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He said nothing, but he smiled against my skin when his fingers found my zipper pull. I shuddered, my eyes rolling back as his fingertips drifted over my cock through my jeans. When skin met skin and he stroked me slowly, I exhaled, my lips and tongue forming a whispered string of profanity.
“If I could,” he said, “I’d fuck you right here, right now.”
I bit my lip, trying to stay on my feet in spite of the way my knees shook. “Then maybe we should-” I gasped as his hand squeezed gently, then released. Wetting my lips, I tried again. “Maybe we should go someplace where you can fuck me.”
“We will,” he said, pausing to kiss the side of my neck. “Soon.” Another kiss, lower this time. “But not yet.”
“Nathan…”
“I can’t fuck you here,” he growled against my collarbone. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make you come.”
A shiver rippled all the way down my spine, but Nathan was faster. Just before that shiver reached the base of my spine, he was on his knees and his mouth was around my cock.
Exhaling, I let my head fall back against the window and closed my eyes. One hand rested in his hair, passively following his slow, steady motions, my fingers twitching each time his tongue ran the length of my cock.
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck…” The words came from somewhere else, some deep reserve of quiet awareness that could still form words and phrases. The rest of my consciousness was too caught up in trying to comprehend the electric pulses Nathan’s touch ignited.
With my free hand, I fumbled blindly for something-anything-that I could hold on to and keep myself anchored. Upright. Here. I found something solid, something metal, and held on for dear life as my back arched against the window. A sharp edge bit into my finger, bringing me back into reality for a fleeting second. When I looked up, I realized I’d gripped the projector.
At least you’re good for something. But that thought was gone as quickly as it had come, because I looked down just in time to see Nathan run his tongue around the head of my cock just before taking it into his mouth again.
“Oh, God, Nathan,” I moaned. As if they had a mind of their own, my hips mirrored his strokes, moving in time with his hands and mouth. The projector creaked in protest as I held on tighter, as my entire body responded to every flick of his tongue and squeeze of his fingers.
A deep groan vibrated against my cock and resonated through every nerve ending all the way up my spine, the sound so low I couldn’t actually hear it, but I felt it. I felt it loud and clear, and all it took was that subtle confirmation that he was just as turned on as I was to make my knees buckle, my breath catch and my vision turn completely white.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh. My. God…” I managed one last gasp before my spine lifted off the window and I came, and even then he didn’t stop, still stroking, still sucking, still drawing it out until I was sure the room was actually spi
Half a heartbeat before it all became too much, he stopped.
“Oh, my God,” I half-moaned, half-whispered. “That-” His kiss stopped me, and as soon as I tasted myself on his tongue, I forgot whatever it was I was about to say. I released the projector and the windowsill and held on to him instead, gripping his shoulders as much for closeness as for balance.
“We should get out of here.” His voice shook as much as my knees did. Our eyes met, and it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where he wanted to go and what he had in mind.
I still had a few things I needed to take care of here before I left, but didn’t care. I had paperwork to square away, two more auditoriums to look over, e-mails to read, but Nathan was looking at me like that, so I just didn’t fucking care.
As I straightened my clothes, I glanced around the room. Around this room I’d been in thousands of times before.
In the space of minutes, the place had changed. In some way I couldn’t quite put my finger on, it seemed different.
Nothing had visibly changed, nothing had moved, but the air was different. The atmosphere was different.
“Ready to go?” Nathan asked, and the sound of his voice made the co
The room was different because he’d been here.
It didn’t matter how many times I’d fooled around in this room in the past. This wasn’t the first time, but it was the only time that mattered. Nathan erased my history here, just as he had everywhere else. He stopped just short of writing Nathan was here across every surface upon which we’d fucked. Not that he needed to. I didn’t need any kind of graffiti to remind me.
“Zach?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Let’s go.” On the way out, he rested his hand on the small of my back.
I’ve been here now, he said every time we touched. Nothing else matters.
Chapter Seventeen
I tapped my heel on my desk blotter in time with the song that was currently stuck in my head. The folder full of the past week’s time cards was spread across my lap and I gnawed on the end of a pen as I went over every last card, searching for any extended breaks or hours of rogue overtime. A few of my employees had recently discovered the art of adding two minutes or so to both ends of every break. It didn’t seem like much, but it added up fast.
I made a note about the sixth or seventh eighteen-minute break on Dean’s time card. Heather and Max had adopted the same trend. “I’m onto you, you little bastards,” I muttered into the silence. Looked like I was going to be writing a few people up soon, or at least having some one-on-one, one-way conversations.
The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see Dylan, but it was Max. Speak of the time-thieving devil. For now, though, I hid my a
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Uh, hey, Zach,” he said, not looking me in the eye. He glanced over his shoulder. “Some guy’s here to see you.”
“If he’s wearing brown shorts and driving a brown truck, tell him that anyone can sign for the packages,” I said with a good-natured smirk.
He laughed tentatively. “It’s not the UPS driver,” he said. “Some guy.” He shrugged. “Says he…knows you.” There was a world of discomfort in the last two words. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Some of my employees still didn’t quite know what to make of having a gay boss, and several of them assumed that any man who “knew” me did so in the Biblical sense. Given some of the men I allegedly “knew”, I often wondered what they thought of my taste in men.
“Send him in,” I said, making no move to sit up or stop shuffling time cards around. It was probably some vendor or another, or someone who wanted to be a vendor.
Max nodded and left, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, a sharp knock a
Closing the folder and dropping my feet to the floor, I sat up and said, “Come in.” I put on a professional expression, rising in anticipation of an equally professional handshake, but when the door opened, I froze.
“Zach,” Jake said with a broad smile. “How are you?”
“I’m, um…” I sat back down, leaning casually on one armrest so that he didn’t know I’d taken a seat to keep my knees from collapsing. “I’m fine. Fine. You?”
He shrugged, still smiling as he nudged the door closed with his heel. “Pretty good. I was just, you know, I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“I see,” I said through clenched teeth. And you thought I’d want to see your sorry ass around my theatre? I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him to get the fuck out of my office. Though the door was closed, the walls were thin. Even though this was someone I “knew”, I had employees around. And customers weren’t too far out of earshot. Damn you, professionalism.