“Because I love to see this other side of you.” His fingers trail down my spine, sparks left in their wake. “The real you. Who you are, instead of who you’re pretending to be. One day, you might even thank me for it.”
And one day, I might wake up with a beard and a massive vegetable garden. “I don’t think so.”
“Regardless, I don’t think I can stop.” His fingers reach the top ofmy pants, and I have to suppress a shiver. “You bring it out of me. The urge to…misbehave.”
I turn his words over in my mind, analyzing them. “Because you want to be punished?”
He hums happily. “Maybe.”
Suddenly, I have visions of how I could do it. Putting him over my knee and turning his pale skin a cherry red. Tying him to the bed with knots he’d never escape from. Forcing him to his knees and making him choke on my?—
I cut that thought off abruptly. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”
“Yes, I do.” His fingers leave my body, and I have to bite back a groan of disappointment. “You’re the one in the dark right now. Don’t worry, though. You’ll catch up eventually.”
Neo is fourteen minutes late.
Not that I’m counting.
No, I’m trying desperately not to think about the dream that woke me at three a.m. It was different from the usual nightmares of my father torturing me. But I’m not sure this one was better, because I woke to wet boxers, like I was a fucking hormonal teenager again. Worse, I was still hard. Like the one orgasm hadn’t been enough to dispel the fantasy my mind had conjured.
Neo naked, his lithe body arching up, his moans muffled and gagged.
The way I hovered over him, his ankles over my shoulders, my cock tunneling in and out of his tight little hole…
One orgasm hadn’t been enough. Two hadn’t either. After three, my cock finally stayed soft, but there was no hope of more sleep.
Needless to say, by the time my door opens, I’m on edge. Neo’s not. He saunters in, whistling a tune. He’s wearing torn jeans and a tight t-shirt.
It readsI Know the Effect I Have.
My knuckles crack. Did he conjure this up in the middle of the night as afuck youto me?
Probably. Knowing him, he has a screen printing press under his bed. Or maybe he found me twisted in my sheets last night, my breathing heavy, my mind reeling.
He has no idea the effect he has on me, on my dreams.
On what I seem to need.
Or maybe he knows exactly what you need.
He catches my stare and grins at me.
“Where’s my coffee?” he asks, grabbing a chair and pulling it over to my side. It slides over the wood floor, and for a moment, I wonder if it will leave scratches etched in it. Not that I say anything about it. That won’t accomplish anything.
I frown. “I don’t have your coffee.”
Neo tuts. “You should know better. I always function better with it.”
I adjust my tie, which suddenly feels too tight. “Since when am I your assistant?”
He rolls his eyes and shoves the chair as close to me as he can before flopping into it and grabbing my laptop.
I was in the middle of…well, attempting to answer an email. I thought perhaps he’d changed his mind, or was going to outright refuse to assist me.
I didn’t think he’d show up late to fuck with my schedule. I should have known better.
“God, seriously?” he says, looking at my screen and reading the email I’ve been toiling over aloud. “This could have been a text, but unfortunately it’s not…”
