Page 52 of Emmett
Me:I’m thinking about spreading you open on this table and fucking you until you see God.
He reaches for his phone so casually that I wonder my number is saved as; he worries so much about his father knowing about us that if ‘Nash’ was written across the screen, he would have panicked.
I would fucking love to see Colt Fowler’s face seeing that message on his son’s phone with my name attached to it. He acts so cool and collected all the damn time, I would love to see him just snap one of these days and go completely postal.
Sipping on his water, Emmett reads the text message, and his eyes go wide. He sputters, choking on his drink, and he puts his hand to his chest as he tries to breathe.
“Excuse me,” he coughs, “sorry. Wrong pipe.”
“Next time we’ll bring your boy a sippy cup,” I taunt Colt. “Since he can’t seem to drink from a big boy glass.”
The cowboy scoffs. “Man, would you shut the fuck up?”
“No one here has tolikethe other,” I tell them, ignoring the attack dog. “One just needs to see the potential here.” I pull my feet from the table and stand, closing the folder layingopen in front of me. “Take a few days, think about it. The offer stands until the first of the month.”
I move past the table, giving Emmett’s foot a light tap with mine as I move to open the door. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at our shared secret while he gathers his papers. We avoid eye contact with one another as he passes through the door with his team in tow, making their way down the hallway.
I take my seat at the table once again and flip through some of the notes that I’d taken during the meeting, sipping on a glass of water as I do so, until the door opens again and Emmett steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“What are you doing, pretty boy?” I chuckle.
“Do it,” he tells me as he reaches for the buckle of his belt. “If you’re gonna talk about it, follow through.”
“You’re very loud,” I tease, despite the swelling of my cock behind my zipper.
“So shut me up.”
Pulling at the knot of my tie, I stand from my chair. “How long do we have?”
“I told them I was getting lunch.”
“Good.” Dropping the tie onto the table in front of us, I meet Emmett’s gaze and he offers a nod in understanding. “Take off your clothes.”
Looking over his shoulder at the door behind him, he peels off his suit jacket and carefully folds it before placing it onto the table. I watch, slipping out of my own slacks as he removes the rest of his clothing, folding each article just as carefully as the one before it until they all sit stacked on the table in a neat pile.
Taking hold of his shoulder, I push him against the table and ball the silk tie in my hand before stuffing it into hismouth, earning a grunt in response. “You behave yourself,” I warn him with my lips pressed against his ear, “or you don’t come. Do you understand?” Annoyance pinches his brows together, and I grab onto the back of his head with a hard yank. “Nod if you understand me.”
He offers a nod accompanied by muffled and inaudible words, which I assume are him giving me attitude, as he likes to do.
Kneading the firm flesh of his ass, I spread him open and spit. He lets out a groan as I tease his hole with the head of my cock, and another as I slowly push inside of him.
“Are you going to behave and stay quiet so you can come?” Squeezing his eyes closed against my thrusts, he nods. “I think I like you better gagged,” I tease.
For long moments – much longer than I expected – the only sounds in the room are those of the two of us breathing heavily and the slapping of my skin against his. The air is thick with sounds that both of us want to make, but won’t – or can’t.
It’s exhilarating.
The din of office chatter, high heels against the tile floor, and telephones ringing spill in through the walls surrounding us and, though no one can see inside, it feels as if we have an audience.
That’s right, I think,watch me fuck Colt Fowler’s son on the same table we just used for deliberation.
“You are my favorite fuck toy,” I quietly purr to him, pressing my chest against his back.
His hand flies up to clamp over his face and a whimper escapes him, muffled through his gag. His eyes fly open and he looks at me as if he’s worried that he’ll be punished for it.
I have to show him that his worry isn’t unwarranted.
Taking Emmett’s hand from his face and the other, braced against the table, I pull them behind his back and use them as a handle while I fuck him harder, pounding my hips against him. His body writhes against mine as his eyes roll back in his head.