Nothing was going to work. A masked intruder could come in and hold us at gunpoint, and I wouldn’t be able to stop Ryder. Distracting myself from pleasure so sharp wasn’t possible.
When his nose hit my pubes—because, of course, he could take every inch down his throat—he moaned as though I was the one servicing him.
“Fuck. You.” I managed.
He swallowed in response, his throat muscles rippling around the head of my dick with the most perfect, powerful pressure.
As though controlled by an external force, my hand slid to his hair, where I gripped the soft strands and thrust my hips forward even as my one remaining rational brain cell screamed at me to stop.
I’d made a colossal mistake.
Ryder was too damn good at this. He sucked me like he loved the taste and feel of my cock in his mouth. Like this wasn’t a challenge to see who could best the other, but like he’d taken me down his throat for his pleasure as much as mine.
Who the hell could resist something so fucking hot?
He sped up, no longer working on strangling my dick with the back of his throat but dragging his tight, wet lips up and down my length again and again. I glanced down, helpless to look away.
His hair, always perfect and unmoving, stuck out in all directions between my fingers. His cherry-red lips glistened with saliva as they stretched around my length, and his face was flushed with effort. He’d never looked better.
I couldn’t wait to come. I wanted it so badly. I wanted to watch the way his eyes flared as my cum filled his mouth, his throat flexed as he swallowed me, and his satisfaction as I sagged against the wall, spent and blissed.
No!
Shit. I was losing control, making this real instead of a damn bet.
I bit my lower lip to keep filthy words of encouragement from leaving my mouth. I wanted to ask him how much he loved choking on my dick. I wanted to praise him for his incredible skills with that wicked mouth.
No!
My balls were so heavy and full of the load I fought against releasing. Every time my cock hit the back of his throat, my stomach spasmed. I wanted to roar out my pleasure and fuck into his mouth more than I ever wanted anything in my life.
Somehow, as though he knew I stared, he met my gaze. Pleasure, desire, and triumph burned in those blue orbs. He knew he had me. He damn well knew how badly I wanted to fuck his face.
I swear I saw the mischief enter his eyes a fraction of a second before his big hand surrounded my balls. He snuck a finger against my taint and pressed as he dove back down on my cock and swallowed—hard.
That was it. I was powerless to fight against the triple onslaught of sensation to my dick, balls, and that bundle of nerves right behind them.
“You fucking cheat.” I gasped as pleasure exploded from my center outward. My hips left the wall, and I held myself deep inside his mouth as I unloaded every pent-up drop.
Nothing mattered but the incredible pleasure pulsing through my veins, vibrating my muscles, and soaking my brain. No longer was I in my boss’ bathroom with a man I hated trying to win a bet.
I sagged against the wall, panting harder than an Olympic runner as the room slowly came back into focus. At some point, I realized I still clutched Ryder’s hair and had my hips pressed forward, keeping my cock in his warm mouth.
I forced my fingers to open and release his head. My dick slipped out of Ryder’s mouth as he lowered onto his heels with a smirk that should have enraged me, but he’d sucked any fucks I had to give right out of my cock.
He gripped my wrist as I drew my trembling hand back and turned my wrist. “Six minutes and twenty-three seconds,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Shit.
I had my work cut out for me.
Still, I couldn’t muster my usual hatred and annoyance. The benefit of a stellar orgasm, no matter who it came from.
Ryder stood slowly, unable to hide the sizable tent in his slacks.
I blew out a breath and ran trembling fingers through my hair. He’d gotten hard, extremely hard from sucking me off, if the evidence could be believed. Even if he swore he’d hated every second and only blew me to win the bet, his body disagreed and had the hard-on to prove it.
The sight made me feel better, slightly. I’d come like a geyser down his throat. He could have gloated and preened like a peacock, which would have killed my post-orgasm bliss, but he didn’t.
