!” he gasps.
My hand cups his balls, hard. Now that I have them, I rub my palm over them, feeling them heat and tighten through the thin, stretchy fabric.
He sticks his ass out like a good assistant and braces his hands on my desk. His thighs part to let my hand roam. His delicious rear end is now at eye level, and I take all of it in with a starved, depraved gaze. Evan came to me with a great résumé, but I won’t lie—his ass made his application rise to the top of equally qualified candidates.
I wasn’t ever expecting to be allowed into it, especially as often as he lets me, but he’s the neediest slut I’ve ever met as evidenced by the outline of the gem-shaped plug in his hole. He’s lubed and ready.
“You think you can peel these off for five minutes? Do I have that long?”
“You have seven,” he says, breathless already.
My good boy. He’ll be the fucking end of me, I swear to God.
I rise behind him, untucking my shirt, unbuckling my belt, and undoing my fly in a series of well-practiced movements while he shimmies his stacked ass out of those salacious blue pants.
It appears in all its glory. The blue gem in his bleached hole has me swiping at my mouth where I’m already salivating excessively. I run my hands along his stark tan line, first at his hips, then at the crease of his thighs.
He opens my desk drawer, and I take a condom from the pile, ripping it open with my teeth. Rolling it on my aching erection is an exercise in torture.
“Take that thing out,” I demand. “Show me you’re ready for me.”
“I’m ready,” he whispers.
