Page 22 of The Last One to Let You Down

And wow, why was that so thrilling to think about?

Did he actually want someone to watch him?

Did he want someone to hear Cypress call him a good boy?

Tom hadn’t thought of himself as particularly boring in bed, but he was starting to reconsider that now. What he had shared with Cypress was by far the kinkiest thing he’d ever done, and it had opened up an entire new world of exciting possibilities.

He’d tried most sexual positions, both bottoming and topping, and he’d tried to date a few women when he was younger. There was one time he and an ex-boyfriend had played with some fuzzy handcuffs and spanked each other a little bit.

As Tom recalled those shallow dives into sexual exploration, he knew they were nothing compared to what Cypress was offering him.

In the brief time they’d spent together, Tom had never felt so calm. His brain shut down, his anxiety faded, and his troubles all vanished, lost in the smooth roll of Cypress’s rich voice. All he had to do was listen, and he could be a good boy.

Just thinking the words again sent a delightful little shiver down his spine.

Tom had never experienced anything like this before, and whatever power Cypress had wielded over him in this hallway was the most intense spell Tom had ever witnessed. He couldn’t wait to see what Cypress would show him next.

But first, he lamented, he had to go home right away and get changed before Bosco asked what was on the front of his shirt.

And his pants.

And his belt.

Fuck, he’d made such a mess.

He also had to make sure Junior got his money as soon as possible.

Standing up, he reached back to check for the stack of cash in his pocket. It was empty. He frantically turned all around the hallway, eyes tracking every inch of the floor.

Maybe it had fallen out somehow while he and Cypress were messing around.

He immediately recalled Cypress’s firm hand right there on his ass, and he angrily kicked the wall when he realized he must have taken it. “That son of a bitch! Damn him! That stupid ridiculously pretty motherfuckin’ son of a bitch!”

Bosco was walking back through the hallway, paperwork tucked under his arm, just in time to catch the last of Tom’s fit. He looked concerned, asking slowly, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to work through some stuff. I’ll be fine.” Tom ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m getting my stuff and going home right now. I promise.”

This night couldn’t possibly get any—

“Huh. What’s all over your pants?”

When Tom woke up the next morning, he knew he had two very distinct problems to sort out before the day was over. Two men in his life were blackmailing him now. Not just one, but two.

The first was his shitty ex-whatever forcing him to sell embalming fluid for illicit use and would be expecting his drug money today.

The second was his hot crush who promised to keep silent about selling said embalming fluid in exchange for sex.

Oh, and he had apparently robbed Tom of the aforementioned dirty money last night.

Tom couldn’t call or text Cypress to confront him about the missing money because they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. He blamed the fuzzy afterglow of the exceptional blowjob for not thinking to ask, but he knew exactly where Doyle’s Flowers was located.

Groaning lightly, Tom dragged himself out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. He would definitely be paying Cypress a visit today. Whatever his reason for taking the money, Tom had to get it back before Junior could try to blab about what was going on.

He grumbled as he found his third problem of the morning, his hard dick sticking against his thigh inside his shorts, no doubt from the morning hour and recalling what had gone down in the hallway with Cypress.

He got the water going and began to stroke himself underneath the spray, trying to handle it quickly. He still had to get dressed, drive to work, and fix the inventory. He should have done it before he left, but he couldn’t stay inside the building a second longer once Bosco started asking what was on his pants.

Tail tucked between his legs, Tom had fled back home and gone right to bed without any dinner.