by Lea Bronsen
Features decomposed, she muttered a meek, “I’m sorry,” and turned on her heel.
He followed her scantily clad ass to the exit and slammed the door shut with a bang so loud it shook on its hinges. She wouldn’t dare come back before Monday morning at eight am sharp.
* * * *
I laugh. “That was quite a show you pulled there.”
Roman spins like a whirlwind of anger and glares at me.
Fuck, he’s something. Looking devilishly handsome in his white shirt and slacks, with the dark hair, night-black eyes, and matching beard and mustache strengthening the aura of hot, sexual danger. What a turn-on. Forget about that silly bimbo. Who needs big boobs and a waxed cunt when you have such a virile specimen of manhood in the same room? I don’t know what stops me from tearing off his clothes.
Ha. He was so infuriated, he was willing to breach his own barriers of social conduct and dig deep into some dark side of him to bring out raw masculinity and strength. I love it. Not only because his power display proves he’s more than man enough to handle me, but because he did it for me. He was jealous. I laugh again, the situation too incredible.
Normally, I despise authoritative behavior, but in Roman’s case, I don’t believe he behaves like this very often, and his secretary deserved to be put in her place. She’s too damn cheap. Good thing he interfered so I didn’t end up with my dick in her.
He walks over, nostrils flaring and eyes like black diamonds, and stops inches from me. His warm breaths pulsate against my lips, ensnaring my cock to press against the fly, and I have to fight not to rearrange it in my pants. He doesn’t touch me, just stares. I don’t move. Heat oozes from him like an invitation and makes me lightheaded. He wants me, it’s more than evident. If he doesn’t make up his mind soon, I’m going to kiss him or something, provoke him to act. But I have to wait. It’s his call.
After a lengthy stare-down, he draws a deep breath and asks, voice strangled, “What are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wanting to tease him, I pretend to make a side move and leave.
He puts a hand on my chest. “Stay.”
Boom, I win. “What if I don’t want to?” Face placid, I make another move.
He pushes me back against the desk. “Stay!”
How rousing. I like that he plays the dominant when we’re equally tough. I put my hands on the desk behind me, lean my ass to it, and snicker. “Are you holding me here against my will?”
“I wouldn’t insult your obvious superiority in strength by insinuating you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to.”
I chuckle. He makes the same comparisons as me. “Obvious superiority,” I tease, “says the representative of a managerial company to a kitchen employee.”
“Since you’re not listening, I’ll repeat that you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to. Ergo, you want to. You want me.”
“Your head is so big you don’t see your arrogance.”
“You gave me a blow job.”
“And then you rejected me. Again.”
His eyes droop. “Listen. It’s not that easy. I’m in the middle of a divorce. I can’t just…”
“What? Accept my advances? ’Cause of my past? I’m not good enough for you?” I don’t need to fake the searing anger. It’s right under the surface. Always will be.
“Luke, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Yes, it clearly does, and you’ve blown your chances, stupid.” I pretend to push from the desk, but he pins me to it.
“Is that why you came in here with my secretary drooling all over you? To make a point?”
Instead of replying the simple truth—that she followed me—I want to press him and see how genuine his feelings are. “It’s ’cause you don’t make the cut.”
My words seem to hit home. He pales and drops his arms to his sides. Black pupils glimmering, he whispers, “So, that’s what it’s about. I had a feeling. Earlier, you called me Slick Boy. You called my car a fancy snob thing. You said, “You slick suits,” or something. Is that how you see me?”
I gaze into his eyes and see a bared soul. He’s showing me the real him, telling me my insinuations are wrong. But I’m not done pushing his buttons. “Isn’t it true?”
“You really think I’m a rich, self-satisfied guy who enjoys power and expensive things?”
“Isn’t it true? Aren’t you an executive?”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Don’t you own a big house on a nice, quiet side of town?”
“Yes. But it’s much too big. Jen wanted it. I’d do with less.”
“Now you’re gonna tell me she wanted the BMW, too.”
“In fact, she did.”
“And that watch.” I nod to his arm. “And that titanium smartphone. And those hand-tailored clothes and shiny Italian shoes.”
“Goes with the job.”
I chuckle. He’s sincere, and his willingness to convince and satisfy me touches a chord within, but I enjoy this game far too much. For once, the tables are turned. A man of power is begging a subordinate. “Well, that dirt don’t work for me, Roman. I don’t want any of it in my life.”
* * * *
Roman’s blood boiled. Luke was being a complete asshole, questioning his moral position and affirming all he cared about was money and power. He didn’t know shit.
“For God’s sake. Before you came here, I was on the phone with my lawyer. I asked him to make Jen an offer. I’m willing to concede both our house and our car to her if she gives me the legal right to keep the kids fifty percent of the time.”
Luke raised a brow. “You’re willing to trade all that for a partial custody?”
“It’s not a matter of money. I love Nick and Lily more than anything. What else do I have to do to prove I don’t care about these goddamn materialistic things? Can’t you just look past them and see who I am?”
“You mean, can I look past your slick big-boss attitude, high-society status, and—”
Roman threw his hands in the air. “If you hate me so much, why did you blow me?”
“It was a mistake. I’m not doing well up here.” Calmly, Luke tapped a finger to his temple.
“Bull.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m used to calling bluff.”
“I know. You gotta be slick to recognize slick.”
Fuck, Luke was pushing too hard. Roman wanted to punch him in the face, wake him. But he needed to swallow his anger and find an intelligent way of showing he was an honest, hardworking, and moral person. How? He was already giving away his house and car. What else could he strip of, that Luke despised so intensely?
The son of a bitch stared, unfazed.
Okay. Hands shaking, Roman took off his Rolex watch and put it on the desk beside Luke. Then he unbuttoned his shirt so fast he nearly tore off the buttons before he shoved it into Luke’s hands.
Luke caught the shirt and lowered his gaze to Roman’s chest. “What are you doing?”
Teeth gritting, Roman unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pushed them down his legs. The pants folded into a pile at his feet, leaving him half-nude for the city to see. The blinds were up because he liked to let the low afternoon sun in. He refrained from checking out the two perpendicular floor-to-ceiling windows that made the corner of his office. The sun probably reflected on the glass panes, so whatever he did wasn’t visible from the outside. Still, it was possible someone in a building on the other side of the streets saw him, identified him, and contacted the chairman of his board. He didn’t care. The cost of losing his job was lesser than the cost of losing Luke.
“I’m just a guy,” he said through a growl, glaring at Luke. “It’s just me, Roman. A simple guy.” He bent to take a shoe off and threw it in a pile of documents on his desk so papers flew to all sides. “I love like everybody else.” He did the same thing with the other shoe, sending it crashing into more papers. “I make love like everyb
ody else.” Moves quick and hard, he removed his socks and pulled the other clothes off his legs—his briefs, too—before straightening stark naked in front of Luke. “What more do you want?”
With a small grin, Luke brought Roman’s shirt to his nose and sniffed. “Do you have lube?”
Chapter Seven
I couldn’t be more satisfied. I’m leaning against Roman’s desk with his intoxicating scent in my nose and a raging hard-on tenting my pants. I’ve led Mr. Powerful to where I want to have him: naked in his office and very eager to please me. He stands before me seething, pumped-up, fists clenched at his sides, hairy chest and stomach heaving.
How such a smart guy could let me play him like that boggles my mind. Either he’s suffering from temporary loss of intelligence or he really, really likes me. Maybe it’s his small head doing the thinking. It would seem so, for as I glance down his perfect, sexy body, his dick lengthens and thickens.
I’m dying to reach for him, spin him toward the desk behind me, flatten him on top of it with his legs spread, and do his sweet ass while the whole world outside the tall windows watches. Now on his rich man turf, I can show him I ignore our difference in social position and take command. Where he dominates me in the material world, I’ve got the upper hand when it comes to our human relation.
That was the idea, but the situation is inversed. He offers himself willingly as my lover. I no longer need to prove I’m his equal. I’ve won. I’m the king of the mightiest building in town.
Now what? We both know what’s going to happen, but apparently, neither knows how or wants to make the first move. Maybe he thinks it’s my turn, because he’s done everything in his might to show me his submission. But I want more. I’ve always been the one to make sexual advances, now it’s up to him.
Why is he stalling, simply staring, desire evident in his smoldering gaze and his cock growing for me?
Oh, I forget. It’s his first time with a man.
Not wanting to wait another minute, I put his shirt on the desk and push forward. His eyes widen as I meet him full front, chests colliding, punching a little air out of his lungs. I’m a beast like that. Hungry and determined, no one standing in my way.
We might have all evening, but I don’t have any patience. Not after lusting for this hunk for a week. Lips clamping on his, I run my hands along his warm waist to the small of his back and down to his firm, round ass, pulling him to me so our erections touch, only separated by my jeans. He shudders. I focus on his mouth, and, with the tip of my tongue, lick the seam of his lips, then demand entrance. I want to explore him, claim him as mine. When he gasps, I dive in and seek his tongue, swirl mine around it, lick the wet inside of his mouth, his hard teeth one by one, and again, his swollen lips. I love feasting on him like the most delicious dish, my mouth watering with each ensnaring taste.
To my delight, he opens to me and kisses me back in a rough manner, too, clashing our teeth and rolling his tongue around mine. Not only has his anger worn off, he’s showing me he’s one hell of a kisser and more than worth me. My dick goes rock hard and pushes into him, right next to his long and thin one standing commando. Too fucking tempting. I move my hands from his ass to his groin, one hand fisting him and the other grabbing his sac. Moving back a little to allow space, I stroke his perfect cock from the base of the shaft nesting in a bush of pubic hair to the thick, velvety head, and I finger the wet slit on the tip. All the while massaging his balls. He groans, his tongue a dagger in my mouth.
I don’t know what I want most, to have him thrust inside me, or to be the one banging him until I explode. I enjoy being both a top and a bottom, and I have a feeling he’ll also be okay with both. We’re equals, one as strong as the other.
The more we kiss and fondle, the more the air between us heats, and the afternoon sun slamming into the office bathes us in light, makes me boil in my clothes. Sweat beads all over. I release Roman’s lips and ass and take a small step back. “Why don’t you…uh, help me here. It’s too hot.”
A thin layer of perspiration coats his handsome features. Cheeks flushed, look hazy, he reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and pulls it up over my stomach and chest. The fabric sticks to my clammy skin. I lift my arms to help him, damp heat drifting from my armpits. From the lust in his eyes, I half-expect him to lean forward and lick me, tease my nipples, gently nibble my flesh, but he hesitates. Of course, he’s never been intimate with a man. How can I think he’ll behave like a gay? I smile to tell him it’s okay.
Regaining confidence, he finishes pulling my t-shirt over my head and arms, ruffling my hair, and sends it flying somewhere behind me. Again, like in the gym, his gaze roams over my naked torso, studying the tats and the scars. He runs a finger along some of them, his touch warm and ticklish on my skin. “One day,” he whispers, “you’ll tell me their history.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t mind, I have more pressing matters now.”
A grin grows on his mouth. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sate you.”
“Somebody down here has been waiting all week.”
He reaches for my belt, unbuckles it, and pauses.
What is it, he’s afraid of my cock? I chuckle. It’s thick, all right, making the front of my pants protrude, but it’s not a monster. I move my hands over his and force his fingers to pop the button through the hole and unzip my pants. I push my boxers down, under my balls. My cock uncurls into his hands like a large snake.
“Take it,” I tell him, tone urgent. His warm hand closes around the base of my shaft and strokes upward. I hold my breath and savor the amazing feeling. There’s nothing like it, except pushing past a ring of muscles and diving into a tight, hot depth. I groan, “You know where I want to put it.”
He releases my dick and looks down, as if ashamed of something. “You know, I’ve never…”
“I know. I promise I won’t hurt you. I’m not a brute.”
“I never thought you were.”
I swipe a finger across his lips, and though my hard-on demands immediate relief, I take my time to be kind. “You’re a very handsome guy.”
His eyes flutter up again and search mine.
I smile. “I like everything about you. Your sexy beard.” Cupping his face with my hands, I lean forward and nibble at the neatly trimmed hair from his jaw to his ear, the short stubble grazing my lips like miniature darts. “Your high cheek bones. Your dark brows. Your Italian eyes.” I place a kiss over each of his eyes, on the soft flesh beneath his brows. “Your roman nose, so fitting.” I run my lips along the strong, straight bone of his nose, then do a small leap down to his lips, nibbling at the lowest one. “And these. My fucking God, so full and tantalizing. I wish I had time to devour them, but…”
A smile curves the corners of his mouth, his gaze warm and trusting.
Impatient, I retreat, let my pants and boxers drop to my feet, and step out of them. I put my hands on his shoulders, and gently, but firmly, push him down to his knees. I’m careful to go down with him, too, so we’re always at the same level and he doesn’t feel I’m dominating him. It’s important he’s with me all the way, that he doesn’t think I’m forcing him to accept anything.
When we’re both kneeling on the carpet with our erect cocks poking between us, I lean forward and kiss him again, our lips melting together. His tongue meets mine and curls around it, making me want him even more. Sweat rolls down my chest muscles. I’m so hot for him, I want to pin him to the floor and enter his sweet hole right away. Fluid leaks from the tip of my cock. But I have to wait a little more. There’s one thing I need to set straight.
It takes all of my will strength to pull back once more and simply look at him, my chest heaving and body trembling, aching for a sexual release. “I have a confession to make.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“All week I’ve been dreaming of screwing you on your desk and wiping that rich-fuckhead arrogance off your face.”
His brows shoot upward.
“But now�
�”
“Now what?” he hisses, as if what I’m about to say has immense importance.
“Things have changed completely. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but you’ve turned everything upside down, and all I can think about is making love to you.”
“Oh.” His face breaks into a cute smile.
“It’s true.” I tilt my head. “I’ve got the hots for you, you fool.” I have no idea what the future holds for us, but at least I’ve told him how I feel, and it’s up to him to decide what to make of it.
Just not now. I reach for his shoulders and push him further down, onto his side, while I lay next to him on the soft carpet and enlace him with my arms and legs.
He lets me maneuver him, features calm. If he didn’t want to be in this situation, he wouldn’t. He’s not the kind to let anyone boss him around.
I stroke his back, the firm mounds of his ass, the soft crevice between his butt cheeks. “I wanted to do it here, in your office, with the whole city at our feet, so everyone could see you being fucked over by a simple street punk.”
He frowns. “You’re far from a punk.”
“My past defines me. I can’t run from it.”
He shakes his head, but I refuse to argue. I’ve had blue balls for days, and the moment has come to savor him. I move my longest finger to the puckered crack in his ass and play with it, circling the hole and applying light pressure. “I take it you don’t have lube.”
He gives a shy chuckle.
“Okay. Maybe she does.” Swiftly, I get up on my knees again, move over to Cindy’s desk, and open its drawers. Among all kinds of office items and chick stuff, there’s a tube of hand lotion. That’ll do. I gather my jeans on the floor, find a rubber pack in a pocket, and get back to Roman. “Turn onto your back.”
He stares at the lotion and the condom in my hands, the white in his eyes visible.
“Hey, I’m not gonna force ya. If you don’t wanna do this, I’ll just jerk off in your mouth.” I grin and teasingly stick out my tongue.