by Hunter Frost
Instantly my gaze went to his crotch, and I forced myself not to react. The bulge in his slacks was undeniable.
I tried to steady my hands.
“That’s impressive,” he replied, and I thought the same of that mountain in his lap.
“It always interested me.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said and chuckled.
I switched to Alejandro’s other foot and went through the same motions, rewarded with more sexy whispers of satisfaction.
Did he know he was sporting wood? Did he care? Did this mean . . . something?
No, I shouldn’t read too much into this; that was a dangerous path to go down.
I was both excited and afraid of what might happen if I kept massaging.
To save myself, I brought up work as I continued, and we talked briefly about the schedule.
He grabbed his laptop and took notes, covering his erection in the process.
For the remainder of the project, he said he wanted to stay out of my way except for a few key meetings, which was fine with me.
Every once in a while, he’d moan or sigh when I hit a tender spot, and I’d try not to stutter or shake.
He finally glanced over his laptop at me, holding my gaze, his gray eyes dark as slate. I coughed and looked away. Any more of this and there’d be problems. I reached for my iPad. “It’s nearly noon. And I’m . . . um, meeting Parker and Charlie for lunch.” That was a lie. My lunch with them was tomorrow. But I needed to get out of there before I did something I’d regret. Having Alejandro’s feet in my lap, moaning at my touch, was getting to be a little too much.
“You . . . wow . . .” He swallowed. “I’ll be honest, that was awesome. I really . . . enjoyed it. Thank you.”
I assumed he was subtly referring to his arousal, and I blushed, unable to meet his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
He leaned to the side, and I removed my hands from his feet. They instantly missed the feel of his silky soles.
“I wish you could do that all day, but I would hate to deprive the world of your other abilities.”
He smiled at me and put his feet back on the floor.
I tapped on my iPad.
“I’ll send you my notes,” he said, sliding his shoes back on. “And I trust you’ll reconvene with the teams to go over the details.”
“Of course. I’ll keep you posted and share the minutes to our sessions.”
I could feel his eyes on me as I got up, but I kept the iPad in front of me to hide anything still visible.
I wished I could go straight home and take a cold shower.
“Say hi to Parker and Charlie. I haven’t seen them for a while now.”
“I will,” I said as I turned and walked out, very aware that Alejandro continued to watch me until I was out the door.
Chapter Eight
Alejandro
I stared after Ellison long after he’d left.
My god that was hot. And he wasn’t even touching my skin. I could only imagine what that would be like. I shuddered at the thought of it.
Talk about a master of his craft. Never did I expect having my feet massaged would turn me on so much. At first, I thought it was the massage alone, but I had a feeling if anyone else was there at my feet, it wouldn’t be the same.
Knowing how much El loved feet made me more receptive to his expert hands, more aware of his change in breathing, and more aroused with each nervous stutter.
And he really made sure that iPad was in the correct spot.
He had to have noticed the tent in my pants before I could get my laptop to cover it. The state I was in, I didn’t care. I almost said as much to Ellison, but I was afraid I’d scare him off.
Here I thought I could seduce him, and he had turned the tables on me without even trying.
Fuck.
Reaching down, I gripped my cock through my slacks. My hard-on was still raging, but Wendy was here, and I couldn’t risk taking care of it. With my luck, she’d walk in before lunch and I’d be fired for indecent exposure.
I’d just have to get sweet, adorable, and hella-kinky Ellison out of my head.
Easier said than done.
“Hermano, are you even here tonight?” Jorge said, pushing himself up to the bar next to me. “You’ve barely looked at me!”
Which was a feat in itself. Jorge was not one that you could ignore. Tonight, he was dressed in a naughty elf costume, which consisted of bright red hot pants, a cropped vinyl jacket lined with fur, a tall-and-pointy green hat, and white platform boots.
“I’m sorry, mija. I’m exhausted.” I tossed back a shot of whiskey and motioned to the bartender for another.
“Come dance with me. It will cheer you up.” He grabbed my hand, wiggling his ass to the thump of the remixed techno version of “Jingle Bells.”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. But for the record, you look delicious in that outfit. I’ll never think of elves the same way again.”
He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “You can talk to me, you know.”
“I can hardly hear you in here,” I deflected.
He gave me a sideways glance. “Okay, viejo, but the offer stands.”
I cringed. Old man. Yeah, that’s me. At thirty. “Thanks, Jorge. But I’m going to take this last shot and head home.”
He nodded and put his thumb and pinky next to his head to remind me to call him.
I raised my shot in his direction before I knocked it back.
He turned and danced back through the crowd and the lights toward the middle of the floor. I watched his bobbing green hat until it disappeared.
Jorge was one of my long-time clubbing buddies. But I honestly knew as much about him as the rest of our group that literally met on the dance floor. We all partied, drank, danced, and hooked up with any hotties interested. Jorge and the others didn’t even know it was my birthday a week ago. We had an unwritten rule not to discuss age or anything else that delved into deeper personal territory. Those kinds of details were kept under lock and key. Most of our expressions of love and friendship came when we were wasted. The I love yous would be thrown about after shots and cocktails. I knew Jorge the best, and if I was ever in trouble, I trusted him to get me out of it. He’d gotten me home when I was too trashed to function, and once hit a guy over the head with a vodka martini when the guy tried to grind up on me without my permission. Jorge was attractive, but there’d never been any chemistry between us. Besides, he was a bottom like me.
When I came to San Francisco from Spain at eighteen, I didn’t want close friends or any type of relationship. I was afraid of being completely alone, but if I kept everyone at arm’s length, I could control the hurt.
And it was a good thing I preferred my independence considering I had no real family to catch up with either. My parents had made it clear I was not welcome in their lives because of my homosexuality. It split my family apart. The majority of my brothers and sisters took my parents’ side, while two of them took mine. In the end, it was easier to leave everyone behind. They all reminded me of the pain I’d put them through.
I sighed, my thoughts turning back, yet again, to Ellison for the twenty-somethingth time since the massage in my office.
Why couldn’t I get him out of my head?
Because I want him. That had to be it. I was obsessed with something new and different.
It happens when you’re going absolutely nowhere with your life.
I was a VP of a prestigious marketing firm. I partied all night. I could buy anything I wanted. I could get laid by snapping my fingers.
So why did I feel like I was merely spinning my wheels? What did I want?
It never used to matter. I figured it would all come to me as time went on. I had fun. Fun was all that you needed in life, right?
Work hard. Play hard. Casual sex, dancing, drinking . . .
But where would that get me? Same place I was ten years ago. Nowhere.
Thirty sucks.
I paid for m
y shots and grabbed my coat at the door. The night was cold and biting.
I took my phone out after I caught the trolley. I wondered if El was still up.
Me: You awake?
I’d had no intention of texting him. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.
El: Yeah. Everything okay?
He must’ve still thought it odd to get late night texts from his boss. Imagine that.
Me: Everything’s fine. I’m on the trolley home.
El: From the bar?
He did know that much about me. But who didn’t?
Me: It was Shiny Jingle Balls night at Beaux.
El: That sounds . . .
Me: Horrible, I know.
El: Thank god you said it.
I chuckled.
Me: LOL At least there was a lot of man candy.
El: Man candy-canes?
Me: LOL ;-) Si, plenty of those.
El: Why’d you come home early?
Someone got off at the next stop, and I took the open seat.
Me: I wasn’t enjoying myself.
El: Sorry.
Why did he always apologize?
Me: Not your fault.
El: I’m still sorry you weren’t enjoying yourself.
He really seemed to care.
Me: What did you do tonight?
El: My mom called me.
Me: Is that normal?
El: Yes :-) We talk a couple times a week. Her and my dad live in Sausalito.
It made sense that Ellison had a close-knit family. He and Naomi reminded me of my sister and me.
Me: That’s sweet.
El: Do your parents live in the city?
Me: They live in Spain.
El: That must be hard, not being able to see them often.
Me: They don’t want me or my kind coming to visit anyway.
El: What?
I’d never told anyone about this. But for some reason I wanted Ellison to know.
Me: They’re strict Catholic. They kicked me out when I was sixteen. I lived with my brother until I turned eighteen. Then I moved here.
El: God, Alejandro. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Do you talk to your brother?
Me: No. When I came out as a teen, it caused a huge falling out between my parents and six brothers and sisters. One brother and sister supported me, but I felt so bad about breaking up the family, I thought it best to leave them to their lives.
El: Alejandro . . .
I could hear Ellison say it, and I wished I could hear it.
Then my phone rang.
I swiped my screen. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” Ellison interrupted. “It seemed too impersonal for text. And so you know, I hate talking on the phone.”
“But you talk to me.”
I could almost hear the blush in his voice. “Yeah.”
“I’m honored then.” I smiled.
He chuckled nervously. “You don’t have any family you keep in contact with then?”
“No. And I didn’t mean to dump that on you. It’s no big deal.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t mind. But I get it if you’d rather not talk about it.”
“Thanks, I don’t really.” I sighed. “Tell me what you and your mom talked about.”
He snorted. “She’s trying to . . . You probably don’t want to hear about it.”
“I do, mi amigo.” I wanted to hear what real mother and son relationships sounded like.
“She’s trying to set me up with one of her friend’s sons, who I happen to know from high school.”
“Is he hot?” I asked.
There was a pause.
“Yeah.”
“Hotter than me?”
Ellison choked, then ended up snorting again. I was glad I could lighten the mood.
“You don’t have to answer that. I was just trying to gauge his hotness.”
“He was super hot in high school, but now he’s all grown up and . . .”
“And?”
“He asked about me.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
He huffed. “I don’t do well asking for dates. Or talking to hot men in general.”
“You’re talking just fine to me.”
“Al, you’re my boss. I don’t have much of a choice.”
I chuckled. At least he didn’t deny that I was hot. “And as your boss, I say go for it. You already know I think you’re cute and sweet—a total catch. Call that hotcake and go out with him.”
“Okay,” he said, finally.
“You get some sleep.” I stepped off the trolley and walked toward my apartment. “And thanks for the chat. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, El.”
“Goodnight, Alejandro.”
I hung up and stared at my phone, suddenly wondering why the hell I was convincing him to go out with other men.
Chapter Nine
Ellison
Today Alejandro’s and my team brainstormed ways to enhance and implement the ideas the VPs and directors had discussed. It was a crucial step in the project, and I needed to be alert and fresh.
Unfortunately, all I could do was yawn.
Alejandro and I had talked well into the night. He opened up to me. Told me about his family and his fears. I knew he was my boss, but I’d always wanted to be his friend too. And for the first time, I felt like we were closer to that point.
I couldn’t deny the jumble of feelings running through me. Alejandro tried to convince me to go out with Devin by saying I was a catch. No one had ever called me that before. It made me giddy knowing he thought that way about me.
But if I was such a catch, why didn’t Alejandro want me?
Because he’s your boss, stupid.
And he’s probably just being nice.
I was too wired to sleep after we’d hung up, so I read until midnight.
It was hard to concentrate during the meeting. I was sure I was smiling more than usual. Were my employees staring? I tried to bring myself back to the task at hand and add to our discussion, but my mind didn’t want to let him go just yet. Thankfully, I had a dynamite team that I trusted to step up when I couldn’t.
After we’d finished, I left the third floor, only to run into Alejandro as he was leaving the restroom.
He smiled. “Mi amigo, how did the collaboration meeting go?”
I started to answer when he interrupted. “Before you answer, I have a few mock-ups I wanted to show you. You have a minute?”
“Sure.” I actually had a ton of work to do, but I didn’t want to turn him away.
He gestured to his office, and I followed him.
“They’re on the coffee table.” He circled over and sat down, pointing to some sketch paper lying there.
I sat down and picked up the drawings. “These are awesome. When did you do them?”
“Last night.”
“Really?” The sketches were of new branding styles, fonts, copy. I wasn’t lying. They were good. “You’ve blended function and style beautifully.”
“Thanks, El.” He grinned, and I swore his cheeks looked rosier. “After we talked last night I couldn’t sleep. I started to doodle and just let my mind wander.”
“I had a hard time getting to sleep as well.” I flipped through the drawings, taking down notes on my iPad.
Alejandro perched on the edge of his chair. “I ended up working out after I finished the drawings. What did you do?”
I jacked off. “Um . . . I read a book. Put me right to sleep.”
“Remind me not to read that book.” Alejandro winked.
I chuckled. Our eyes locked for a long moment.
I cleared my throat. “Have you shown these to anyone yet?”
“You’re the first. I wanted you to see the others’ ideas this morning before mine.”
“Well, your sleepless night was definitely worth it. The others had some great ideas, but these will integrate well
and take us over the top.”
Alejandro grinned. “Don’t go kissing my ass now.”
I nearly choked. “I-I’m not.”
“I’m kidding, El.” He leaned over and clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m glad you like my designs.”
I nodded, willing the image of me kissing Al’s a— Nope, not even going to think it.
He put a foot up on the coffee table. “My feet are killing me again after the workout. The Ferragamo’s really did me in. I may have to take them back.”
“That’s a shame.” I licked my lips, knowing what I was about to offer. “How about another massage? You deserve it.” I glanced at the sketches. “These are worth it.” Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Mi amigo, that would be amazing. I’ve dreamt about your hands the moment my feet started to ache.”
That might’ve been the sexiest thing I’d ever heard in my life.
I could handle this. Right?
Alejandro removed his shoes. Then just as quickly he began peeling off his socks.
“What are you doing?” I asked, then kicked myself for drawing attention to it.
“Oh, is this okay?” He looked at his socks in his hands, and I desperately tried not to stare at his now-bare feet as he put them both up on the table. “They aren’t sweaty.”
No, they weren’t sweaty. They were perfectly mouth-watering. High, slim arches. Long, slender toes. His skin was flawless, his toenails buffed and polished. And no tan lines. Either he never wore socks in the sun or this was their natural color.
“It’s fine,” I managed to get out. But it was more than fine. His feet were sexy and bare and going to be in my lap and in my hands.
Christ.
It was difficult enough touching Alejandro’s feet with sheer stockings on . . . I didn’t know how I would contain myself without any material as a buffer. I had sprung wood when he mentioned dreaming about my hands on his feet, but my cock was mega-hard now.