The plug is thick, and when he pulls it from his hole, it leaves a perfectly glistening gape, begging to be stuffed. I groan at the sight of it. “Fuck.” He’s too perfect. I’m too obsessed.
I’m inside him too soon.
“Umph. God.Ow,” he whines, dropping the plug. It rolls off the desk and lands on the floor. I hardly care.
The noise he makes when I bottom out is music to my ears.
Covering his mouth, I thrust hard.
He adjusts his stance and arches his back to take me better, and it’s good. He’s sogood.
My hips bounce off his round, tight ass as he takes me balls deep over and over again.
My stamina when it comes to fucking Evan is non-existent. I allow him to believe it’s because I’m always in a rush, but the truth is, I’m plain desperate for him at all times. Stealing quickies with him in the office is not where I saw this “relationship” headed, but it’s all he’ll give me, and I’m too weak not to take it. I try to make up for this by slamming into him extra hard. I want the desk to leave bruises on his hipbones. Iwant his ass raw and sore. I want him thinking of me constantly the way I can’t stop thinking of him.
He probably won’t come. He rarely does, and I assume that’s his way of putting me in my place. I’ve stopped bothering with trying to bring him to climax because that way, it feels like I’m in control of this situation. Like—fuck—I don’t know. Like I don’t care. Idocare, to be clear. It eats at me becauseheeats at me. I slam into him to the rhythm ofWhy. Am. I. Not. Good. E-nough. For. You?
The answer is probably simple. Because I’m too fucking much.
And yet, here I am, willing to take whatever he gives me.
I orgasm with my entire body, leaving a blast zone that rebounds off the walls of my private office. My white hot release fills the condom in several rapid-fire bursts. My knees soften, and I brace my hands on the desk outside Evan’s arms. I drop my head, breathing through the harsh waves of pleasure, my forehead an inch from his upper back. A bead of sweat falls from the tip of my nose onto his shirt, and I watch as the small drop of liquid seeps into the fabric, barely comprehending the sight as my mind roars.
Lodged inside him, my cock jerks through several aftershocks, each one more insufferable than the last.
“Evan,” I whisper, the sound choked and close to broken.
He doesn’t respond.
“Say something. Don’t make me feel like shit.”
“I assume this means you approved of the plug.”
Relief fills my chest. It wasalmostthe perfect thing for him to say. “The plug is officially approved.”
“Good.”
In as many ways as I need to fuck Evan, I hate it, too. I’m not sure when it started to hurt. When removing myself from his body became an emotional upheaval.
He clears his throat politely, signaling he’s done with me now.
Reaching between us, I hold the condom in place and withdraw, giving him room to stand. He straightens, grabs a few tissues from the box I keep on the corner of the desk for exactly this purpose, and passes them to me over his shoulder.
The best assistant. He really is.
I clean him with the tissues before tending to myself.
“Can I have a second in your bathroom?” he asks.
“Of course.”
Somehow he gets his pants back over his ass and moves around me to my private restroom. After cleaning myself, I use the tissues to wrap up the full condom before tossing it into the trash. I grab another tissue to dab at my sweaty face before tucking myself back into my boxer briefs and doing up my pants. On the desk, I see something that takes me by surprise.
Cum.
Evan’s cum has left two messy stripes across my keyboard, and the sight of it both elates and depresses me.How did I miss that?
I look up, startled, as Evan comes out of the bathroom. He’s holding a tissue to his lip. I frown, and he shows me the spot of blood.
