Page 20 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

ALEX

I was fucked.

I was so fucking fucked.

Damn Trevor for making me that third drink. Tequila? What had I been thinking?

I’d been thinking about how hot Ryder looked in his snug Henley and black pants, and how I had to be in the same room with him looking so good without the excuse of work to keep me busy and away.

Down went drink number one.

Then I’d been thinking about how he’d ignored me the entire time with not so much as a hello or a what’s up. He hadn’t even glanced away from his conversation with Luke and Dom. Did he even know I was there?

I’ll take drink number two and make it strong, Trev.

And then I started thinking with my dick, drooling at him across the table and fantasizing about how much I’d rather feast on his cock than the damn pizza. I hadn’t even tasted a single bite of the two pieces I’d eaten.

The third drink had disappeared before I knew it, which had to be how I found myself cornering him in the bathroom.

This is a means to an end. If you can keep from coming as long as possible, he will leave your life forever.

Right. At least I still had some rational thinking left. This was a means to an end. Nothing more.

Goodbye, Ryder. I had this in the bag.

I glanced down.

Huge mistake.

Ryder hooked his thumbs in the band of my briefs and shimmied them over my hips and ass, along with my jeans. My cock sprang out with a bounce that had me wincing. I was so damn hard it almost hurt.

“Goddamn, Alex,” Ryder said with awe in his voice. He licked his lips. “Your cock is a fucking work of art.”

Oh shit. The way he stared at me with abject hunger and appreciation while time ticked away had my balls tightening. He acted like he had all the time in the world. Like appreciating my cock mattered to him more than winning.

And it was so hot I nearly begged him to suck me. Instead, I went with my usual charm. “Keep staring. Let that fucking clock run up as long as you want.”

One of his eyebrows arched in a seductive challenge, and I ground my molars so hard, I swear I cracked a filling.

I swear the green fleck in his eye grew when he was turned on.

“Not too worried about it,” he whispered right before wrapping his lips around the tip of my cock and suckling like he wanted to wring me dry.

“Jesus. Fuck,” I cried out, slamming my palms against the bathroom door.

Ryder chuckled, and the vibrations almost made me shout again.

Bills.

Spiders.

Toothless gums.

He tongued my slit, and I saw stars. My eyes rolled back so I could no longer watch him work me over, but I’d lost control of them.

God, that was my favorite. For whatever reason, I loved it when a guy did that to me.

So, of course, he did it again without breaking suction.

The combination of pressure from his lips and direct stimulation from his tongue had me crying out.

Paper cuts.

My empty wallet.

Dog shit.

Ryder coasted his lips down my cock, laving every inch with his wicked tongue as he went.

Nothing was going to work. A masked intruder could come in and hold us at gunpoint, and I wouldn’t be able to stop Ryder. Distracting myself from pleasure so sharp wasn’t possible.

When his nose hit my pubes—because, of course, he could take every inch down his throat—he moaned as though I was the one servicing him.

“Fuck. You.” I managed.

He swallowed in response, his throat muscles rippling around the head of my dick with the most perfect, powerful pressure.

As though controlled by an external force, my hand slid to his hair, where I gripped the soft strands and thrust my hips forward even as my one remaining rational brain cell screamed at me to stop.

I’d made a colossal mistake.

Ryder was too damn good at this. He sucked me like he loved the taste and feel of my cock in his mouth. Like this wasn’t a challenge to see who could best the other, but like he’d taken me down his throat for his pleasure as much as mine.

Who the hell could resist something so fucking hot?

He sped up, no longer working on strangling my dick with the back of his throat but dragging his tight, wet lips up and down my length again and again. I glanced down, helpless to look away.

His hair, always perfect and unmoving, stuck out in all directions between my fingers. His cherry-red lips glistened with saliva as they stretched around my length, and his face was flushed with effort. He’d never looked better.

I couldn’t wait to come. I wanted it so badly. I wanted to watch the way his eyes flared as my cum filled his mouth, his throat flexed as he swallowed me, and his satisfaction as I sagged against the wall, spent and blissed.

No!

Shit. I was losing control, making this real instead of a damn bet.

I bit my lower lip to keep filthy words of encouragement from leaving my mouth. I wanted to ask him how much he loved choking on my dick. I wanted to praise him for his incredible skills with that wicked mouth.

No !

My balls were so heavy and full of the load I fought against releasing. Every time my cock hit the back of his throat, my stomach spasmed. I wanted to roar out my pleasure and fuck into his mouth more than I ever wanted anything in my life.

Somehow, as though he knew I stared, he met my gaze. Pleasure, desire, and triumph burned in those blue orbs. He knew he had me. He damn well knew how badly I wanted to fuck his face.

I swear I saw the mischief enter his eyes a fraction of a second before his big hand surrounded my balls. He snuck a finger against my taint and pressed as he dove back down on my cock and swallowed—hard.

That was it. I was powerless to fight against the triple onslaught of sensation to my dick, balls, and that bundle of nerves right behind them.

“You fucking cheat.” I gasped as pleasure exploded from my center outward. My hips left the wall, and I held myself deep inside his mouth as I unloaded every pent-up drop.

Nothing mattered but the incredible pleasure pulsing through my veins, vibrating my muscles, and soaking my brain. No longer was I in my boss’ bathroom with a man I hated trying to win a bet.

I sagged against the wall, panting harder than an Olympic runner as the room slowly came back into focus. At some point, I realized I still clutched Ryder’s hair and had my hips pressed forward, keeping my cock in his warm mouth.

I forced my fingers to open and release his head. My dick slipped out of Ryder’s mouth as he lowered onto his heels with a smirk that should have enraged me, but he’d sucked any fucks I had to give right out of my cock.

He gripped my wrist as I drew my trembling hand back and turned my wrist. “Six minutes and twenty-three seconds,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Shit.

I had my work cut out for me.

Still, I couldn’t muster my usual hatred and annoyance. The benefit of a stellar orgasm, no matter who it came from.

Ryder stood slowly, unable to hide the sizable tent in his slacks.

I blew out a breath and ran trembling fingers through my hair. He’d gotten hard, extremely hard from sucking me off, if the evidence could be believed. Even if he swore he’d hated every second and only blew me to win the bet, his body disagreed and had the hard-on to prove it.

The sight made me feel better, slightly. I’d come like a geyser down his throat. He could have gloated and preened like a peacock, which would have killed my post-orgasm bliss, but he didn’t.

It was then I realized I stood slumped against the door with my jeans at my ankles and my softening dick hanging out, wet from his mouth.

I cleared my throat, then bent to grab my pants.

Ryder kept his hungry gaze on me as I pulled my briefs and jeans over my ass then fastened the button and zipper.

Neither of us said a word. What could we say?

This situation was weird and stupid as hell, but he’d held up his end, so I wouldn’t back down either.

Six minutes and twenty-three seconds of giving head were all that stood between me and never having to work with Ryder again.

The dip in my stomach had nothing to do with the job. I loved giving head, and even though Ryder was an asshole, I could admit my physical attraction to the man. It certainly wouldn’t be a hardship to get him off, but for whatever reason, my insides swooped.

Once I was tucked away and somewhat decent, I reached for him only to have my hand slapped away with a snort.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Ryder said, chuckling.

My face heated, and the anger I’d been missing a moment ago surged. “What the fuck?”

He raised his hands. “Chill. Don’t ruin all my hard work getting you to relax for once. I’m not trying to back out or anything.” He pointed at the bulge I’d been admiring. “See the state I’m in?”

Ryder’s meaning clicked, and I coughed out a half-laugh.

“Yeah, exactly.” He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the strands as he shook his head. “In this state, I’ll last twenty-two seconds if I’m lucky. No way am I handing you the victory like that.”

What were we doing? This was insanity, and now it had to happen again?

I refused to think about why the idea of another round didn’t repulse me.

I sighed. “You working Wednesday night?”

He nodded.

“Fine. We’ll do something then.” His laughter had me narrowing my eyes. “Well, how would you describe it? This isn’t exactly normal for us. Nor do I want it to be.”

“Ah, there’s the grouchy Alex we all know and love. If you were anyone else, I’d be worried about my oral skills with you getting grumpy three minutes after a big O, but I’m actually shocked you lasted this long without snapping at me.”

“You’re hilarious.” Why did I let him get to me this way? Every time I frowned at him, he patted himself on the back for getting under my skin again. Even with that knowledge, I couldn’t prevent my reaction. I really hated the man.

You sure didn’t hate his mouth on your cock.

“With the bar set this low, it gives me something to shoot for next time.”

“ Next time?”