I’d wanted to take care of that need earlier today, and despite the risk of the moment, I want to take care of it now.
I inch my fingers upward, grazing over the hard bulge. He startles, hips moving back, before settling again. I feel him, the heat pulsing through the fabric, wondering exactly how far I can push this. I feel like I know Holden. We’ve worked, and played, alongside one another. We’ve slept with one another on the couch. He’s comforted me, defended me. Is he the kind of guy that can handle an on-the-sly hand-job with his boss two feet away?
I’m considering
this as he and his boss talk, when his hand slips under the shelf once again. This time he fumbles around until he finds my face. He strokes my cheek and grazes my bottom lip with his thumb.
If that isn’t a green light I don’t know what is.
Again, I kiss his fingers, then find his zipper, slowly tugging the pull over the swell of his erection. His hips sway, and I reach inside, surprised to find he’s bare underneath. One less obstacle to go through.
I focus on the task at hand, ignoring Brent and Holden talking, along with the crackle of the walkie-talkie as they figure out how to help the park visitor. His cock is hot and hard. When I release him from the confines of his pants it bobs toward me eagerly. It’s the second cock I’ve touched in twenty-four hours. This one as impressive as the last. Holden’s tip is bigger, his skin darker. As much as I want to take my time, I’m already pushing limits. I run my hand down the shaft, feeling how big he is, and flick out my tongue, licking the tip.
Holden’s body has gone full rigor, frozen in his spot. He speaks to Brent in slow, controlled words. I move at a similar speed, tasting the salty precum, and slowly stroking his length.
“Did you hear the call about the bear?” Brent asks just as I reach behind his cock and fondle the soft, silky flesh of his balls.
“Y-y-es,” Holden stutters, fingers gripping the ledge.
“Huge motherfucker,” Brent says. “Jameson sent me a picture. Three cubs following it. Luckily the driver saw them on the road and let them pass.”
I’m not brave enough to suck his dick while his boss is right there, but I can’t stop myself from touching him, licking him, kissing the velvety soft skin.
“I found it!” Brent says, slamming down on the ledge with enthusiasm. “I’ll let them know. Thanks, Holden, do you need anything before I head in for the night?”
“No, sir. I’m, uh, good.” I hear him swallow. “Really good.”
“Excellent. Try not to fall asleep.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem, sir. Goodnight.”
He slides the window shut, but he doesn’t step away, Brent obviously still in sight. He waits a heartbeat, one where I’m not sure how he really feels about this moment. Pissed? Excited? Humiliated. He reaches over and he tugs a string, making a shade fall over the window in a rush. He shoves a sign against the glass that says, “Ring bell for assistance.”
He looks down at me, eyes narrowed, cock hard, bobbing, and wet between his legs.
“I’m sorry if I took that too far, it just seemed like a good idea at the time, but obviously it was stupid, like really stupid.”
He pulls me from under the ledge, yanking me flush against his body.
“You’re a very naughty girl.”
I blink. “Something just came over me.”
He bends and kisses me hard, like he’s been dying to do it. His beard is scratchy and his tongue soft. He releases me and says, “I’m not mad. That was the fucking hottest thing that has ever happened to me, but if you don’t finish what we started, or let me bend you over the fucking counter, I may actually combust.”
His eyes are glazed with lust, and what I did to him wasn’t nice, but damn, if it wasn’t fun. I flick my eyes down to his buckle, then the button on his shorts, unfastening both. He stands, and they fall to the ground, pooling at his ankles. Without the slightest hesitation, I reach for him again, holding the hot, hard length in my hands. He groans, long, loud, and from deep inside.
I bend, and take him in my mouth, giving him the happy ending he deserves.
22
Adrian
“I need to talk to you about something,” Sierra says. It’s 2 a.m. and we’re sweaty and naked in my bed. She’d come to my room again, three days after the first time, half dressed and wet between her legs.
It was getting harder and harder to stay quiet, in or outside the bedroom.
“Sure,” I say, skimming my fingers down her side. Her skin is sensitive and pebbles easily. She’s staring at the ceiling.