The thought of his considerable tongue on my body makes my cock pulse, which apparently he feels, because leaving one hand on my butt, the other moves to it, and he runs his thick thumb over the tip.
“I’d like that.” I glance around the office. “Um, but how did you want to…”
“Can I be honest?” He bites his lower lip, and my heart just about melts. “Folks always have fantasies about me. But I have one of my own…”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah?” I swallow hard. “What is it?”
“I’ve always dreamt of bending someone over my desk.”
He closes his eyes and pulls his lips in.
“Oh, Mr. Trainor,” I tease, throwing in a southern accent for fun. “You want to have your way with me here? Right in the office with the shades wide open for all of Crownpoint to see? I’m going to have to call BR immediately.”
Magnus smiles—a big, toothy grin that makes my stomach do a full somersault. I scramble off his lap, shoving binders and papers out of the way like a panicked office ninja. I bend over his desk to straighten things, trying not to make a mess, but wow—my heart is hammering, my ears are warm, and I’m pretty sure I’m radiating panic-fluster energy.
And then I hear it—the wheels of his chair rolling into position behind me. I straighten up, hands bracing on the desk, my ass eager for contact. My body hums with anticipation, and I can barely breathe. One thing is certain: nothing in the mailroom—or anywhere—has ever felt like this.
7
PERFORMANCE RIM-VIEW
MAGNUS
This is wrong.So wrong. I’m the CEO. I’m his boss—technically, his boss’s boss. But I’m pretty sure BR doesn’t give a damn about the technicalities when it comes to… this. Getting involved with a junior strategist? Not exactly a subject line I want for the company newsletter.
And yet… here I am, feeling like a first-year college kid crushing on the hottest guy in class. Of course it has to be him.Of course.
Jamie Torres. Round glasses, pouty lips, that juicy ass… being professional went straight out the window the moment I walked into Vanessa’s office and found him at her desk. I’ve thought about him every single time I’ve jerked off since that first meeting, and now—now he’s here. In my office. Splayed out, ass up, like an all you can eat buffet on my desk.
My chest tightens, my pulse kicks up, and I can’t stop my eyes from drifting to the curve of his back. With the way he’s arching it, his beautiful butt on full display, I’m going to have to pace myself if I’m only going to come once.
Gods, he’s so… cute. Right now, I’m pretty surecuteisn’t what he’s going for, but the way he’s holding onto my desk with his fingers, waiting, pushing back just a little as I slide in between his legs—my cock throbs at the thought of tasting him.
I clear my throat and try to regain some semblance of composure as I place my palms on his butt cheeks. And that’s when I notice it.
“You’re shaking,” I say. “Are you cold?”
“Not even a little.”
“Good, because I’m about to make you sweat.”
He lifts his butt just enough for me to see his cock, firm against the desk. I reach under and pull it back, running my thumb up his shaft to his balls.
“Are you ready for our meeting?” I ask, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“Excuse me?” He turns, eyebrows knitting together in mild confusion.
“The meeting you’ve been waiting for, Mr. Torres,” I tease, letting my voice drop just enough so he feels it through my fingers. “Your ass has a meeting.” I run my tongue along my upper lip, and I spread him wide. “With this.”
“Oh, that meeting. Yes.” He rests his torso on the desk, bowing his back even further. “So ready.”
“You’ve got the prettiest little hole.” I brush my thumb over it, and he twitches the faintest bit. “Are you okay if I take a taste?”
“Magnus, please.” He presses back into my thumb, and I’m grateful for my weekly claw trim appointments. “Please. Please.”
I reach down and palm myself. “Are you begging for it, Torres?”
He lets out a sound, maybe a moan, as he buries his head in his folded arms.
