His smile didn’t fade, but it left his eyes. He looked at me for a few moments, as if he was deciding how to say something, but nothing came out.
Chapter Twelve
“Thank you,” Alec said with a smile, grabbing his laptop bag and the coffee I made him from the table. “I’m late. I’ll have to join my meeting from the car as it is.”
“Too late to give me a kiss?”
Alec rolled his eyes, smiled again, then leaned across the table to peck me on the lips. “Bye. See you later.”
“Later.”
“Don’t forget to finish the DySoSan proposal. I want to review it this afternoon,” he called from the door.
“Yes, sir!” I called back.
Calling him sir inside the bedroom got a firm kiss, devious grin, or hearty “Good boy.” Outside, an annoyed eye roll or chuckle.
He paused before leaving, then turned around. “You know what…”
“What?” I said as his face turned wicked.
“Nothing.” His grin got wider. “Don’t be late, Blackwood,” he said and walked out the door.
I hoped we’d fuck. We didn’t the day before, and it was early, even if he said he was late. I was only out of bed because I woke up with a throbbing hard-on while he was in the shower.With that smirk, then calling me Blackwood, I thought it was a sure thing. But he left me blue-balled.
After living together for two months, those early fears had largely been assuaged. We weren’t dating in secret. We were just a little couple-like, which worked. It was foolish to think he might’ve seen it as anything more. What, with him being so recently out of a marriage, and me never wanting to be in one.
I focused on work and sex. Nothing needed to be said when everything was so good. Because, for as many couple-like things we did, there were a million more straight-up fuck buddy things—like sneaking around.
Showing up to work with a sore ass after taking his morning wood was thrilling—and what Iwantedto do that morning. That no one had any idea, and how well we pulled it off, was hot as fuck. There were no secret touches or lingering glances. No whispered words passed in the hallway. We behaved very well in front of our colleagues. But in private?
Sometimes, in one-on-one meetings where we knew no one could hear us, Alec would speak to me like we were in a hotel. Using only Blackwood, giving me little smirks, calling me a good boy when I’d do something he liked. It rarely slipped into overt sexual territory, but the undertones and his attitude never failed to get me hard.
That’s not to say we never let our behavior in the office fall into fireable territory. Alec Whitaker had become a kinky little freak since taking up man-sex. Or maybe he always was, and having sex with his live-in Jr. Rep. brought out unknown parts of him. By that, I mean we fucked at the office.
The first time was forgettable. It was late, and we were late—everyone else had left for happy hour. Alec wanted to go over some stuff, but kept pushing it off. Then once we were alone, he stood up and said, “Follow me, Blackwood,” in the tonethat made me hard, and fucked me in the men’s room. It was hot and dirty, but as far as physical sex went, justmeh.
We did that again a few times, and blew each other in the tiny storeroom before anyone else got in a few mornings, too. The main attraction was the risk and thrill. But two big guys trying to get each other off in cramped spaces was uncomfortable, and we stopped doing it. Hot fantasy to jerk off to, though.
I refrained from jerking off that morning. Alec was right, it was getting late. And if I knew him, he’d rail me to nirvana when he got home since we didn’t get a chance to the day before.
???
My blue balls had annoyed me all morning. Or maybe it was Alec avoiding me. Either way, I was irritable.
Alec had placed a meeting on my calendar called “DySoSan Proposal,” which wasn’t weird, but designating a location was. The sales team had breakout rooms and a conference room in our area. We rarely booked in other parts of the building for internal meetings, and never for one-on-ones. We’d chat at one of our desks if the rooms were full.
The day’s work took me, and I had forgotten about it until the five-minute alarm pinged my screen. The conference room's name and number were unfamiliar. I’d only been at FinCrest for less than a year and didn’t know where I was going. Alec was M.I.A. for hours, and I was about to ask our department admin if she could help locate it when something told me not to. Alec didn’t want anyone to know where we were.
I found it fifteen minutes after the official start time—unacceptable for a half-hour meeting. It was an old-format conference room on an empty floor, which was about to be renovated. The employees were working from home until therenovation was complete. Our floor wasn’t slated to begin for months.
“What the fuck, Alec?” I said with an annoyed laugh.
He put his hand on my back and ushered me into the room, peeking out the door before closing and locking it. The new-format conference rooms were clear glass until the door was closed, making it opaque. This room only had windows to the outside, heavy curtains blocking the sun, and the smell of a little used library. An old flat-screen monitor hung on one wall where its outdated connection cords dangled like a dying octopus.
“You’re late, Blackwood.”
“Is there a reason you had me walk up and down every goddamn floor in this building looking for this room?” I asked. He scanned my face, landing on my lips.
