At once, I flick my eyes to his, then cower under the weight of his magnificent, steely gaze.
Yeah, he seriously just snapped his fingers at me—like I’m his new obedient dog, trained and housebroken.
“Professional,” Ben states for a reminder in that firm yet silky voice of his.
And all the while, I’m leaking pre-cum like no one’s business in my fast tightening underwear. It is official. I feel it. My cock throbs, wet, and my breath quickens, and my eyes are trained.
“Boss,” he states, lifting one of his big fingers and pointing to his massive chest. Then he moves his finger to my chest, poking me with enough force to pin me to the wall if I wasn’t pinned here already. “Intern.”
He really knows how to put a boy in his place. “Understood.”
After lingering for far too long on my chest, he finally drops his hand. I wait for him to turn away and leave me to finish up in the restroom, or perhaps to give me a big long spiel on the grave importance of keeping it appropriate in the workplace, or how he still thinks I knew who he was Friday night and just wanted to fuck my way to the top.
Instead, he grabs me by the tie and yanks me into his face, then plants his firm, wet lips on mine.
12
Benjamin takes a bathroom break.
I work Trevor’s mouth powerfully and without relent.
My hands grope him everywhere without a single reservation. I slide my hands behind his back, holding him against me like my possession. I consume his lips as if I’m never going to have this chance to taste Trevor again.
And he doesn’t hold back either. I feel his grip strengthen as he claws down my back. He cups my ass greedily, then moans when our hips press firmly together, our mutually hardened cocks throbbing at each other, a contest.
Our lips separate long enough for him to say, “We shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t be doing any of this. This is wrong.”
“Really wrong,” I agree.
And then our mouths crash together again.
He tastes sweet and sugary, and I can’t get enough as I move a hand up to the back of his head to pull him against me stronger, as if there’s any way I can possibly kiss him harder. My mouth aches in the space of seconds as I express more fervently by the second my desire for him.
Anyone could walk into this restroom. Anyone could pull open that door right now, and there would be no way for either of us to separate or catch our breaths fast enough. We’d be caught, gossiped about, and exposed to the whole office.
I clean up scandals for a living. I’d have one of my own.
I know exactly what could happen, since I’ve seen it happen to countless other celebrities over the past several years. Do I really want to risk it? And for what? The delicious taste of this boy I barely know in my arms? This boy who might or might not have known exactly who I was at the nightclub?
Not just any intern …
Regardless of the reason I’m trying to appeal to in my mind, I just can’t stop.
I’m unstoppable.
Suddenly we’re off the wall, stumbling across the room and spilling into one of the stalls, its door slamming shut and locking behind us. I don’t know whether it was my feet that led us into here or his, but our mouths never disconnect.
I slam him against the back of the door, pressing my weight into him as we kiss. I don’t give him a second to catch his breath.
I grip his hand and thrust it to the front of my pants, showing him how hard I am for him. His eyes flash wide open, and then the message is received. He fumbles for my pant button. When it pops open, he wastes no time in pulling down the zipper too. I sigh with relief when my hardened bulge, encased in the thin blue microfiber of my boxer-briefs, spills out.
He cups it greedily, then pulls away from my mouth and glances down, as if surprised. Trevor seems to make a discovery.
“Told you it’s big,” I grunt at him.
He looks up at me with wide eyes. I can’t tell if it’s thrill or fear I see in them.
Suddenly, the dreaded sound we were likely both hoping we’d not hear echoes around us: the restroom door opening. We stand perfectly still while staring into each other’s stony faces.
Now I see fear in his eyes.
There’s the sound of a zipper unzipping. Then a soft sigh. And then: pee.
I bite the inside of my lip. Trevor wrinkles his face, annoyed.
We wait. And we listen. And we still don’t move.
The guy keeps peeing.
Like, literally, this guy pees forever.
Trevor lifts an eyebrow at me, as if wondering whether I have some kind of plan, or if he’s expecting me to do something. What the hell does he want me to do? Am I supposed to march out there and demand that the man stop peeing so that I can continue doing very inappropriate things with one of my interns?