Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Ferrara gave him a look that made it clear how little he thought of Nate’s intelligence if Nate really expected that he was going to explain himself to a lowly PA.
“Fine,” Nate grumbled, kneeling in front of him and unzipping his boss’s pants with practiced ease. “I still don’t understand how you can be horny already. I did this yesterday evening.”
“Then you can blame only yourself for your subpar effort.”
Glaring at him, Nate pulled out Ferrara’s already-hard cock and squeezed it tightly, the way Ferrara liked it. It creeped him out how familiar the weight and the feel of that cock was by now. Big. Warm. Pulsing. Obscenely thick. A cock. In his hand.
Licking his lips, Nate tore his gaze away from the thing and started stroking it.
Ferrara was quiet, as usual, his heavy-lidded eyes on Nate’s hand working his cock. The bastard didn’t close his eyes anymore, but he’d recently taken to watching Nate’s hand on his cock, which was slightly unnerving.
Nate looked away before their gazes could accidentally meet. He always felt weird when that happened. Somehow, it was weirder than giving the man a handjob.
Stroke, stroke, stroke.
His wrist started aching soon enough. Almost ten minutes had passed but Ferrara still hadn’t come.
Nate huffed in frustration. “He’ll be here any minute now. The door isn’t even locked.” Not that anyone would dare enter Satan’s office without a knock, but still.
“Then make me come.”
Nate scowled. “You think I’m not trying?”
“Try harder,” Ferrara said, meeting his gaze, his black eyes glinting.
Nate swallowed, his stomach in knots. “My wrist is tired,” he complained.
A strange expression appeared in those eyes. “Then use something else.”
It took Nate a few seconds to register the meaning of his words.
He flushed. “I’m not sucking your cock,” he hissed. “I’m straight!”
Ferrara shrugged and leaned back in his chair, his posture confident and so very male. “So am I,” he said. “So what?”
The nerve of him.
Nate could only open and close his mouth wordlessly, absolutely speechless.
There was a knock on the door. “Mr. Robertson from Microsoft is here, sir,” Brenda’s muffled voice sounded through the door.
Nate jerked his hand away from Ferrara’s cock, but the asshole grabbed it and kept it where it was. “Give me a minute,” Ferrara called out before shifting his gaze back to Nate and lowering his voice. “Well? Are you going to make a Microsoft representative wait?”
Glowering at him, Nate spluttered in indignation.
A glimmer of amusement appeared in Ferrara’s eyes. “You can say no, obviously. I’m not forcing you. You can quit.”
“Fuck you. I’m quitting after I win the bet in a month, and not a second sooner.” Before he could think twice, Nate leaned in and fit his mouth over his boss’s erection.
It tasted… nowhere near as bad as Nate had thought it would. Just of salty skin. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he had fingers in his mouth, and not another man’s cock.
Except he didn’t have fingers in his mouth. He had another man’s cock in his mouth. A cock. In his mouth. His boss’s cock.
His face burning, Nate squeezed his eyes shut and moved his head, trying to take as much of the thing into his mouth as he could. He failed. There was just so much of it. How the hell did women do it?
Mentally apologizing to every woman who’d ever blown him for not showing enough appreciation for her hard work, Nate tried his damnedest to mimic what his girlfriends had done to him.
“You’re terrible at this,” Ferrara commented when Nate pulled up for some much-needed air.
Glaring up at him, Nate bit out, “I’m straight. Of course I’m terrible at this. Yours is the first cock I’m trying to suck.”
A drop of pre-come appeared on the cockhead. Nate wrinkled his nose but tentatively gave it a small, kittenish lick.
Ferrara groaned and came all over his face. Just like that.
“You—” Nate spluttered, springing to his feet. Opening the desk drawer, he pulled wet wipes out of it and rubbed at his face frantically. “Jesus, this is gross.”
His gaze heavy-lidded from his orgasm, Ferrara tucked his cock into his pants and zipped up. And of course he now looked picture-perfect and not at all like he’d just come all over his assistant’s face.
Scowling at him fiercely, Nate finished cleaning his face and turned to the door.
“There’s still a drop on your nose,” came Ferrara’s voice from behind him.
Nate flushed and wiped his nose. “I hate you so much,” he said with feeling.
“Noted,” the bastard said, and was that amusement in his voice? “Now go tell Robertson he may come in.”
Nate did just that.
“Are you okay, Nate?” Brenda said sympathetically as Robertson disappeared into the office.
Nate flinched, looking at her warily. “What? What do you mean?”
She cocked her head to the side. “You look flushed. Was he hard on you?”