by Hunter Frost
“Thanks,” he said, watching me wipe the spunk off him, and then sat up. I turned to pick up my clothes, but he caught my hand.
I stopped, confused. He moved off the desk, stood, and pulled me into a kiss. His hands slid into my hair and he pressed himself against me, his tongue ravaging my mouth. I couldn’t help but respond to the rawness of it. What he had allowed me to do to him, to take from him was remarkable. Trent Davis, the buttoned-up and guarded boss, giving me his passion, his trust. That realization had him creeping into my deepest, most protected parts.
He broke from the kiss and his rich brown eyes penetrated me. As I stared back at him, I felt something move between us. He seemed vulnerable and bare, as if he was waiting for something. His hand rested on my shoulder, his gaze darting between it and my face. His thumb brushed the skin on my collarbone. Did he need my approval? My praise?
I ran my hand up his flank and over his ass. “You okay? It wasn’t too much, was it?”
Trent bit his lip and finally shook his head.
“Good,” I replied.
He flinched and I gave him a pointed look.
“It’s fine. Just . . . tender at the moment.” I wondered if we were still talking about his ass, or something else.
I drew my hand up and rested it on his wrist. “That was . . .” I had a hard time finding the right words. Hot. Extraordinary. Soul changing.
He must have sensed my struggle. “My thoughts exactly.” He smiled, almost shy.
I chuckled and squeezed his arm. “You wore me out.” I bent to pick up my clothes.
When I looked back up, he had arched a brow. “Try being on the receiving end sometime.”
I grinned. “Maybe one day.”
He blinked and I was glad I could surprise him.
“Why don’t you stay for a while. Lie down with me on the couch? It’s shockingly comfortable.”
I must’ve looked like I needed convincing.
“I have blankets, snacks, and drinks,” he added.
“Well, since you have snacks,” I said with a wink.
I didn’t know why I agreed. This whole situation was wrong on so many levels. I’d already made a gigantic mess of it and I should be running out the door. Trent was the boss. The big boss. And he thought I was the janitor. This could blow up in my face at any moment. But hell he was hot, kinky, and . . . kind. He constantly amazed me. And made me want more.
“What would you like?” he asked, walking naked over to the small kitchenette. He opened the fridge and cupboard so I could see inside.
“Actually, all I really want is a bottle of water.” I stood next to the couches in the seating area. They did look comfortable. I was suddenly beat, the evening finally catching up with me.
Trent grabbed two bottles of water. “Me too.” He closed up and turned off the lights. He handed me the bottle and then set his own down, pulling a throw from atop one of the couches. He shook it out and let it float onto the longest couch.
I gulped my water, tilting my head back. I was parched.
“I have a bathroom in here, if you need it.” Then he huffed. “Of course you know that. I’m sure you’ve been in here hundreds of times.”
I smiled. “Yep.” Not really. But I’d fake it. “Sorry about the towels,” I offered, remembering why he was in the executive bathroom earlier. “I’m usually on top of that sort of thing.”
Trent shrugged and waved me off. “It happens.”
“I like this relaxed, easy-going Mr. Davis.” Was that what a good spanking could do? Or was it the fucking? I smiled.
He smirked as I took another swig from my water and lowered myself down onto the couch. Trent wasn’t kidding, this thing was delightful as my head hit the pillow.
“Don’t get too used to it.”
“What?” I said, my eyelids drooping.
“This carefree version of me. It’s rare.” He sat down on the sofa—gingerly, I noticed—and drank some water.
“Then I consider myself special.” I ran my hand over his thigh.
He took another drink, capped the bottle, and turned to smile at me. “You’re unusual.”
“Thank you?”
“In the best way possible,” he added and lay down, pushing his sweet ass back against me. He played the little spoon, which was funny considering he was taller than me. He tossed another throw over us, though I was already warm with Trent’s body heat.
I wrapped an arm around him as he settled a pillow under his head. He yawned. I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long judging by how my eyelids resisted. I could hear the thumping of the party music below, but it acted like soothing white noise.
I hoped Steph thought I left. I wouldn’t want her to worry. For once I wished she got drunk and went home with someone. I didn’t dare check my phone, somewhere in my pants pocket on the floor. As long as I got out of here early, I’d be fine. I didn’t want to admit that lying here with Trent tucked up next to me felt right. I wondered how he’d feel if he knew the truth.
“I’m beat,” Trent said and yawned again.
“That’s an understatement.” I pulled him tighter against me.
He chuckled, and we lay there in comfortable silence. His breathing began to even out.
“I should’ve finished reviewing those reports,” he said, his voice weak.
“I’m sure they’re fine. You have until the afternoon before they’re due to the printers anyway.” As soon as those words were out of my mouth, I cursed.
Why the hell did I say that? The janitor wouldn’t know anything about when those reports go out. I’m screwed. Now he’d know something was up.
But he didn’t respond, move, or anything.
And then I heard the snoring.
Thank fuck.
Chapter Six
Trent
I opened my eyes to darkness. Warmth. I struggled to figure out where I was until I caught the subtle outline of a familiar chrome statue from the coffee table in my office.
Was that breathing?
Behind me. Against me.
The memories of last night flashed before my eyes. Now I was really warm. Nearly sweating. And if I wasn’t mistaken, terribly erect. I felt Chaz’s arm around me, his hand resting on mine. That talented, unforgiving hand.
Goddamn . . . Chaz. He seemed to read my mind at every turn. He inherently knew what I wanted and made me work for it. I loved everything—the talking, the teasing, the punishment, and the fucking. It was a dream. Chaz, the janitor, was my dream.
I didn’t want him to go after we’d finished. Had I seemed clingy or desperate when I’d asked him to stay? I hadn’t thought he’d sleep over. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought we’d fall asleep so quickly. He really did wear me out.
Still, I was glad he stayed. Not that I knew what to do with him, but I knew I wanted to get to know Chaz. Why was he a janitor? What did he want to do with his life? His kind eyes told me there was more to him than he let on. Everything he did made me believe that.
I sighed, maybe too loudly, for Chaz stirred behind me.
“You awake?” he whispered, his breath tickling my neck.
I thought about pretending to be asleep, just so I could enjoy this moment as long as possible. But I was sure my breathing and movements gave me away.
“Barely,” I finally replied.
“How do you feel?”
“Wonderful.” And it was the absolute truth.
He chuckled and inhaled at the base of my hairline. “You smell incredible.”
I shivered, and he moved his arm down to find my rigid dick. I moaned as he teased the tip with his palm, then let his deft fingers stroke me. My body instinctively arched, bottom pressing back into Chaz’s groin.
“Shit.” He gasped. Hard and thick against my cleft, he bit down softly on the back of my neck, then laved the skin with his tongue.
“Chaz,” I sighed, pumping into his hand.
He lifted up quickly, halting everything, and I turned to look over my shoulder,
ready to pout. “What are you—”
“Condom,” he cut me off. I would never doubt his unwavering dedication to being prepared.
“I need you. Again,” he growled, then added, “Is that okay?”
I swallowed. My chest ached when he said things like that. Sexy and considerate. “More than okay,” I breathed.
Once he found the condom, he ripped it open and made quick work of sliding it on. He threw the wrapper on the table and lay back down behind me. His hand guided his lubed dick to my opening. Ever so slowly he pressed inside of me, as I huffed, until he reached the hilt. He wrapped an arm around me.
“This time we do it slow and deep.” He nipped at my ear. “I want to stroke your insides until I find every spot that makes you shudder, torturing them with my cock until you’re begging me to come.”
“Yes . . .”
His voice. His deep, husky voice that said things to me I’d always wanted to hear. He had me with slow and deep, but the rest of it made my stomach clench with desire. My whole body was on edge, the anticipation turning me into a coil of nerves.
He began to move in and out, just as he promised. Slow. Achingly slow. He’d pull away until he nearly popped out, then push back in until his entire length filled me.
My breathing became ragged. Random. Uncontrolled.
Chaz changed his angle and slid forward. When he pressed deep, my body quaked and I cried out, knowing he’d found my prostate.
“Jackpot,” he said, kissing my neck.
I whimpered as he hit it again. Slowly. I fought the urge to shove back into him, to force him to ram me. But this was his game. His rules. I groaned, knowing I’d have to take this agony until he decided I could come. And damn, if that didn’t turn me on more.
He continued to twist and thrust. Unhurried and measured, tapping my prostate just enough each time to drive me crazy.
“Chaz . . . I need it. Please. More.” I begged without shame.
He kissed my shoulder, his pace still steady. “It’s sweet misery, isn’t it? Rubbing over that hot spot each time?”
“I can’t take it,” I said between groans of pleasure.
“You can. And you will. But I’m not a complete hard-ass. You’re insanely sexy when you beg.” He ran his hand down my arm and found my cock.
“Thank fuck,” I breathed, as he wrapped his fingers around it and gently tugged.
“I take care of what’s mine,” Chaz said.
Mine. My heart sang. I wanted to be his more than anything. “I’m yours?”
“Did I stutter?” he breathed in my ear, and I felt the smile on his lips.
I smiled too and then squirmed as his fingers found the precome and used it to stroke me with the same sure hand. Stroked inside and out. Tortured with pleasure. My orgasm remained there in the shadows, lurking, waiting for Chaz to move faster, harder . . . something.
But he didn’t. The inability to do anything about it drove me mad. Frustration and excitement battled within me. He worked me good. Thrusting with such aching tenderness and intensity it made me thrum from the inside out. He had all of the control. It was my ultimate fantasy.
I grabbed onto Chaz’s arm as my climax neared. “I’m so close,” I said in between breaths.
“I’m with you, Mr. Davis,” he replied, licking the shell of my ear.
I whimpered.
“Let it go,” he encouraged. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That was the magic phrase. The last caress of my swollen length and a simple thrust of his hips had me coming hard, yelling my release.
Chaz was right behind me, grunting in my ear. He whispered things I didn’t think he’d say or that I thought I’d want to hear, but they reached places that had rarely been touched.
He held me tight despite the mess on his hand and on my stomach. I didn’t want to move.
“We’ll clean up in the morning,” he said, reading my thoughts, his voice already sleepy and spent.
I didn’t argue. Honestly, it warmed me to the core to think he’d still be here in the morning. He eventually slid out of me, and I felt him reach down and grab the condom. He leaned up to toss it on the coffee table. When he turned to lie back down, he gave me an unexpectedly sweet kiss. A kiss that made me think of things I shouldn’t have. Like tomorrows. Futures. Things you never dare breach with a hook-up. Or the janitor, in my case.
Chaz pulled back and studied my face, though we were in the dark.
“Stop thinking. You’ll hurt yourself,” he said before going back to his spot behind me. He pulled the blanket up to cover us.
Within moments, he was asleep—his breathing deep and soothing.
He was right. Nothing good could come from that kind of thinking.
I woke to light breaking through the clouds outside. San Francisco in the morning. Fog. Mist. A mild sun and surely a chill wind. I heard shuffling nearby and turned just in time to catch Chaz’s magnificent bare bottom before he slipped on his boxer briefs.
“Morning.” I felt a dopey smile on my face.
He twisted to look at me, and for a moment, I thought he might bolt out the door.
Then his expression changed, his mouth turning up into a smile. A slim strip of sun streamed across his crystal blue eyes, picking up the light.
“Morning, sexy,” he replied and found his pants, tugging them on. I hated them despite his ability to fill them out expertly.
“You have to work this morning?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Wow, they have you working nights and mornings? That’s rough.”
He shrugged. “I’m not complaining, boss.” He winked, and I may have blushed.
I sat up, watching him put on his uniform shirt. He sure was fine. Hair mussed, stubble heavy, and that lean body with tattooed sleeves—sin overload.
“What time is it?” I suddenly worried my assistant could walk in at any moment and pulled the blanket tight around me.
“It’s just before seven.”
My grip on the blanket relaxed. I had two hours before she was due.
“How should we do this?” I asked, afraid of letting the view in front of me go. I wanted to see it again. And again. A fleeting thought, I knew. For what could this ever really be but a one night stand?
“Do what?” he asked, buttoning up his shirt.
Oh no. “Nothing,” I backpedaled, running a hand behind my neck.
“Mr. Davis,” he said, that deep, warning voice washing over me like cool water. He walked close and tilted my face up, stroking my lips with his thumb. I could smell the flowery hand soap from my bathroom on his fingertips. “Talk to me.”
I stared into his eyes, unable to turn away. I took a breath. “I’d like to see you again,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
He hesitated for a moment, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him unsure of something. He let his hand fall.
“You don’t, do you?” I dropped my gaze to the floor, suddenly feeling like an idiot.
“Of course I would.” He sat down on the coffee table in front of me. “This is just . . . new to me. I don’t usually stick around after—”
“Me neither.” My heart skipped as he gazed at me. Why did this have to feel so right?
He reached behind to grab his phone from his pocket. “What’s your number?”
I smiled and he typed it into his phone as I rattled it off to him.
“How about I call you tonight?” he asked, and my heart did another flip.
“I’d love that,” I said. “I mean, if you have a spare moment. I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything pressing.” I was rambling. What had he done to me?
Chaz put his phone back and rested his palms on my thighs. He leaned in to kiss me, teasing my lips until I pulled him to me and sunk my tongue into his mouth. He tasted like candy. Even with morning breath. Maybe it was because I knew that taste was the heady mix of everything we’d done last night.
It seemed like we poured everything into that ki
ss. Chaz slowed and made it tender and sweet, letting his tongue stroke over mine like a caress. I knew I was hard again under the blanket, but before I could get too worked up, he pulled back.
The look in his eyes confused me. But in moments it was gone. He smiled as he got up.
“Have a good day, Mr. Davis.” He turned to go.
I probably should have walked him to the door, but I would’ve looked ridiculous with my erection tent and throw toga. “You too, Chaz,” I replied and watched him leave.
I gazed at the door for a while after he left. This must have been a dream. I fell asleep on my desk, working on those reports, and dreamed it all. The used condoms and wrappers, in addition to the bottles of water, were gone, but there was no denying my back end was still sore, inside and out. I guess it had to be real.
Getting up, I had a funny feeling in my bones. And my chest thrummed. I was smiling, and no one was around. Despite the clouds outside, I was warm and looking forward to the day. I hadn’t finished reviewing those reports. And yet, that didn’t seem like such a big deal. I’d get to it. Eventually. My first meeting wasn’t until ten. I had time to prepare.
First, a shower. Then, coffee. And hopefully, I wouldn’t spill it this time. But then, I’d know exactly who I’d call to clean it up.
Chapter Seven
Charlie
Showered and dressed in my regular work suit and tie, I jumped on the trolley. All traces of Chaz the janitor were gone except for the memories of last night blazing in my head.
When I’d woken up that morning, I’d cleaned up Trent’s office, from the condoms on the table, to the dried spunk on the desk and floor. Not that I didn’t want to remember it. It was branded on my brain. But I needed to convince Trent I was, indeed, the janitor and trustworthy enough to keep what we did under wraps. I wanted to show him I was responsible, since obviously I wouldn’t be able to impress him with my marketing skills anytime soon.
I stepped off the trolley to meet Steph for our standing Tuesday morning breakfast. I needed the coffee and Steph wanted answers. She’d texted me throughout the night, as I found out when I finally checked my phone. If I didn’t show up today, she threatened to call the cops. I didn’t blame her. I should’ve at least let her know I wasn’t going home last night, but like I had any clue until it happened.