Page 15 of Pucked Up (Punk as Puck #2)

CHAPTER

SEVEN

HUGO

What was it about this man that had me almost obsessed? The moment I’d seen him at the bar, I was gone for him. Then I walked into the conference room to see his narrowed eyes on me, and it was all over from there. In the weeks that passed, his hatred for me only fueled my fire for him.

Now, he was sitting in front of me, cheeks pink, lips parted and swollen from our kiss, on a knife’s edge, waiting.

Every time I so much as flinched a muscle, his tension grew.

His legs were trembling, his hands in tight fists, his jaw clenched so hard it was going to give him a headache if he didn’t calm down.

And the idea that I could do that for him—that I could work him into exhaustion before making him come all over—was going to my head.

And to my dick.

I thought that spark had gone out with Reid’s death. I had an entire life to live, and I planned on doing it, but I didn’t think I was ever going to feel this alive.

Boden blinked at me, his eyes big, pupils eating away at his irises. “Are you playing with me?” he asked tightly.

I tilted my head to the side, then closed the distance between us again and tilted his chin up. His body was so stiff, but I could fix that. “No. I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

“So what the fuck?—”

I pressed a thumb to his lips, quieting his words. His eyes were blazing fury at me. God, I loved it. “Enough. You can watch your smart mouth, or I can gag you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.

“Ah. You like that idea.” I bent closer to him. “Maybe for next time, hmm? For now, I think we should get you up.”

His cheeks darkened. “I can’t stand like this.”

“You won’t be holding yourself up.” Dropping to my knees, I went for the buckles on his chair that connected to the straps holding his legs down. They were still trembling, but they were calmer than before. His gaze was on me, and I could feel it, almost like a physical thing.

“You’ve done this before,” he said.

I didn’t answer him. I supposed all the rules between us had burned away with the anonymity, but I didn’t want to bring Reid into this. He’d been gone for so long, and this right here, it was between Boden and me .

No one else.

“Stand up,” I said, tucking my arms under his armpits.

He gripped my shoulders tightly and obeyed.

“Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said tightly. There was honesty in his words, and after I spun and propped his ass against the desk, I pulled back to look at him. After a beat, he sighed. “I’m not a child.”

“I hope I haven’t implied you are,” I told him, feeling a little horrified. He wasn’t anything other than a man to me—a strong, careless, reckless pain in the ass of a man. And a gorgeous one.

His gaze cut to the side. “I…people have wanted me because I—because I look young.”

My stomach twisted. I could see it though. Just like people dated men like him because they thought their disabilities made them weak and subservient. Boden liked to be put on his knees. He liked being told what to do, but it wasn’t because of his body.

It was because he was a man always so tightly wound up and obsessed with controlling every facet of his life. He needed someone safe who could hold him and command him when he let go. And for whatever reason, in spite of the fact that he truly didn’t like me, I was that person for him.

“I regret saying it before,” I told him.

He let out a heavy, grunting sigh and shook his head. “Look, it’s fine. I know you don’t?—”

“No. Set your boundaries.”

His gaze held mine, like he was trying to read me, test me, to see if I was lying. I would be patient for as long as he needed to believe me.

After a short forever, he swallowed heavily. “If you’re going to actually live up to your promises, get on with it. I’m starting to think that bullshit in the hotel room was a fluke.”

For a moment, my pride took a hit. I knew he was goading me, but I let it sting. I let the verbal punch land. Stepping in between his legs, I grabbed his jaw lightly and tilted his head to the side. His breath stuttered in his chest as I leaned in and ran my nose up the length of his neck.

“Say that again.”

“I—” He didn’t try to make another sound. “No.”

“Good.” I stopped myself. “Très bon, mon petit feu.” His entire body shuddered, and I could hear him choking off a groan. I gave him a moment to collect himself, and then I leaned back and waited for his eyes to meet mine. “Now, before we do this, we need to come to an agreement.”

His eyes flared. “What kind?”

I met his gaze and held it. “As of right now, you are finished trying to sabotage your team.”

His eyes narrowed, and I could see his anger rising. I loved that he hated being told what to do, because breaking him—forcing him to show how much he actually wanted to be controlled—was going to be so good when he finally gave in.

“You’re finished trying to make me look incompetent.”

He lifted his chin but said nothing .

“When you feel that anger here,” I said and pressed my hand to his stomach, “you’re going to wait for me.

Patiently,” I added, and the shells of his ears behind his hearing aid tubes flushed.

“Then you’re going to come into my office and let it all out here.

” Dragging my hand down, I cupped his rock-hard erection and ran the heel of my palm up the length.

“Fuck, fuck ,” he gasped, rocking into me.

I allowed it. For a moment. But the second I could tell he was feeling really good, I pulled my hand away, leaving him humping the air.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

I laughed softly and shook my head. “Not today, mon petit feu. Today, I’m going to work you up until you can no longer think, and when you’re truly and properly desperate, I will make you come.”

He looked both terrified and wildly turned on. That was exactly how I wanted him. I needed to drive this lesson home. It wasn’t just for me. One man’s bad attitude wasn’t going to make or break my career. But it could make or break his, and he was someone who deserved to succeed.

He just had to get out of his own way first, and I could help with that. Over and over again, I would help with that, until he was ready to let go of all his anger.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” I said as I swayed in closer.

He clenched his jaw in defiance, and I let him work through it. Three long breaths it took before he obeyed, his fingers digging in so hard I could feel the sting of his nails. I fought back a grin as I pressed a hand to his chest and then slowly dragged it down to the waistband of his trousers.

“You’re so well put together,” I murmured, flicking a button on his shirt. “Pressed, freshly showered, hair brushed.”

“So?” He spoke through a clenched jaw.

I grinned and nipped at his neck. “Can’t wait to mess you up.”

“Crisse,” he gasped, his legs trembling again.

I pinned the right one with my hip as my fingers flicked open the button on his slacks and then pinched the zipper. He was so hard and leaking there was a wet spot in front of his grey boxer briefs. I thumbed the head of his cock, covered by the fabric, and he grunted deep in his chest.

“For me?”

“Fuck you. It’s not difficult to make me hard.”

“Mm. I have a feeling that’s not true. I have a feeling you—” I kissed his neck again. “—are a lot of work. And oh , I really like that about you.”

He said nothing, breathing rapidly through his nose. His nostrils were flaring like a bull.

I continued to rub his dick until he was restless, squirming against my hold, and when he started to whine in the back of his throat, I let go.

“Fuck. Why ?” he gasped.

I locked eyes with him. “Because you’re not ready yet.” Then I gripped his cock and began to jack him hard and fast .

“Uh, uh, uh fuck fuck, oh my God,” he gasped, burying his face against my chest.

I curled my fingers into the back of his hair and held him fast, dragging him all the way to the edge. When I felt his dick throbbing and thickening, I let go again.

“No!” He fucked his hips forward, grazing the tip of his dick against my shirt, but I wouldn’t give him more than that. “Fuck you. I fucking hate you so much.”

Tipping his chin up, I smiled at him. “I know.” Then I shoved my hand into his pants and grabbed him by the balls. I knew the way he liked to be handled—rough yet careful. Tender yet cruel. “Open your shirt,” I told him, leaning back to give him space.

He was wild-eyed. “What? Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I could see the fight in him. I could see that he was losing. His fingers were no longer shaking. They were stiff, but that was just his hands. He worked at his buttons, and I saw the struggle, but I didn’t help. I knew that was the last thing he wanted.

He tensed under the scrutiny of my gaze, but he didn’t stop. One by one, the buttons popped open until he had his bare chest on display. It was as hairy as the rest of him—dark, coarse, not thick, but not patchy.

Rolling his balls gently in my palm, I used my free hand to trace around his right nipple and then his left. They pebbled, and he gasped. “You like this?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Repeat yourself.”

I’d almost forgotten he was hard of hearing, and my head had been tipped too far down. “You like this, yes?” I punctuated the sentence by pinching his left nipple firmly between my fingers, holding it down until he lost the control on his gasp.

“Esti de marde,” he swore. “You know I do. Stop playing with me!”

“Why would I do that?” I asked him, smiling.

I removed my hold on his balls, then gripped his dick again and began an impossibly slow, tight motion over his shaft.

It would be better with lube, but I’d remember that for next time.

I’d keep a supply in my drawer because I knew this wouldn’t be the last time he came to me for this exact reason.

He hated it. And he loved it.

He didn’t want to need it, but he did, and that was driving him wild.

“Faster,” he demanded.