Page 4

4

TATE

I s it possible for a guy to make you come just by talking to you? Bill is certainly putting that theory to the test.

His commanding voice sets every nerve ending inside me at a full, raging wildfire. I don’t waste another second and practically gallop to the bed. My mouth is still hot from his cock, which was even bigger than what I’d imagined. It hangs heavy between his legs as he approaches.

“I didn’t say to sit on the bed.” His voice is low and raspy, chocolate brown eyes half-mast.

I hop off the bed and stand up straight, like I’m in basic training.

He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. His tie stays on. I drink in his broad chest and arms, thick and corded with muscle. His dark chest hair is dotted with grays, just like his beard. His stomach has a faint outline of abs shaded with a line of hair down to his crotch.

Bill hits the gym in the mornings before the office, per his calendar. He calls it sacred time, not to be scheduled over unless it’s an emergency or a request from Edwin. Thank the Lord for sacred time.

“Are you going to blink?” he asks with a smirk.

“Not a chance.” His body is all man, sexy in its imperfection. It’s a body with miles on it. I want to remember every line, every crease, because I won’t get this chance again.

Conversely, I’m a bit embarrassed by my figure. I feel like a boy compared to him. My gym time isn’t as sacred and typically consists of walking on the treadmill during a House Hunters marathon.

“Strip to your underwear,” he says. As a boss, Bill is great at giving direct, clear instructions. Those qualities carry over to the bedroom, too. Lucky for me. Each command makes my dick grow harder.

I shuck off my shirt and tie and drop my pants. My dick tents in my underwear, and there’s no way for me to cover it up. Had I known how this night was going to go, I would’ve worn sexier underwear than tighty-whities. Laundry day comes for us all.

My eyes flick to the windows and my reflection in them.

“Should we pull the curtains?”

Bill shakes his head no. “Don’t you want everyone to watch you get fucked by your boss? They already watched you suck my dick.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but it makes my skin tingle with desire. The windows are floor-to-ceiling. Anyone could’ve gotten a view of me on my knees. I’ve never been an exhibitionist, but this realization makes my pulse quicken and my pitched tent get even pitchier. I want everyone in Chicago to be jealous of me.

The streets and sidewalks are mostly empty because of the blizzard, but Bill and I can pretend there’s a whole crowd for us.

I’m two seconds away from either climbing Bill like a tree or getting on my knees and finishing what I started by the standing desk. The sight of his body frays at my patience. I want him on me or inside me so badly I may combust.

Bill gets up close. The rich scent of his cologne and the natural musk coming off his skin is intoxicating. He grabs my erection and gives it a squeeze, like he’s shaking a hand.

“On the bed. On your hands and knees.”

Never one to disobey my boss, I get right on it.

“Smart guy,” he says.

Fuck. That’s what he loves to call me after a job well done in the office. Here it takes on a darker, sexier tone that makes me putty in his hands.

Cool air seeps through the thin fabric of my underwear, hitting my crack.

Bill puts his face against my ass, his moan vibrating through me and tightening my core. He rubs his face around in there, up and down my crack and brushing against my hole. I am on fire, and I haven’t even taken my underwear off.

My boss does that for me with a hard yank. My underwear bunches at my knees. I wish he’d ripped them off entirely. Bill probably wants to reserve some decorum.

“Can’t wait to taste you, smart guy.” He slaps my right cheek, then my left. I am speechless, left dead in a Bill-sized ditch, reduced to unleashing a grunt of approval into the comforter.

Bill spreads me open and spits on my hole. He flicks his tongue around my opening, his hot breath melting me into a helpless puddle of need. He groans greedily, the prickles of his beard on my taint setting off every nerve ending of mine.

This is far and away the best rimjob I’ve ever received. Past boyfriends and hookups have either sped through this step. A quick spit and lick so they can get onto fucking. Or they acted like Tasmanian Devils down there, going so fast and wild that my ass is numb by the time they stick it in.

But Bill knows what the fuck he’s doing. He takes it slow, measured. He’s savoring me. Just when he starts to go fast, he pulls back, making me crave his touch.

He’s toying with me. I like it.

I fist the comforter. The only word I can say is yes, and I moan it over and over.

I want him to fuck me so bad. But I also want him to keep eating me out with that miracle tongue. Should I be doing more besides moaning into the bed? As an assistant, I’m not used to my boss taking care of my needs. I wave my hand behind me and stroke his cheek, an absolutely pathetic attempt to pleasure Bill.

Bill gently moves it away. “You don’t have to do anything but enjoy it. Consider this part of your annual bonus.”

For Christmas last month, Bill got me a lovely scarf from Nordstrom. I much prefer this.

My body clenches with unbidden lust. My cock leaks pre-come down my leg. I desperately want to come, but we aren’t even at the main course.

“Fuck me, Bill. I want to feel you stretching me open.”

Throughout his epic rimming, he finds moments to massage my back and give my side a squeeze. As much as I proposed being his blow-up sex doll for a night, these sweet gestures let me know he’s looking out for me.

With a sure hand, Bill flips me on my back. He downs my cock, his busy tongue lapping up my pre-come. An incredible blow job to chase that heaven-sent rimming? What did I do to deserve such a great lover? I want to send Bill a muffin basket or something in the morning.

His thumb rubs on my hole as he sucks my cock. My legs wobble on either side of him. I keep myself from thrusting my hips up so I don’t blow my load. But Bill is surely pushing me toward the edge. He brushes my cock against his beard. That beard is its own sex toy at this point. He knows how to use it.

Bill drifts up, his large body covering mine as he flicks his tongue on my nipple, giving it a little bite. I hiss with lust. Every pore of me is on pins and needles.

And then he does the most unexpected thing of all. He kisses me. I get to experience that hot breath and miraculous tongue up close. Like when he was downstairs, it’s a slow but firm kiss. He’s savoring me again. In that moment, I want Bill in new ways. I want these kisses on a regular basis. I want to feel his arms around me when I wake up.

My crush on my boss has always been lust-focused. And sure, there’s a lot about Bill to like besides his body. He’s thoughtful, sweet, intelligent, wonderful with people. But entertaining romantic feelings for my boss was a line I never let myself cross. My history is a battlefield littered with corpses of toxic relationships that all started because I let myself fall for a guy. Why ruin this perfect night? I told Bill that all I wanted to do was fuck him. I have to stay true to my word.

But a guy can still enjoy a great kiss.

“Are you going to fuck me or what, Mr. Crandell?”

Bill’s face splits wide with the purest smile I’ve ever seen on him. If my heart were involved in this fuckfest tonight–which it’s not–it would be melting right now.