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  “Yeah, but maybe some other time.”

  “Jesus, come on.” Was that an actual whine? Humiliating. I pressed my lips together to prevent it from happening again.

  “Tell me you’re not complaining.” He lifted a brow.

  “I’m not. I’m saying can’t we just get on with it?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’m not stopping you, am I? I’m just sitting here. You’re free to whip your dick out and jack away anytime.” He gestured expansively, like a lord at a table. “Go ahead. I’ll be here. Or hell, I can leave if you want me to.”

  I glared at him and feathered a touch over my crotch. My dick strained against my boxers, twitching when I touched it, and even as he spoke, another rivulet of precome seeped into the fabric. I growled with frustration because I didn’t want to just stand there and jerk myself off, and he fucking knew it. The fucker knew everything.

  “That’s what I thought.” He nodded down at my open fly. “Go ahead. Slowly.”

  “God, you’re an asshole.” I took my dick out and stroked it slowly, each draft of my hand agonizing torment, my length throbbing and begging for some rough action.

  Next, he told me to rub my thumb over my crown and get myself slick, so I did that, too.

  “Fuck, that’s so hot, Sanders. You’re close aren’t you?” He shifted on the desk. “Want it harder? Faster?”

  “Yes,” I grated out, and he extended his leg, planting the sole of his loafer at the join of my leg and torso. The leather was cool on my skin, and I didn’t even want to think about what all might be on the bottom of his shoe, but there was something oddly erotic about the action that I couldn’t put my finger on, like he was using me and giving me something at the same time—his presence and touch, but only the most basic version, making me yearn for more. Without thinking about it, I slid my hand under the hem of his slacks, skating a touch over the curve of his ankle and locking around the swell of his calf to keep him there while my other hand sped up at his direction.

  Eric inched the toe of his shoe closer to my cock, digging the tip into the mound of hair at the base. Another crackle of electricity ran through me, and I had to slow down and squeeze my shaft to keep from coming.

  He chuckled. “Shoe fetish?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” I pinched my tip. “But I’ve given up trying to predict what the fuck will turn me on when I’m with you.” It was a confession I hadn’t intended to make, but it spilled out regardless, and his gaze danced with generous humor in response.

  Then he hooked to toe of his shoe behind my knee and urged me closer until I stood between his knees at the edge of the desk, still pumping my shaft. The bulge in his pants was huge, and I imagined his thick cock, the veins wrapping around it, the plump crown with its wreath of foreskin. Saliva filled my mouth, and I let out another soft groan that was really more of a wheedling little whimper.

  “I like you like this. So fucking needy. Ready to beg, but not wanting to. All that pride warring against horniness until you can’t take it anymore. And that’s my favorite moment with you, Nate, when you can no longer resist, when that look of yours switches from struggle to surrender.” He spoke softly, so softly that had my entire body not been attuned to him like a fucking SETI satellite, it would have been hard to understand. But the rare use of my given name sizzled over my skin and seduced me.

  As he spoke, he’d edged closer to the edge of the desk, long fingers curling around the lip and his head tipping up toward mine. My hands fell to my side, the tip of my dick settling against his pants. Eric’s lips were close. If I’d bent forward even a couple of inches, they would have been mine. I’d be able to taste that sinuous curve, swallow the words as they spilled from his tongue. Taste him. His long lashes dropped, his lips parted slightly, and I knew what he was waiting for without a fucking doubt. My breath staggered as I went utterly still, captivated. We remained like that for a handful of seconds, immobile as statues and no doubt in my mind what kind of standoff we were having.

  And then he gave this tiny nod as if in understanding. “But still not that, huh?”

  Eric lifted his fingers to my throat, his index finding the point of my chin and tilting it back to force my eyes to the ceiling. His light caress trickled down my neck, and he curled his fingers under so the ends of his blunt nails raked against my stubble with a soft susurration of sound. His warm palm spread briefly over my chest, and then he moved both hands to my shoulders to push my shirt off.

  “On your knees.”

  In one fluid ripple of movement, the pressure of his hands sent me down as he slid off the desk and stood before me.

  “Unzip me and get my dick out.”

  I abandoned my cock and, with shaking hands, wiggled his button free, a shift of his hips accommodating me. I pulled down his zipper to find only skin and the dark patch of hair behind it.

  A slight tilt of his hips had his dick bobbing up in the air between us.

  “What you do to me, I swear, frat boy.”

  “Stop calling me that.” But there was no propulsion behind the words; I was too focused on his cock as he gave it a slow stroke and then rubbed his thumb over the head, gathering up the glistening bead of precome he then extended and smeared across my lower lip. My tongue flicked out automatically to take in the salty sweetness of him.

  “You want me to fuck you, Nate?” He emphasized my name, and damn it sounded so good coming from him. I wished I could hear him moan it. I wished I could hear the syllables of it broken apart by his pleasure.

  “Yes.” Thank God, a question I could answer easily. I wanted to feel him tearing through me, his hands on my hips, breaking me from the inside out.

  “Then get your mouth on me and suck my cock.”

  The anticipation had me jittery because I both wanted this and wanted to do a good job, wanted to give him a sliver of what he gave me, and I had no idea how to telegraph that properly. Why sucking Eric’s dick should be easier than kissing him was still something I didn’t want to think about, but it hung heavy in the back of my mind, so I put my focus on the cock before me, on that thick, swollen head, the bunch of foreskin, the veins and skin shades darker than his body and stretched so tight it appeared tissue-thin.

  Eric settled one hand on the crown of my head, his fingers weaving through the short strands and cupping the back of my skull.

  My skin buzzed with nervous excitement, a wholly different feeling from the arousal still singing through me. The duet of them made me feel high, out of it, like I’d taken a huge rip from one of Mark’s bongs.

  Eric gripped the base of his cock and brushed his head over my lips, painting me with his precome.

  “Goddamn,” he whispered, and the tinge of desperation in it was exactly what I wanted to hear. My mouth parted with the pressure of his dick stroking over it again.

  I leaned forward, eyes fluttering closed as I flicked my tongue out and tasted his tip, the distinct flavor of him unfolding in my mouth, alien and not, and so fucking good that I wanted more immediately.

  I sucked him down, savoring how he filled my mouth, the texture of his skin and how it glided over my tongue.

  Eric yanked my head back suddenly, and my eyes flew open as I turned a startled look up at him. He seemed…undone somehow, some kind of ferocity in his eyes I hadn’t witnessed before and couldn’t quite understand the meaning of. It was almost…anger? But after a moment he gentled his grip on my hair, softly caressing the strands before twisting them in his hands again and nodding.

  “Sloooooooow.” He drew the word out, and I kept my eyes on him, feeling a matched intensity in my gaze as I closed my lips around his tip once more, aware of every millimeter of his length as it slid into my mouth.

  I took in the shape of his flared head, the notch beneath, and when he hit the back of my throat, my eyes watered as it closed up reflexively. With effort, I forced the passage to relax the way I’d done countless times before when funneling beers.

  And then I took him the rest of the
way down until my nose mashed into the wiry nest of his pubic hair and I was submerged in his scent, breathing him in—the spice of his skin, his sweat, the faint musk of his balls. Fuck, it was almost overwhelming.

  He made a choked noise of surprise that turned into a long, satisfied groan as I pulled back slowly. When I looked up at him again, searching his sharp features, I was treated to a split-second reward of exactly what I’d hoped for all day: he was fucking gone, pupils shot wide, eyes glazed with a faraway ecstasy. So of course it was at that moment, when I was blissing out on him blissing out on me, that I sputtered and choked.

  Eric snapped back to the present, trying to suppress a smile as I pulled off his cock and struggled to regain my composure with a few deep breaths.

  “You don’t have to go pro immediately, you know. Trust me, it’s fucking good anyway.”

  “Yeah, might’ve gotten a little ahead of myself there.”

  And then we both burst into laughter—deep, belly-rippling laughter that felt good, that broke through the sexual tension but didn’t erase it, just made it feel…warmer somehow. More intimate. Eric caught my hand as I lifted it to swipe at my spit-smeared jaw. “Uh-uh. I like you like that, covered in me.”

  All right, so be it. I took his balls in my hand and filled my mouth with his meat again.

  “Yeahhhh. Shit that’s good. Lap it up. Get me all wet ’cause I’m coming for that ass in a second.”

  Precome dribbled onto my tongue as I caressed it over his slit. He reached down, grabbing the base of his cock, painting it over my mouth and chin as I eased back. I stuck my tongue out, letting him smack his tip over the surface, push himself inside and withdraw at his own pace.

  He was close, and a part of me wanted to keep going, but I wanted him in me. I fucking needed it. I fisted his shaft and licked up the side, then dropped lower, hesitating only a second before I sucked one of his balls in my mouth. He groaned out, sinking his fingers deeper into my hair, kneading the back of my neck almost tenderly as I lapped at his globes and then licked the shadows where his legs met his pelvis.

  I paused for a deep breath, then looked up at him and said, “Fuck me.”

  Eric’s eyes darkened with arousal, the deep green of them flinty and scrutinizing. His lips parted on a soft breath as he released my hair. I missed his touch as soon as it was gone.

  “Bend over the desk.”

  My dick was so hard and swollen that just the brush of fabric over it as Eric yanked my pants down to my ankles sent a sharp pang though me. I reached down to pull my pants the rest of the way off, but he bit out, “No. Leave them,” then stuck his foot between my knees to wedge them as far apart as the fabric would allow.

  I put my cheek to the cool desk, preemptively tightening up, waiting for an invasion that didn’t come. No touch, no cock. What the hell was he waiting for?

  And then it came, his fingers spreading low over my back, stroking up and then back down.

  He pulled my cheeks apart, kneading my right in his hand, and brushed his thumb over my hole. I sighed out a long, hopeful breath at the promise in his touch. Shit, I might come the second he got inside me.

  The air cracked, and a sting spread its warmth over my asscheek. I barked out a startled laugh as I twisted to stare at him over my shoulder. “Did you just fucking spank me?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned, shameless enjoyment in the wide curve. “And I’m about to do it again.”

  “What the fuck?” I tried to summon up some indignation. Ask me on any given day, and I’d tell you I wasn’t into spanking. But shit, right now? I was.

  “Can’t help it. Got this desire to see my handprints all over the ass I’m fucking.” His smile went sharp as he brought his hand down hard on my ass again, and laughter died in my throat as heat radiated outward. I shifted my weight as it the warmth spread, first along my sides and then down the backs of my legs before it condensed in my balls and tightened them.

  He smacked me once more, and I grunted at the same moment he did.

  “Jesus fuck,” I ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Ready for me?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  He worked me loose, but this time there was no playing around, and soon enough his fat cock head pushed inside me. I shuddered as he paused and traced what I guessed was his thumb around the place where we joined.

  “Shit, that’s so fucking hot. You might actually be the hottest piece of ass I’ve fucked.”

  I clenched around him, turning his raspy chuckle into a moan. “Stop talking and fuck me.”

  “So goddamn mouthy.” He wedged a finger inside me alongside his cock, stretching me into tense-jawed silence. And then he began. Slowly at first, gliding back and forth in shallow thrusts, his hands settling on either side of my ass to keep me spread open. I wondered if I would ever get to do the same to him, or if I’d even really want to. Because the truth was, I liked every second of him taking charge. There was a strange and very subtle sense of balance between us, regardless of who was kneeling for whom. It ebbed and flowed and from one minute to the next, I was never sure where we’d be going. But I knew it would feel amazing.

  I closed my hands over the edge of the desk and held on for dear life as Eric started pounding into me with force, pausing only to slide a hand down the back of my thigh and hike my knee up on the desk. What I meant to be some wry comment about him trying to punch a hole through me came out as garbled syllables when he withdrew and plunged in again. An electric shiver rattled up my spine.

  “Oh shit,” I whispered, each of his thrusts like a high-tide rising, eating away at the shoreline of my restraint.

  “Like it?”

  “Fuck yeah. Don’t stop.”

  He did something with his hips, some sort of wicked-ass limber scooping action that knocked his fat head right against my prostate. With his other hand, he reached around me, and I exhaled in relief. But nope. Instead of fisting my shaft, he grabbed my root between thumb and forefinger and cupped up my balls, staving off my orgasm.

  “Goddammit!” I didn’t even have time to argue before he withdrew and grabbed me by the hips, shoving me down to my knees. He yanked my head back and braced me against one thigh as he snapped the condom off and gripped his cock. “Open.” At the command, my jaw snapped wide like it was on a hinge he controlled.

  He slapped his knob against my mouth, giving me another hit of his salty taste and the faint residue of latex. I flicked my tongue over his tip as he gave himself one more stroke, then came on a groan, his release pouring over me, coating my lips, tongue, and chin. My scalp stung from his grip, but he kept holding on as he drifted his fingers over my cheek and along my jaw, pushing his spunk into my mouth. I sucked them clean, groaning at the sheer filthiness of the moment and the torturous pressure in my balls.

  Urging me upright, Eric steadied me with his hands on my hips, his cock softening and dangling against his pants. Without warning, he gripped my cock and dropped to his knees, taking me into the slippery heat of his mouth. I sagged back against the desk, bracing my hands against the edge and crying out at relief on the horizon.

  Eric hoovered me like nothing else. Scratch that; he flat out Dysoned me as I drove into him and rocked against the finger he thrust inside me.

  “Oh fuck,” I whispered, over and over like a broken record as I punched my hips into him and he just took it like a fucking champ. No, fuck that, he wasn’t just taking it. I didn’t think Eric had “just taken” anything in his life. He was enjoying the hell out of this, the wet smack and slurp of his lips on me, the saliva glazing his chin and lips, dribbling onto the floor, and that feverish gaze pinned to mine so he could witness every second of my fall.

  I shattered on a hard final thrust, feeling my hole clamp down on his finger, the vibration of his grunt as I unloaded into the back of his throat and he milked me dry.

  I slumped backward against the desk, panting through my comedown, my knees weak.

  Eric collapsed almost comically backw
ard as he swiped his forearm over his mouth, then arched his hips, tucking himself away. “Fuck, I’m dead.”

  “Likewise.”

  He grinned as I reached out to help him up. For a single, intense second, our eyes locked together before he backed away, tucking in his shirt, and then tossing me mine after I’d finished hitching my pants up from around my ankles.

  My whole body still reeled from that orgasm, little twitches pinging through me like a car engine trying to cool down. I liked the lingering flavor of him in my mouth, too.

  It took me two tries to get my dick back in my pants and buttoned up.

  “Worth the wait?” he asked, smoothing a hand down his shirt.

  “Yeah. You already knew that, though. You just like to hear it.”

  He shrugged, his mouth quirking up. “I’m a pretty well-established glutton.” After picking up his coat from the back of the desk chair, he slid it on. “Have we done anything you were uncomfortable with, anything you didn’t want to do?”

  I bent over to help him shuffle together a pile of papers that had fallen on the floor. “Nope.”

  “Well, then. I think you can figure the rest out for yourself.” I wasn’t sure if Eric meant what I thought he meant, but before I could even consider what I’d say next, he cleared his throat and continued, flashing me a vacant smile as he tipped his head toward the door. “I’ll go down first. Give it a few, then come on. I’ll hang near the entrance to the ballroom and distract if I need to.”

  I nodded woodenly. “Sounds good.”

  “Have fun cleaning up.” He could have meant the party or myself.

  I scraped a nail across my neck where a bit of his jizz had dried. He turned and started for the door as I tackled the buttons on my shirt, an emptiness settling in my core at how adept we were at segregating ourselves from the past half hour and officially returning to our own lives. It was fucking lonely, and I couldn’t stand it another second.