Instead, I doubled down, taking him deeper, sucking harder, working him with everything I had. I wanted to taste him, wanted him to cum in my mouth, wanted to give him this release he’d been denying himself for God knows how long.
“Xavier, I’m gonna—oh fuck?—”
His cock pulsed on my tongue, and then he was cumming, spilling hot and thick down my throat. I swallowed around him, taking everything he gave me, my eyes watering slightly from the effort of keeping him deep while he pulsed and throbbed against my tongue. His thighs clamped around my shoulders, his whole body shaking with the force of his orgasm, and the sounds he was making—broken, desperate, almost pained—went straight to my aching cock.
When he finally stopped trembling, I pulled off slowly, licking him clean with gentle swipes of my tongue. He was stillhalf-hard, twitching with aftershocks, and the sight made me feel powerful in a way I’d never experienced before. Marcus Webb, the stoic sheriff of Sagebrush, completely undone by my mouth.
I sat back on my heels, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, and looked up at him. His head was thrown back against the chair, chest heaving, one arm draped over his eyes like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. The other hand was still in my hair, his fingers now stroking through the strands almost absently.
“Jesus Christ,” he finally breathed, his voice absolutely wrecked. “That was...”
“Good?” I supplied, unable to keep the smug satisfaction out of my voice.
He lifted his arm just enough to look down at me, and the expression on his face made my breath catch. It wasn’t just satisfaction or relief. There was something softer there, something vulnerable that made my chest feel tight.
“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he said with such earnest honesty that I actually felt myself blush. Which was ridiculous. I didn’t blush. I was Xavier Hart, professional flirt. I’d been with more men than I could count.
But something about the way Marcus was looking at me, like I’d just given him something precious instead of just a really good orgasm, made me feel exposed in a way I wasn’t used to.
“Well,” I said, trying to regain some of my composure, “I aim to please.”
He reached down, his large hand cupping my jaw with surprising tenderness. “Come here.”
I stood up, my knees protesting slightly from being on the hard floor, and he pulled me down onto his lap. His cock was still out, softening against his thigh, but he didn’t seem to care. Hejust wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world.
I could feel my own erection pressing painfully against my jeans, trapped and neglected, but I was too caught up in the kiss to care. Marcus kissed like he did everything else—with complete focus and intensity. Like I was the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment.
When he finally pulled back, his green eyes were dark and heated. “Your turn,” he murmured, his hands wrapping around my waist.
“You don’t have?—”
But my words were cut off as he lifted me clean off the floor and up onto the desk like I weighed nothing. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I barely had time to process what was happening before Marcus’s hands were on me, tugging my jeans and underwear down my thighs with an urgency that made my head spin. The cool air of the office hit my overheated skin, and I shivered, though whether from the temperature or anticipation, I couldn’t say.
“Fuck,” Marcus breathed, his eyes locked on my cock like he was seeing something miraculous. His hand wrapped around me, and I gasped at the contact. His palm was rough, calloused from years of physical work, and the friction was perfect.
“Marcus,” I managed, my voice already thick with need. I’d been hard since before I’d even walked into his office, anticipation coiling tight in my belly, and now that he was actually touching me, I felt like I might combust.
He stroked me slowly, almost reverently, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the precum that had been steadily leaking. “You’re so smooth,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Not a hair anywhere.”
“I wax,” I admitted, which was a ridiculous thing to be talking about when his hand was on my dick, but my brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. “Everything. I like being smooth.”
Something dark flashed in his eyes, and his grip tightened just slightly. “I like it too.”
Then, before I could respond, he dropped to his knees between my spread thighs, and my brain short-circuited entirely.
“Wait, you don’t have to—” I started, because this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to be the one in control, the one giving him what he needed. Not the other way around.
But Marcus looked up at me with those intense green eyes, and whatever protest I’d been forming died on my lips. “I want to,” he said simply. “Let me.”
And then his mouth was on me, hot and wet and fucking perfect, and I forgot how to breathe.
He started slow, just like I had with him, taking his time to explore with his tongue. But there was an eagerness to it, a hunger that suggested he’d been thinking about this just as much as I had. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he worked me over with a thoroughness that made my toes curl.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped, my hands flying to his hair. It was softer than I expected, thick between my fingers, and I couldn’t stop myself from gripping it as he took me deeper.
He pulled off just long enough to look up at me, his lips slick and swollen. “Tell me what you like,” he said, his voice rough. “I want to make this good for you.”
The fact that he was asking, that he cared about my pleasure even in the middle of this, made something warm bloom in my chest. “You’re already doing amazing,” I told him honestly. “Just... keep doing that.”
