I put my speaker on mute.
“I love sucking your fat cock. You’re bigger than I thought. You taste so good,” Tate yells, gasping for air as he takes my dick again.
Play with my balls, I scribble on another note and pass it down.
Tate’s tongue swirls around each nut, sucking on one then the other, nuzzling his nose against them. He rubs his cheek against my hairy thighs like a cat marking its territory. He slaps my cock on his tongue.
Whose cock are you sucking? I scribble and pass down. I hit mute.
“I’m sucking my boss’s amazing cock. Fuck!”
I sure hope these hotel walls are soundproofed.
I pat his head, this time grabbing a fistful of hair. I thrust my crotch so he deep throats me again. My desk shakes.
“You okay?” Edwin asks.
“Yeah, my leg hit the desk.”
“You don’t seem tired, but you’re probably tired with all that traveling. We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow. I’m excited about where things are going,” Edwin says.
Me, too. Because we’re not stopping with an epic blow job, no matter how badly I want to come. If Tate wants to get fucked by the boss, then he’s going to get fucked by the boss.
“Night all.” Edwin ends the call.
The screen goes black. I slam my laptop shut and step back from the desk. My cock hangs heavy between my legs.
Tate looks up at me with those spit-shined lips and big eyes, like a pet who knows it’s done wrong but is too lovable to be mad at.
I pull him up by the shirt into a hot, hungry kiss, our lips smashing together.
“Get on the bed,” I growl into his ear. I drag my teeth down his neck. “My turn.”
4
TATE
Is it possible for a guy to make you come just by talking to you? Bill is certainly putting that theory to the test.
His commanding voice sets every nerve ending inside me at a full, raging wildfire. I don’t waste another second and practically gallop to the bed. My mouth is still hot from his cock, which was even bigger than what I’d imagined. It hangs heavy between his legs as he approaches.
“I didn’t say to sit on the bed.” His voice is low and raspy, chocolate brown eyes half-mast.
I hop off the bed and stand up straight, like I’m in basic training.
He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. His tie stays on. I drink in his broad chest and arms, thick and corded with muscle. His dark chest hair is dotted with grays, just like his beard. His stomach has a faint outline of abs shaded with a line of hair down to his crotch.
Bill hits the gym in the mornings before the office, per his calendar. He calls it sacred time, not to be scheduled over unless it’s an emergency or a request from Edwin. Thank the Lord for sacred time.
“Are you going to blink?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not a chance.” His body is all man, sexy in its imperfection. It’s a body with miles on it. I want to remember every line, every crease, because I won’t get this chance again.
Conversely, I’m a bit embarrassed by my figure. I feel like a boy compared to him. My gym time isn’t as sacred and typically consists of walking on the treadmill during a House Hunters marathon.
“Strip to your underwear,” he says. As a boss, Bill is great at giving direct, clear instructions. Those qualities carry over to the bedroom, too. Lucky for me. Each command makes my dick grow harder.
I shuck off my shirt and tie and drop my pants. My dick tents in my underwear, and there’s no way for me to cover it up. Had I known how this night was going to go, I would’ve worn sexier underwear than tighty-whities. Laundry day comes for us all.
