Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach down and close my hand over his rock-hard cock, then squeeze him through his pants.
“Be a good boy and open your mouth.”
His jaw immediately drops, and having Oskar Voyjik in the palm of my hand—literally and figuratively—turns me on so bad my dick throbs. We make eye contact for a fraction of a second, something heavy passing between us before I tear my gaze away. I ignore whatever that was.
This is all about sex.
The team.
Our jobs.
I dive on his mouth, sealing both our fates with the filthiest kiss I can manage.
FOURTEEN
OSKAR
I am so … confused.
Not confused enough to pull back and ask what the fuck he’s thinking though.
Lane doesn’t kiss the way I’ve been imagining it. For some reason, I thought he’d be passive.
He has these hard edges to him, both physically and with the way he speaks to me, but whenever I’ve fantasized about this—about his mouth on mine—I’ve pictured something soft. Gentle.
There’s nothing gentle in the way his mouth claims mine, the hardness in his set jaw as he controls the pace and the force behind it. His tongue is demanding and rough, and so are his hands as they grip my hips.
His fingers dig into my skin, and even though the part of me that wants to hit pause on this so I can work out why Lane is suddenly doing all the things I’ve been dreaming of since meeting him, the confident way in which he’s taking charge of this has me becoming pliant in his arms instead.
I moan into his mouth and then whimper when he pulls away.
“I need you to say it,” he growls.
“I’m sorry.” That’s what he wanted me to say, isn’t it?
Lane backs me up, pushing me against the wall, and when his hand closes over my throat, I’m torn between being scared or coming in my pants. I think I am scared, which only makes my dick harder, so I guess it’s a bit of both.
“Say you and Aleks aren’t happening,” he clarifies.
“Not in this moment, we aren’t.” I want him to grip my throat tighter, but instead, his fingers loosen, and I whine. “Aleks and I will never happen.”
I should come clean and explain what really happened back in the locker room, but he doesn’t give me a chance.
Lane’s hand is back at my throat, his mouth is on mine, and his tongue pushes past my lips.
I melt under his touch, and all thoughts of telling him the truth about Aleks and me fade away. My dick is harder than granite, but when I try to push my hips forward, his free hand pins me to the wall, and he breaks his mouth from mine.
“I know you’re terrible at taking direction, but if you really are as desperate for sex as you say you are, you will do everything I say.”
“Whatever you say.”
His lips quirk. “So that’s the trick to getting Oskar Voyjik to do what I want him to.”
“Have I made that some kind of secret? The promise of an orgasm is the only way to get me to do something. You could have already learned that ten times over if you’d listen to me when I talk.”
“No talking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s words, Oskar.”
I mime locking my lips, even though I want to ask what he’s going to do with me.
He glances over my shoulder, out the window that’s over my kitchen sink, and then pulls me off the wall and leans me against the counter instead.
Then his whiskey-colored eyes meet mine, and his lips quirk. “Your neighbor is on her balcony, watering her plants.”
I turn to look when Lane’s firm grip takes hold of my chin.
“Don’t look. I want you on your knees, and you’re going to suck me off while your neighbor watches.”
“Why does this feel like a trap? Or a test? Am I supposed to say no here? To prove I’m not the fuckboy you think I am?”
“I know you’re that fuckboy, and if I’m going to have to sleep with you to save our jobs, I’m willing to do it, but this is on my terms, and you’re going to do what I say.”
This still feels like a test, but Lane should know I’m not going to turn this down. “But—”
“No more words,” he says, his voice doing that growling thing again. “Knees.”
Damn, it’s hot. This whole thing is one of my biggest fantasies. Blowing someone I shouldn’t where someone else could see us.
I immediately get to my knees on the kitchen floor. The counters are high enough to shield me from Mrs. Huxley, but the challenge for Lane to keep a straight face so she doesn’t know what we’re doing in here drives a need inside me. The thought of having him slip, just a little—the look of pure need and pleasure on his face brings out my competitive side, and I can’t wait to get started.