I’m one of those women who loves giving blow jobs for several reasons:
1. It allows me to stay impersonal
2. It gives me control
3. I have an oral fixation and love putting lots of different things in my mouth
4. I’m amazing at them
Honestly, this is a gift. Steele owes me right now, as far as I’m concerned, because not only did he promise me his cock, I did dust, like, seven of his shelves. Seven out of seventy might be a low percentage of work completion, but I would have done more if his brother hadn’t shown up. Probably.
In other words, I have no guilt as I slide my hand up the inside of Steele’s thigh toward the bulge straining against his fly.
“Is there a reason you’re barging into my study?” To his credit, he doesn’t sound like a man who is about to be assaulted under his desk.
“It seems like the only way to get a hold of you these days since you aren’t at the office and you aren’t answering my calls.”
I cup Steele’s cock through his trousers, giving it a little squeeze. As though I’ve just knocked on the door, he widens his legs, letting me in. “Well, you’re here. What now?”
He’s talking to Holt, but I think he’s also talking to me. Daring me. Does he think I won’t?
I start to work on carefully undoing his belt, proving that I most definitely will.
“I have a meeting down the street in an hour. Thought I’d stop by to take another stab at convincing you to—”
Steele cuts him off. “Could we talk about it later? I’m in the middle of—”
I’m intrigued to hear what he’s going to say he’s in the middle of, but Holt interrupts. “You can sure tell Lola hasn’t been here. These shelves have an inch of dust. You haven’t brought in a replacement while she’s gone?”
“I have, actually. Guess she’s not that good.”
Belt and button undone, I pause before moving on to his zipper so that I can flick my finger against the spot where I think his crown is.
He jolts.
“You okay?” Holt asks.
Steele reaches under the desk and flicks the side of my forehead. “Just an itch. What’s going on with Hunter?”
I’m not interested in whoever this Hunter character is, and I tune out the conversation and concentrate on quietly unzipping his fly. Once down, I reach my hand down the pouch of his boxer briefs and work his cock free.
Work is probably the wrong word because it doesn’t take much at all to get the beast free.
And beast is definitely the right word because, as I’d suspected, Steele Sebastian is hung and standing proud.
You should stand proud, my boy. You deserve to boast.
I fondle the beast to get my bearings, running both my hands down his length then cup his balls before trailing my fingers back up his shaft. Then I swipe a palm over his head, and practically moan. He’s soft and velvety and thick and strong—everything I love in a cock.
On cue, a bead of pre-cum sprouts at the tip, and I bend forward to lap it up, making my tongue flat as it sweeps across his crown.
Meanwhile, I’m half aware of Holt’s voice in the background, seemingly moving across the room, so I notice the abrupt tone change. “What the fuck, Steele? You, uh, playing hanky panky with Mindy now?”
A strange jealousy that I have no right to possess bubbles inside me, and I hate how curious I am to hear more. Hate wanting to know what inspired the comment in the first place. Hate it so much that I take my aggression out on Steele, drawing my teeth lightly across his tip.
“They’re not Mindy’s shoes,” he says through gritted teeth. My pumps! I’d forgotten about them. “Had someone over earlier.”
Clever because it’s not a lie.
I apologize for my assumption with another sweep of my tongue.
“And she left without her shoes?” Steele must make some sort of contrary expression in response. “Oh, she’s still here?”
This time I peer up to see Steele give an elusive shrug.
“Mm. No wonder you wanted to work from home.” They share a laugh, and I’m not sure if Holt presumes that Steele has a girl waiting in his bedroom or if he suspects that I’m actually under the desk.
Whichever it is, he seems to not care to know more and goes back to discussing “Hunter” and “the board” and “Dad” and a shit load of other boring things that sound work and family related.
And that means I’m done listening in.
With Lil Wayne playing in my head, I get to licking Steele’s lollipop, lapping my tongue up the side of his shaft, using lots of saliva, then sucking his crown lightly before repeating the process. I do it again and again, enjoying the tensing of his thighs as I tease him, knowing that what I’m doing feels good but isn’t quite what he wants.
The more I play, the more he stirs, shifting in his seat. He drops his hands to his thighs. He clears his throat. Coughs once. Spreads his legs wider. Little by little, I notice the conversation becomes more one-sided. The gap between Holt’s words and Steele’s responses grows. He sinks down in his chair, pushing his cock in my face, a not so subtle hint to get it on, and if that’s really what he wants…
I wait until he’s mid-sentence— “Hunter doesn’t really want your job. He wants—” And that’s when I take him down my throat.
All the way.
And I mean all the way, so that every last inch of him is in my mouth.
I feel his thighs shiver as they frame my face, and his breathing stutters.
“He wants…what?” Holt prods.
“I, uh.” He clears his throat again. “I lost my train of thought. Sorry.”
I smirk as I pull my lips back across his length, only to deep-throat him once again. Again and again, speeding up each bob of my head. When I glance up at him, his eyes are hooded. He takes a long blink then swallows.
The guy is not going to last long. I can’t decide if it’s more torturous to leave him this aroused or to let him try and hide an epic orgasm.
I’m still deciding—still torturing—when Holt uses Steele’s lost thought to turn the conversation. “Anyway. About the Kincaid story—I’m stalled out on my end. Can you—?”
“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Steele says, seeming to know what Holt is going to say. Seeming to not want me to hear him say it.
But he’s talking about my boss, and now I’m hyper focused on the conversation. I pull back, about to let his cock fall out of my mouth, when Steele’s hands clasp around my ears. Holding me in place, he thrusts in, surprising me with the force and tempo.
Okay, number one—hot.
Number two? If he thinks I can’t listen and/or concentrate while I’m being face-fucked, he’s wrong.
“Does that mean you haven’t made a move on his secretary yet? I think if you just get close to her—”
Three things happen all at once:
1. Steele freezes with his cock shoved down my throat.
2. I start to choke.
3. Holt’s phone rings.
“I’ve got to take this,” Holt says. “Yes? I’m…sure. Okay.” The next comment sounds like it’s directed to his brother. “I have to deal with this. I’ll call you later. Answer this time.” Then, “I’m actually on my way to meet with them right now.”
His voice fades, and I’m pretty sure he’s left the room.
Meanwhile, I’m still choking.
I ball my fists and beat on Steele’s thighs. A few seconds of this, and he finally lets go of my head. “Okay. He’s gone.”
I shove him so his chair moves back and climb out from under the desk. “What the goddamned fuck was that?”
He smiles like this is all still fun and games. “You were choking.”
So now he admits I was choking. “I was not choking.”
Before I can go on, he jumps in. “You were most definitely choking. I know choking when I see it. Couldn’t handle what I have to offer?”
“I wasn’t choking, you asshole. I was being choked.” There’s a difference, and if he doesn’t know what it is, I’m not in the mood to explain it right now. “What was your brother talking about?”
At least he has the good sense to look guilty. “I know. You’re not a secretary. Holt isn’t always considerate about labels, but I know they matter.”
The fucker really knows how to woo me.
Or rather, try to woo me because it’s not going to work. I will not be distracted from his deceit with his charm.
“I am not an idiot, Steele.” I stomp over to the chair to retrieve my pumps. “I heard what he said. I get the implication. I know this thing with me was all about getting to Donovan.”
“It’s not like it sounds. I never—”
“I’m not an idiot,” I say again, pointing a narrow heel in his direction.
“I never took you for an idiot, Simone.” He stands, tucking away his magnificent (and still erect) cock, seeming to understand (correctly) that I’m not finishing him off now. “And yes, my brother asked me to get close to you, but I never agreed to do it.”
“Yeah, it sure looks like you never agreed to do it.” I stomp to the door, peering down the hall to make sure Holt really is gone and Mindy isn’t in sight before rushing to the bathroom.
Steele is right on my heels, but I manage to slam the door in his face. “None of this is about Holt,” he says through the wood barrier.
“Of course not. You just randomly show up at women’s offices and demand to spank them.” I practically rip the French maid’s outfit off of my body then panic momentarily because I didn’t look to see if my dress was still there waiting for me.
Fortunately, it is.
“It wasn’t random. It was a natural follow up to what we’d started the day before.”
“Yeah, sure. Sure.”
“If it wasn’t, then why did you show up at my office the day after that? We have a connection, and you know it.”
Well, I thought we’d had a connection.
Oh, fuck. Was Donovan the reason why he sat by me at the dinner in the first place? Was this all a ruse from the start?
He really must think I’m stupid.
And maybe I am because all of this should have seemed fucked up to me before now. There were plenty of red flags. I mean, I have no issues with confidence, but he’s a billionaire. I’m a secretary. (Not really a secretary, but as far as his type is concerned, I am.) We don’t run in the same circles. We don’t exist in the same world.
Dressed, I swing open the door and almost laugh when he stumbles back. “Serves you right.”
I start down the hall toward the door.
“Think about it, Simone.” He’s right behind me as I go. “Have I asked you anything about Kincaid in our time together? How does a spanking get you to spill information about your boss? Why would I need you to hide today if I was doing what Holt asked me to do?”
I slow my pace. I’m not ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he asks some good questions, and except when I think I’m being asked out on a day date by a dirty, hot rich man, I try not to make assumptions without more knowledge.
“That kiss, Simone,” he says, knowing he has my attention. “There is no way you can deny that kiss was real.”
I turn to him, arms crossed over my chest protectively. “I don’t know anything about you, Steele.”
“That’s not true. You know how good it feels to have my hands on you, you know how my cock feels down your throat, and you know you want to keep exploring whatever this is between us.” Before I can deny it, he adds, “Don’t lie to me. Be honest.”
“Honest.” I huff. “I can’t trust you. Why would I be honest?”
“Because I’m being honest. I don’t want this to end before it has a chance to get good. And, Simone? I think it could be real good.”
And this is why I hate people—because it takes so much work to build trust, and yet if you want any sort of relationship, you have to trust even to begin. It’s a lot of energy. Too many times I’ve put too much of myself out there too early and been hurt.
Have I done that again with Steele?
So far it’s just been body parts and saliva. My heart is still safe behind its cage.
He hasn’t moved, but it feels like he’s closing in on me. I take a step backward. “I don’t even know what this is, Steele. This isn’t how people do something real. You know, they go on a date. He shares his boring biography. She laughs at his lame jokes. He pays way too much for a mediocre dinner. She pretends she’s not going to let him fuck her, but she shaved everything earlier, so of course she is.”
He wrinkles up his nose. “Sounds kind of boring.”
Yeah, it usually kind of is.
But it’s a formula I know. A formula I have faith in. Whatever this is with Steele, it’s too new. Too undefined. Too much of a risk.
The elevator opens as soon as I push the button. I step in and turn to him. “I don’t know what your intentions were with me, Mr. Sebastian, but I think this game has run its course.”
“Simone—”
I hit the door closed button, and the rest of his sentence is lost as I drop down.