Page 32

CHAPTER 32

ASHTON

The glazed look in Marcus' eyes as he follows me out of the file room makes me feel freaking powerful. He doesn't think this is a good idea, has been saying all night that it's a terrible risk. Yet he's still following me, eyes on my ass like he's in a trance.

True to the good boy he is, Marcus makes a feeble attempt at protesting. "Maybe we should take this somewhere else?" But there's no real feeling behind the words. He wants me as badly as I want him, and watching me squirm all night has made him just as horny as I am.

Once I lead him around my father's massive mahogany desk, I turn and look at him pointedly.

"I have had your little surprise inside me for over two hours. There's lube dripping down my ass crack, and every step I take puts more pressure on my prostate. I'm lucky I was able to kneel down in that file room without blowing my load before you even touch me. I've dreamed of this, right here. Being bent over and ravaged in the one place he considers sacred. I want to sweat and cum all over his precious desk, while getting railed by the one person he feels threatened by."

I'm breathing heavily just from spitting all of that out in quick succession, most of my words blending together and probably not making sense. I know it's probably not healthy to want to defile your father's desk, but there's a sick part inside me that wants to do something he can't ignore. He's ignored me most of my life unless he needed me for a business deal, until Marcus Vell came into the picture. He wants to take him away from me. And I want to show him I can't be controlled.

Marcus stares at me, his blue eyes sharp. A curl flops over his forehead, reminding me of how he looked when he was younger, when his hair was longer and more unruly. The stern, heated look on his face, however, doesn't remind me of anything but sex. My cock pulses at the unspoken danger in his gaze.

Without taking his eyes off me, Marcus leans down and swipes an arm over the desk. The keyboard clatters to the ground, a whole stack of files slides across the desk, papers go flying, picture frames topple.

"Come. Here." He says, voice almost menacing.

I don't waste a fucking beat. Like a puppet on a string, I'm an inch in front of him in no time at all, the desk pressing into the backs of my thighs.

"Jacket," Marcus murmurs, and I start working the buttons of my tux while Marcus unfastens my pants. I toss the jacket at the same time my pants slide down my thighs and pool around my ankles, leaving me in my white dress shirt, silky purple bow tie, and matching purple jock that's about a size too small. The elastic bands are digging into my skin, my cock protesting captivity behind the purple silk. Half the fabric is drenched with precum.

"I want to rip the shirt off you, but you'll need to wear it out."

He thinks I actually give a fuck?

Unbuttoning the first two buttons under my bow tie, I grip both sides of the lapel and tear the shirt down the middle. Buttons fly off and ping everywhere. I struggle a little with the cufflinks that I forgot about, then I'm finally free of the stupid garment.

Marcus is fully clothed, looking like fucking James Bond if he was a porn star. One hand in his pocket, the other makes a circular motion with his finger, instructing me to spin. As I follow his instruction, I realize just how exposed I am. I'm wearing nothing but my bow tie, the too-tight jock, and black dress socks. Maybe I should feel silly, or embarrassed, but the way Marcus is looking at me right now could rid me of any need for porn for the remainder of my life. All I need to do is lock that expression away in my mind's eye, and I'll have effective spank bank material every time. I keep turning until my back is to him, showing off my ass in the jock, with the straps digging into my skin.

"Bend over."

My body folds, palms slapping against the polished wood without a nanosecond's hesitation.

Marcus steps up behind me, running his fingertips down my back, my sides, over my hips, and down my thighs. He fits a finger under one of the straps cupping my ass and snaps it, and the sound echoes in the room. A small whimper escapes me and I hope he didn't hear it, because I'd like to pretend to have some semblance of dignity.

Oh, who am I kidding?

"Please, Marc."

"Shhhh, baby. I'm admiring how your ass looks for me right now. It's so pretty and ready, your hole clenched around that toy I got you." His fingers tickle down my crack, stopping over the base of the plug he put inside me before we got dressed. He taps it, and a shiver runs through me.

"You—” I clear my throat, "You like how it looks?"

"You have no idea how pretty you are, baby." He drapes his chest over my back, running his hands up the sides of my waist, lips brushing my spine. "But it'll look even prettier when it's swollen and red and dripping with my cum."

Fuck.

My arms shake with the need coursing through my body, and I lower myself to my elbows. Marcus hums and presses between my shoulder blades, flattening my chest against the desk. He keeps one hand on my back, while the other grips the base of the plug. He toys with me until I'm squirming and begging, fucking me with the silicone plug that's been living inside me for far too long. Finally he takes it out, giving me some hope that we're going to get on with it.

"So fucking wet and open for me," Marcus growls. Did he just fucking spit inside my asshole?

"Jesus, Marc! Can you please just fuck me already?!"

"It's only your second time, Ash. I'm not trying to break you."

"Do it. Fucking break me, please. I can handle it. I want it. I need it," I almost cry with desperation. "You need to take me hard and fast, before someone comes looking for us, remember?"

I have zero fucks to give if someone is looking for us or finds us. Part of me loves the thrill of getting caught, of having anyone walk in on us and seeing Marcus' big cock wrecking my ass.

There's a zip and a rustle of fabric behind me. A foot kicks between my ankles, widening my stance. More lube from the packet he put in his pocket drips inside my ass, and I moan loudly as his fingers push the lube inside me.

"Hold on to the edge of the desk," he orders. I comply.

And then holy fuck, he's there, shoving into me in one deep, powerful thrust. He doesn't give me time to adjust. He takes me at my word that I can handle it and he fucking gives it to me.

The breath leaves my body as Marcus impales me with his massive fucking cock, hard and fast, over and over. My fingers dig into the edge of the desk, scrambling to hold on as I am truly railed within an inch of my life. Guttural cries accompany the breath that gets pushed out of me with every punishing thrust.

It.

Hurts.

So.

Good.

The heavy desk is rocking beneath us, trying to shift as the two athletes on top of it fuck like wild animals. If anyone walks by, there's no possibility that they wouldn't know what's happening in here. The desk is rattling with the same rhythm of skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths are laced with grunts, and I'm moaning like a farm animal. Marcus is a fucking machine.

"I want to see your face when I fill your ass," Marcus growls between gritted teeth.

In a quick fluid movement, he pulls out of me but only leaves me empty for a moment. He manhandles me, flipping my body over so I'm laying with my back on the desk, legs in the air. Gripping my thighs firmly, he yanks me to the edge and shoves into me again. I cry out with the new angle, the sharp hit to my prostate making my cock jerk uncomfortably in the tight underwear. Marcus slips his fingers into the crotch of my underwear, lifts, and yanks it to the side. It rips just enough to loosen the fabric, and my cock springs out the side.

He looms over me, looking deliciously disheveled. His jacket and shirt are open, bow tie loosened and pulled to the side, pants down around his ankles. His hair has given up his attempt at a gelled-back look and is flopped over his sweaty forehead. His cheeks are pink, ears and neck beet red. Blotches of red stain his exposed skin. He's fully debauched. I can only imagine what I look like.

"Take your cock out, baby. Take it out and show me how good it feels to be fucked by your enemy on your rich daddy's desk."

Marcus hooks his arms under my knees and starts pounding into me like a jackhammer again, lifting my ass off the desk. With every hard, fast thrust, he punches my prostate relentlessly, to the point where I might not even need my hand to get off, but I still want all the delicious friction. Unintelligible words and moans pour from my lips like the sweat pouring from my skin, or the precum leaking in steady rivulets down my cock. I use it to lube my hand as I wrap a tight hand around myself and stroke furiously.

"Don't come," Marcus barks, and I want to cry, but I let go of my cock and try to find purchase with my hands flat on the desk next to me. I nearly knock over the large monitor when Marcus' last few thrusts slam into me. His thrusts grow even more frantic, watching my cock bob as he rails into me. And then he comes with a moan, muffled into the side of my knee. I'm reeling as he pulls out, stands me up, turns me around, and enters me again. With his cock lodged inside me, he reaches around and grips my cock.

"You wanna come all over your daddy's desk, Princess?"

" Ffffuuuuuccckkk pleeaaasseee —” I gasp as Marcus rolls his hips into me, my sore ass clenching around his still pulsing cock as he reaches down to cup my balls. "Marcus—” I warn, not sure I can stop what's about to happen.

"Come for me, Princess. Let me see that big load I know you've got in here."

Marcus squeezes my sack, pulling down just roughly enough to make my senses go haywire. My cock spasms and starts shooting wildly. I steady it with my hand, pumping out my release all over the surface of the desk. Catching the rest in my palm, I smear it into the rest of the mess, swiping it further up the shiny wood surface when Marcus rolls his hips into me hard, riding out the last aftershocks of my orgasm.

" Nynghh— Fuck, baby, your ass is milking me for every," — thrust -—"fucking" — thrust —"drop"— thrust —“ Nnnyygggfuuuuuck.”

He slumps over me, my chest squelching into the pool of my own cum as we suck in breaths and try to come down.

Marcus gently kisses my back as he lifts himself off me, only to plop down bare-assed on the desk chair. He scoots the chair behind me, running his hands up and down my legs and over my ass. Then he spreads me wide, leaning in so close I can feel his warm breath on my skin. "Fuck, Princess. You're wrecked." His lips dot kisses over my ass. "How do you feel?"

My head is spinning, my muscles are sore, and my ass is aching.

"Pretty fucking fantastic," I sigh contentedly.

"That was brutal. Your poor little hole is so fucked out."

Fingers brush over the sore area, and I gasp.

"Alright?"

"So good," I moan.

"Can I touch it?"

"It's yours to do whatever you want with, baby."

"Baby?"

"That okay?"

He answers me by pressing his lips to my hole, his wet tongue snaking over the sore flesh.

"Fucking hell, Marc. What are you doing to me?"

"I could ask you the same question," he murmurs, soothing me with his tongue some more.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to get hard again, and as much as I'd like a repeat performance…"

"The post-nut clarity is hitting and you're a little afraid of what the fallout is going to be?"

I chuckle nervously. "Yeah, a little."

"Me too, honestly. Let's get dressed and maybe clean up a little," he says, pushing the chair back and helping me off the desk. "We can leave little traces, like a smear of cum under the desk where his pant leg might catch it."

"Ooh, spit on his toothbrush in the bathroom. Or in the soap dispenser." I snicker. "What? Don't look at me like that. Do you know how much joy I would get out of knowing that my father and all his power-abusing asshole friends washed their hands with the cum that you slurped out of my ass after putting it there in such spectacular fashion?" I pause and narrow my eyes. "You owe me more, by the way. You were supposed to fill me up and then plug me up so it couldn't escape," I pout.

"Your ass is too swollen to even consider it. I really wrecked that poor thing."

I sigh contentedly again. "So fucking good." My cock jumps a little, still hanging out the side of my jock.

"Put that thing away before I get any more ideas."

"Ideas, you say?" I wink as I fix my underwear and pull on my pants.

Marcus is almost fully dressed, buttoning up his shirt, before he answers me.

"I didn't bring enough lube for you to bend me over any surfaces. But maybe next time we can defile that conference table?"

My mouth gapes open. Is he being serious?

I'm so in my head, imagining all the ways I would fuck Marcus, that I forget how to dress myself.

Soft and sweet. Hard and fast. I'd never be able to hate fuck him the way he does me, but I can imagine pressing his face against the conference table while I watched my cock disappear inside that delicious fucking bubble butt of his. Or maybe we could climb up on top of the table and he could ride me until the whole thing breaks and collapses to the floor. Or maybe…

Marcus buckles my pants for me, then helps me slip my jacket on, sans shirt. He finds the discarded garment on the ground and uses it to wipe up the cum, but mostly only succeeds in smearing it into the wood before tossing the shirt in the small trash can hidden under the desk. At some point, I shake myself out of my stupor and manage to pick up a few things. I'm stacking up some of the papers that flew off the desk when I see it. On the edge of the desk, face down and damp from where my face rubbed against it as I got railed. A page from a document, the rest of the pages spread out on the floor.

"What the actual fuck?"

Marcus comes to my side. "What is it?"

I hand him the paper. The one we just fucked on top of. And then scramble to pick the rest of them off the floor, setting on them on the desk. We work in silence, putting them in order, then look up at each other.

The last will and testament of Lorena Vell-James stares at us from the pile of crinkled papers. Next to it, there are two wills for a Mr. Ashton James. One that includes clauses and inheritance for Roman Vell. There's even a letter for him, which has been opened. The paper is so worn, it seems like it's been read over and over again.

Marcus tucks the letter into the inside his jacket, then wordlessly starts taking pictures of the wills with his cellphone. Smart thinking. We might not be able to sneak out of here with a thick file shoved under our clothes.

It's only because we are so quiet with focus that I hear the voices. Running over to the door, I hear my father's voice, and maybe two others. It sounds like they are ascending the stairs. I flick off the light, which startles Marcus. He looks up from the desk, and I hold a finger over my lips. Nodding, he stands up and arranges everything back on the desk as close to neatly as possible while I turn off the light to the file room and pull the door close. I switch off the lamp just as I hear my father unlocking the double doors, and we escape into the conference room, pulling the door shut with a quiet snick just as my father and his two guests walk into the office.

"Listen, Governor, I understand what you're saying, but you surely understand how things work by now. I'm not going to pour my money into your campaign for nothing. You told me you could get me the sale, Thom. I've got my contractors lined up and ready to go, and I'm just sitting on these plans. I need a guarantee that we'll be in business by the end of the year at the very latest."

"Even if I can facilitate the sale without rousing suspicion, you can't just buy up public housing and kick people to the curb. It'll take months to relocate all those people."

My father scoffs. "If anything, the people of Pinecrest will be thankful to have luxury condos downtown instead of dirty slums. They'll thank you."

My stomach roils, and my face burns hot with embarrassment that someone I share a bloodline and a name with could be this vile. I'll be lucky if Marcus wants anything to do with me after overhearing this. I knew my father was involved in some shady dealings, but demolishing public housing to build luxury condos? Why am I even surprised ? Isn’t that exactly what he did to the town's small business district so he could develop the land and sell out to big name companies? What he did to Marcus' father…

"I can't push it now, not when my approval ratings are already low after the environmental committee debacle. I need to focus on re-election. Once my position is secure again, I can work on pushing the sale through under the table."

"Funny you should bring up the environmental committee, Thom, because you fucked that up for me, too. I sank millions of dollars into that deal for nothing. Seems to me I should stop sinking money into a lost cause."

"It was protected land, Mr. James. There was no way of knowing those kooky environmentalists were going to pull together a protest like that, or that they'd be able to dig into my financial records and start questioning why I was receiving campaign donations from the one company that was going to benefit from the environmental protection reform bill I introduced. I'm lucky I wasn't impeached."

"It's not my problem you got outsmarted by a bunch of damn hippies. You have a month to get me that sale, or I'm going to turn my attention to someone more effective. I heard Nicole Hales is considering running."

He wouldn't.

"Nicole Hales is not electable. She's a fanatic and no one likes her."

"If there's one thing we learned in the last national election, Thom, it's that if you have enough money and rile up a voter base enough, you can do whatever you want. The fact that she's so extremist might actually work in her favor these days."

"Considering your own son just made a public appearance and showed up to your event with another man on his arm, you really want to back a candidate that is so vehemently anti-gay? Didn't she compare same sex marriage to bestiality? Loudly and publicly?"

"Don't you worry about my son. He knows how to behave in public, and he'll fall in line. As far as the media understands, Ashton brought a friend back from college for the party."

My body tenses, rage pulsing through my veins. If Marcus wasn't here to hold me back, I don't think I'd be able to stop from busting into that office and telling him exactly how I'll be behaving in public from now on.

But thankfully Marcus is there, and he leads me away from the door just as we hear, "Mr. James, what happened to your desk?"

With a quick glance at each other, Marcus and I make a silent agreement that now is the time to get the fuck out of here. Our mouths move at the same time.

Run.