Brazen Bossman: A Hero Club Novel, стр. 21
He pulls away and I whine behind my hand. “Quiet. There are people, your coworkers, right on the other side of that wall. Do you want them to know you’re letting the boss tongue fuck you on his desk?”
I shake my head.
“I didn’t think so.”
He disappears between my thighs again and begins to lap at me with skilled precision.
Swirl, suck, flick, nibble, swirl, suck, flick, nibble, lick, bite, devour.
Over and over and over and over.
And the sounds, oh my fuck, the sounds.
Wet, sloppy, and raw. I can feel the wetness from myself, and his mouth, coating me from one thigh to the other.
My body begins to shake against my will. I’m no longer in control. My toes are curling inside of my heels and I am beginning to buck against his mouth, chasing his tongue, fucking his face.
When I feel the slip of his thumb pressing against my small, puckered entrance underneath, it’s game over.
I fall flat on my back against the cool wood and completely leave my body as an orgasm rocks me from my head to my toes.
I’m jelly. There are no bones left in my body. I’m a pile of useless flesh flopped in the middle of his desk.
“I don’t think I can move,” I giggle.
I can feel him pull my panties back into place and fix my skirt, pulling me back together from the waist down.
He isn’t saying much; so I look down to find him staring at me.
“What?”
“You’re more delicious than I imagined.”
“Well then.” I brush some invisible dirt off my shoulder.
“I have a meeting in ten minutes. Feel free to use my restroom to freshen up before you go back to work.”
The shift in the room is so immediate that I think I have whiplash. I push myself up, not taking his hand when he offers it to help me from his desk.
I turn to say something, to ask how we move forward from here, but the shrill ringing of his phone cuts me off.
“I have to take this. Close the door on your way out.”
There it is. The asshole mask firmly back in place.
“As you wish, Mr. Lennox.” I put the emphasis on his last name.
He sits in his chair and pulls the phone from its cradle. “Lennox.” His tone: calm, unaffected, and professional.
When I come out of his bathroom five minutes later, he only gives me a passing glance before I walk out the door.
Nathanial
I couldn’t get her out of my office fast enough, because had she stuck around a moment longer, I was going to fuck her. There was no question about it. The instant her body arched off my desk and I felt her seizing against my touch, I had to actively keep myself from mounting her right there like a fucking animal.
No sooner did she shut the door behind her, and I quickly end my call; viciously jerking off in the bathroom to the mere thought of having her again.
Christ, when did I become this person? Needy and sex driven, like a teenaged boy who can’t keep his hormones in check.
When I woke this morning, this wasn’t the intention. Hell, when I sent the email asking her to come see me, I hadn’t even thought about doing this.
Actually, that’s a partial lie. I have thought of this every single day, but this was supposed to be about discussing what happened the other day and deciding how to move forward from there, because ultimately… I want her.
Taking advantage of her, though I am willing to wager she would be a very willing participant, isn’t my M.O. here.
I’m a bastard, not a monster.
After a few moments of privacy and a cleanup, I splash a bit of water on my face to regain a sense of composure, and reset my body back to office mode.
When I come back to my desk, my phone light is blinking, indicating a call is coming through.
I lift the phone from the cradle and answer, “Yes?”
“I have your mother on the phone for you, Mr. Lennox.” Piper’s voice swirls through the phone.
“Send her through, and Piper… remember what I said. It’s Nathanial.”
I can hear the intake of her breath before she responds, “Yes, sir.”
“Send her through.”
The phone line clicks as the call is pushed through, and I can hear my mother messing with something on the other end of the line.
“Oh, fucksticks,” she gasps and mutters under her breath.
“Mom?” I question.
“Oh, Nathanial. I’m sorry. I spilled a bit of coffee on the counter. That’s what I get for trying to do this with one hand.”
“You could always use the Bluetooth earbuds I got you. That would free up both hands.”
“Oh, I don’t know how to use those things, and to be fair, that just wasn’t on my mind right now.”
My mother has slowly started sounding less and less like herself every day since my father began treatment. Her once bright and bubbly tone is now sad and melancholy.
“Is everything all right?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.” I can hear her sniffle through the phone.
“What happened? You’re crying.”
“It’s nothing, Nathanial, really. Some days, it’s just so hard. One morning, I can wake up and be next to my husband who’s been by my side for forty years, and the next morning, he’s a stranger who doesn’t even know where he is.” With that, she chokes out a sob.
“How bad is he this morning? Did he have an episode?”
He’s been having those periodically over the past six months. Sometimes they show themselves in confusion, other times in anger and violence. The latter is what scares me most.
“I was waking him up for breakfast. He looked so confused. He kept trying to get ready for work, and I had to intervene. He yelled and got very angry.”
“Did something else happen?” She knows exactly what I’m implying.
“No, no, no. Nothing like that. It just took