“I’m close,” he says. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I breathe onto his damp sweater. “Yes.” My cock jerks with the new information. My balls feel too tight. Too hot. My ass clenches on nothing, and my hips lift, driving my dick deeper into his hole.
He grunts and starts thrusting with me, driving his own cock through my fist and punching his ass down repeatedly on my lap. I would say I come with no warning, but I have plenty. When he started swiveling, it became inevitable, and it’s been an exercise in restraint not to blow my load embarrassingly fast. Maybe I have Deacon to thank for the fact that I was able to hold out long enough to get Evan off with me.
I don’t know what it is about him or his body, but it feels better than any body I’ve ever been inside. His musculature maybe? His luscious ass? His slutty sounds? I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. He just fucking does it for me. When his cock spasms in my hand and the resulting cum gushes over my knuckles, I groan helplessly as my dick continues to go off inside him. My insides twist into knots and release in exhilarating waves of pleasure and relief. For a few transcendent moments,all my tension disappears. When he softly cries out, it’s music to my ears. The sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I loosen my hand, going from a tight grip to a gentle caress, milking him onto the floor, onto my hand. He slumps over the desk. While I want nothing more than to slump with him and drape my body over his, I sit back and breathe, releasing his dick.
Since he can’t see and won’t ever know, I bring my hand to my mouth for a taste of his cum.
He passes me some tissues.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I just need a second,” he whispers without moving off me.
My arms ache to hold him as I look down at where our bodies are joined. At this angle, I’m about halfway inside him. A few inches of the condom are visible. Other than that, it’s a gorgeous sight. The kind of thing that lodges in my brain and becomes impossible to shake loose.
“Take your time,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Why?”
“I made a mess and acted like a brat. I just—I don’t know.”
“Tell me,” I urge.
“I just needed that.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
He laughs, and it’s a cynical sound that makes me scowl. “I’myourassistant.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it shouldn’t be about whatIwant.”
“That’s just stupid,” I say, incapable of anything more articulate. “I didn’t hire you forthis.”
“I know. I’m sorry. My roommate is stressing me the fuck out,” he says.
“Still?” I ask. He mentioned this Monday.
“Yeah. Apparently he has something he wants to talk to me about, and that’s happening tonight. He swears he’s not kicking me out, but he doesn’t usually make one-on-one plans with me to talk, so I don’t know what the fuck is up.”
“That’s what’s been bothering you?”
“More or less,” he says miserably.
“Maybe you left a dirty dish in the wrong place.”
Evan lets out a short laugh. “Maybe. Okay.” He sighs. “I’m good.”
Between him leaning forward and me holding onto my spent dick, we separate. He stands and grabs his pants from the desk. With no shame, he uses a tissue to wipe some excess lube from his crack before getting dressed. He even offers to take the condom off my hands.
“I’ve got it.” I wrap it in the tissues and chuck it into the trash with the rest of our mess.
