His fingers twitched above his head while he watched me, phantom movements left over from the desire to reach out to touch and being restrained from doing so in the process. His chest quivered like a baby bird’s, pulling in short shocks of oxygen while I continued to play with what I was quickly realizing was his very sensitive body.
Every ghost of my fingers over his skin, or subtle caress along his inner thighs to circle back up to where his cock was resting against his belly, was making him squirm and twist on the desk, writhing with the need for me tokeep going.
How long had it been since someone had him like this?
Laid out like a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet just ready to be swallowed up whole?
Funny, he was the one that was getting jealous when it should’ve been me after he’d whipped out that little nugget of knowledge earlier.
I’d admit, he surprised me with the getting tied-up bit. Clearly, I’d been underestimating my dear director and had pegged him as more of a square than he actually was. That was my bad. I’d misjudged him in a way I hated others doing to me. I’d taken a few characteristics he’d shown me on that first day we met and let my imagination fill in the rest of the blanks before stamping it as ‘FINAL’.
Types like him, the kind who were wound a little tighter than normal, were the best to unravel. They always turned out fucking beautiful by the time you were done having your way with them and that satisfaction in getting them there was half the fucking fun of it.
I was curious to see how much of a freak he really was hiding under all those layers of professionalism he liked to dress himself up in.
What kind of nasty shit got him coming all over himself while gasping for more?
Clearly, the corporal punishment was doing wonders so far.
Having Blake spread out like this, with his stacks of important documents piled high next to his twitching body, just ready to be ruined by him getting off, got my own dick twitching in my pants.
The dichotomy between what we were doing right now and what he’d been up to less than ten minutes ago—being an actual responsible adult running a million dollar business—was staggering. The kind of irony that struck you days later after a full decompression.
While I wasn’t exactly going to apologize for having a hand in Blake slacking off on his duties, I’d take full responsibility for giving him a much-needed break he clearly needed.
I could sit back and look at him all day. Watch that flush slowly crawling across his chest, pinkening his skin, and see what other parts of him it’d soon manifest on.
He was such a fucking vision.
My hands itched to grab and squeeze every part of him. Leave my fingerprints bruised into his skin so that each time he stretched or reached for something, he felt the apparition of my hands still on him.
I worked my bottom lip between my teeth until it felt raw, using it to control the energy burning through my veins before I got carried away. I wanted this to be a nice and slow kind of ride, not like the ones where it was a thirty second ultra high and over and gone too soon.
Who knew what fresh bullshit tomorrow would bring and what regrets would come with it. Right at this moment, in the here and now, I wanted Blake to focus on what was right in front of him. To stop thinking so damn loudly that it drowned out everything else, including my hands on him.
Every shift of his eyes darting away from me, every downturn of those pouty lips the second I didn’t have him fully engaged, gave me a snapshot into what the chaos going on inside his head at all times was like. The noise that was never going to let up if he didn’t allow me to get in there and turn the fucking sound system off.
He needed someone to force him into letting it all go, to table the responsibilities and the pressure for the time being, and let himself simply exist in the moment.
The world would keep on spinning regardless of how many papers he pushed, so why not make the most of it and enjoy the time outside of the mess for a while?
Another moan slipped out of Blake’s mouth, his lashes fluttering over his dark eyes, the second I trailed the back of my finger up the length of him. He was a nice size, perfect for gripping in my hand while I railed him. Too bad we were going to have to pivot in a different direction from that tonight.
I’d been looking forward to feeling his tight heat wrapped around me, seeing how firmly he squeezed me right before he came. It would happen one way or another before these next five weeks were up and I was being shipped off on a bus back to Ellington Heights.
Before coming here, Silas had taunted me about not bringing my own stash, ragging on me for thinking I was above my own hormones. It wasn’t like spending six weeks out in the woods was going to be a deterrent for my very enthusiastic libido, according to him.
At the time, I’d waved it off and told him to mind his own business.
What did he care if I got laid on my self-imposed sabbatical?
Now I was severely regretting my choices.
Like usual, Silas was right and I was the bastard too stubborn to admit it.
“Fuck. You—” Blake’s chest heaved. “You’re such a tease.”
A few beads of precum slowly drooled onto his stomach, a trail of pearly wetness creating a nice sheen against his flushed skin. I drew a shape around it, following the smattering of freckles he had peppering the spot.
