Page 23 of Love Spell (Witches of London #3)

There was no way, no fucking way, Noah could ever compete with that. Had Timo been a damn sword-swallower to make ends meet back in his early life in Russia?

Timo’s fingers played with Noah’s balls while Noah thrust against his mouth, braced for pain, but Timo let him off easy there, the massaging pressure just right, firm enough to make Noah’s eyes roll back in his head even if Timo hadn’t been swallowing his whole cock, but not so firm as to hurt.

Noah lasted all of a minute with this treatment, and felt he deserved a hearty handshake at least for managing that long.

Whispering steadily to force himself not to cry out, Noah dug his fingers in even harder, gripping hair and skull, pushing into Timo’s mouth until Timo would surely suffocate, while Timo gave every appearance of not minding in the least.

“Timo, fuck, oh… Fuck … ”

How? Timo wouldn’t expect Noah to be capable of such a thing, would he? Could he teach Noah to deep-throat like that? Why hadn’t Noah stepped into the bathroom with him that very first night at the bar when Timo started harassing him?

Most important of all, could they do this again in about half an hour? Noah could think of not one reason to continue working for the day, no matter that it was only lunchtime.

He was still riding his high, spine-tingling remnants of the orgasm making his nerves sing, when Timo pulled back enough to lick final drops from his tip, then run his tongue up the length as if to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

His fingers were gentle, skating down the still rigid shaft with his tongue to give Noah a last jolt before he started to lose his erection and such caresses became uncomfortable.

Noah leaned back into the wall, a sheen of sweat covering his body below the suit that was still mostly in place, gasping with all the dignity of the famed landed fish. He shook from head to toe, fingers rattling against the wall for an instant before he bunched his fists.

One rush leading into the next with the sustained nervous-system drain seemed to have left him with legs made of custard. He had to sink to the floor or he was going to fall, but what about Timo? What was Timo expecting from him?

To his surprise, Timo’s mouth again found his, loose and caressing, wet and tasting of salty, bitter pleasure. Without breaking the kiss, Timo pulled Noah sideways until he could guide Noah into his own office chair. Noah gripped one chair arm, sinking as gratefully as if into a lifeboat.

Timo held his face, kissed him deeply, running in reverse, from wet open mouth to gentle closed-mouth kisses to a final parting touch of a fingertip on his lower lip, as if lightly bidding Noah to hush. From the moment Noah had first kissed him, Timo had not said a word.

He did up his slacks, grabbed the tissue box that saw heavy use battling nosebleeds, plucked out a couple, then gave the box and a water glass to Noah.

“Thanks.” Noah gulped gratefully before noticing what Timo was doing.

Oh. Noah got himself cleaned up while Timo got the wall cleaned up, then handed over the tissues when Timo offered his hand to chuck the whole lot in the bin under the desk.

He turned back to Noah, stepping behind the chair, Noah beginning to feel weirded out by his silence.

He shivered when Timo snaked his arms around Noah’s chest, leaned over him from behind, lips brushing Noah’s skin when he did speak.

“You deserve a proper celebration after today.” Timo kissed his ear.

“I’ve had it,” Noah puffed a little laugh. “What do you call what we just did?”

“A coffee break.” He kissed Noah’s neck.

Again, Noah shivered. Christ, what must the dinner parties be like? He swallowed, suddenly sure he knew why Timo had been quiet for more than thirty seconds at a stretch: scheming.

“I suppose you have something in mind?” Noah asked, hating how breathless his own voice still sounded, how totally ruled by Timo he felt right now and how much it must be showing.

“How about this weekend in Paris?” Timo crooned, lips again brushing Noah’s ear.

“You said we’d start in Rome.”

“I said we’d start the grand tour in Rome. This is only a preview.” Another soft kiss. Noah could feel the pulse pounding in his own throat. “Tonight,” Timo whispered. “Now. We’ll leave whenever you want.”

“How do you have so much free time all of a sudden? You were always dashing into the office from breakfast meetings and leaving it for lunch meetings and going to the gym with insider workout buddies and I don’t even know what all when I first started here.

Now it’s like you have nothing better to do than … well …”

“Spend time with you? It’s true. I don’t have anything better to do than spend time with you.” Trail of light kisses down the side of his neck. “I can do no better. We must make the time for what’s important to us.”

“I thought your work was the most important thing to you.”

“It was. You don’t have to fish. You are the most important thing in my life, Noah. I can book the Eurostar tickets right now. Some trains will be sold out, but I’m sure we can be in Paris by tonight.”

“Just us? What about your pack?”

“They’ll manage to have a lovely weekend right here in London.”

“Speaking of them, you just slammed the door.” Noah, blood still burning, tried to look at him but it wasn’t easy with Timo nuzzling his neck. “Everyone knows …”

“You don’t want them to know?”

“ No. ” Noah again had to force himself to keep his voice down. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Why?” Timo let him go, slipping around to rest on his knees beside the chair so he was looking up at Noah. “Are you embarrassed that I’m in love with you?”

“That’s nothing — no, I’m — Timo, why are you so weird?”

“Am I?” Timo’s tone was mild but there was a glint in his eye, an upwards twitch tickling the corner of his mouth like the spike on a devil’s tail. “On Monday night you called me normal. Right to my face. That really hurt.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Don’t try to distract me. It’s making out — and then some — at work that’s embarrassing.”

“For who?”

“Uh…” Noah shook his head. “Stop it. My point is we can’t do that.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” Timo murmured, trapping Noah’s hand in his. “We’re not even showing off. Door’s closed. If anyone here has a problem with the boss’s closed office door they are welcome to bring me their complaints. Or quit.”

Noah simply looked at him, unwillingly allowing Timo to claim his hand.

“That booking?” Timo kissed his knuckles, then traced the lines in Noah’s sweaty palm with the tip of his tongue. “Ready to go?”

Noah swallowed, able to manage no better than a breathless, “Yes.”