Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
He opens those wet lips of his. “I’ve only just begun, boy.”
Then his pace picks up. I gasp, clinging to the back of the countertop as he races me right back to the edge. Already, I’m seconds from my point of no return.
“Look at me.”
I bring my gaze back to his, locked on, unblinking, gasping for breath as he pumps me relentlessly.
I’m so looking at him.
“Ask me for permission,” he demands.
There’s something about a hot man like Benjamin Gage with my dick in his grip that makes a somewhat meek and clueless guy like me totally submissive and desperate to obey him. It’s beyond the boss-intern thing, really. I want to serve him. I want to feel beneath him somehow. I want to feel used, teased, and taken full advantage of.
I have been my own insufferable boss every moment of my life since my days of rigorous studying and zero straying from the perfect, faultless path. Now I’m desperate—and long overdue—to let go of that control and submit, for once, to someone else’s whim instead of always my own.
I want to be Benjamin Gage’s toy—his only toy.
“Please let me come,” I beg.
“Again.” His gaze is dark and wicked. He wants to torment me. He wants me to be all his. He enjoys being totally in control.
“Please,” I beg again. “Please let me come. I’m so close.”
“Not yet,” he states, drawing his lips closer to me. “Not. Yet.” His whispered words crash over my face in two hot breaths. “Hold out for me, Trevor.”
Then he takes my mouth with his. Unable to protest anymore with words, I simply moan against him, my legs tightening as I struggle to keep from coming. I bring a hand up to the back of his head and cling to him as we kiss. Our lips gain strength, our breath growing more out of control.
“Please,” I whimper against his lips as we kiss. “Please …”
“Say my name,” he breathes against me.
“Ben.” The name comes out in a jagged whisper and at once, without hesitation. “Ben.” It gives me such power, such pleasure, such pride to say his name. “Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben—”
“Trevor.”
I feel everything inside me squeeze with my release, and then I come so hard, I feel spots of warm wetness hit my chin and chest while our lips lock, feverish and animal.
Good Lord, it’s endless. All of the absurd tension I’d felt between us releases with this powerful, explosive orgasm. I melt against his muscular chest, kissing him as I come, ignoring the wet mess I’ve shamelessly made between our bodies.
And he keeps kissing me, but gentler now. His lips tease and caress mine, softer and softer, until he finally pulls away and looks into my eyes searchingly.
I can’t fight the smile that spills across my face, drunk with chemicals chasing their way through my body. “W-Wow …”
He grins. “Wow? Is that all you got for me?”
I peer over his shoulder. With a lift of my eyebrows, I realize we’re no longer alone. Lance, his dog, sits at the foot of the spiral staircase. He stares back at me with half-lidded eyes, unimpressed.
I put my lips to Ben’s ear. “Your dog’s watching us.”
19
Benjamin enjoys working overtime.
Trevor leans awkwardly against the back of the couch, his arms folded. And he’s caught in a staring contest.
With my dog.
Lance sits at the foot of the spiral stairs. It’s as close as he had dared to come, apparently, so I moved his dish in front of him so he could eat. He’s taken exactly one lick of his gourmet dish, and now seems more committed to staring suspiciously at Trevor than eating another bite. That, or my trusty chef has lost his touch.
“He’s not even barking,” whispers Trevor, still staring.
I chuckle. “He doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t bark? Like, at all?”
“Nope. He’s a quiet, humble knight.” I smile, drinking in the sight of Trevor suddenly. “You look good in my shirt.”
That brings his gaze back to me. His cheeks warm and his eyes turn light with laughter. In truth, he’s not wearing my shirt, but rather his own—the one he left at my place the night we first met.
“Your shirt?” he returns. “Interesting. Your shirt looks an awful lot like a shirt I wore to some rich prick’s apartment on a night not too long ago.”
“A rich prick, you say?” I take a few steps toward Trevor. “Is this some guy whose ass I need to kick?”
“Probably.”
“How’d your shirt end up at his place?”
“He took it off of me, the greedy man he was,” he answers.
“Hmm.” I come to his side, leaning against the back of the couch with him. “He probably kept it and did dirty things to it.”
Trevor frowns at me. “You didn’t even wash it.”
“And get rid of your sexy scent?” I bring my nose to his pit in one quick movement, nuzzling my face inside, then inhale deeply. “Yeah,” I growl, pulling away with a drunken grin. “Still got it.”