Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Nate nearly laughed.
He was hard in me, he thought, and for a moment imagined the look on her face if he actually said that.
She would think it was a joke, of course.
Nate would think it was a joke too if someone told him five months ago that he would be willingly sucking Ferrara’s cock because his boss needed a “clear head” for a meeting with a Microsoft representative.
God, could his life get any more surreal?
Chapter 8
Nate would like to say his life had changed monumentally after putting a cock in his mouth, but… it didn’t. He didn’t feel any different. It had been weird at first, but he wasn’t really freaking out or traumatized or anything like that. But then again, why would he be? It wasn’t sex. Neither of them considered that sex. It was just a convenience thing for Ferrara—and a way to get on Nate’s nerves, no doubt—and just another tedious task for Nate, one of the many that were part of his job. It wasn’t even the most unpleasant task if he didn’t fixate on the weirdness of the fact that he had another man’s cock in his mouth—every damn day.
Because it seemed handjobs weren’t enough for Satan anymore. The greedy son-of-a-bitch wanted his mouth. Not that Nate didn’t get it. He did. He was a guy, too. As a guy, he would always prefer even a mediocre blowjob to a handjob. And Nate didn’t flatter himself by thinking that his blowjobs were anything but mediocre. He had improved, somewhat—he’d learned how to hold his breath and not choke, and his jaw ached less, because as fucked-up as it sounded, he was getting used to this. He was getting used to having a cock in his mouth, fuck.
The taste was all right, too.
Nate hummed around the thick length in his mouth, inhaling deeply with his nose as the cock pushed in and out of him. Ferrara’s hand was buried in his hair, holding him still in such a bossy, proprietary way that it was actually more infuriating and distracting than the cock thrusting into his mouth.
The door wasn’t locked once again.
A wave of embarrassment washed over Nate as he imagined someone entering the room without a knock and seeing him on his knees between his boss’s legs, having his mouth used. The worst part was, he was pretty sure the bastard wouldn’t even bother to stop if anyone were to enter. Ferrara always acted like using Nate’s mouth was his right, as if he was entitled to it, as if there was nothing embarrassing about it, regardless of their sexualities, and Nate had to admit that kind of attitude rubbed off on him in the worst possible way, making him feel like there was nothing unusual or weird about it.
But there were still times like this, when it hit him how utterly wrong this was. In normal circumstances, he would never suck another man’s cock, especially where anyone could enter and see them, and yet here he was, doing exactly that. Was it some kind of weird form of Stockholm Syndrome? Had Ferrara brainwashed him into thinking that he must do everything to please his boss?
“Teeth,” Ferrara bit out, his grip on Nate’s hair tightening.
Covering his teeth better, Nate pushed his thoughts away and focused on sucking cock. Whatever. There was no use freaking out about this. It would be over soon enough. He would be free of this man and the strange effect he had on him in two weeks.
Just two weeks to go.
Nate started bobbing his head faster.
***
“Report.”
Nate pulled a blue shirt out of the wardrobe and turned back to his boss. “The Xenos Studios director wants to have a meeting with you regarding the outsourced DLC for Star Forces, preferably today—”
“Put him on Wednesday,” Ferrara said, loosening his tie.
Making a mental note to do so, Nate continued. “ET Entertainment wants to negotiate a licensing deal for the Rangers IP—”
“No.”
The answer pleased Nate. He didn’t want a greedy company like ET Entertainment to ruin his favorite franchise even more—they were actually worse than the Caldwell Group when it came to microtransactions. “You’ll have to tell them yourself,” he said. “I don’t think they’ll believe that I’m speaking for you.”
Ferrara heaved a sigh but nodded, stretching out his hand, a silent command to give him his work phone.
After finding the right contact, Nate handed the phone to him and then stepped closer. Dropping the new shirt on the desk, Nate resumed where Ferrara had left off. He listened to the phone conversation with only half an ear, focused on unbuttoning Ferrara’s shirt and then slipping it off his wide shoulders. He greedily inhaled a lungful of his boss’s scent. Damn, that cologne was so nice, masculine but subtle and nuanced. He wondered how expensive it was. He would have liked to get it for himself if it didn’t cost a gazillion dollars.