I swallowed and managed, “So the sushi delivery was window dressing?”
Calvin nipped my chin as he deftly unbuttoned my pants. “The sushi is because I like you.”
“Then this is dessert?”
Calvin smiled and got down on his knees—no easy task in my office, which was quite literally a converted closet. He tugged the clothes down enough to free my semi, took the head into his mouth, and groaned quietly, like I was doinghima favor. That reverb in the back of Calvin’s throat, his hot, wet mouth, and our sudden skullduggery had me as hard as goddamn granite in no time.
Then Max knocked on the office door. “Yo, boss.”
I nearly choked on my tongue, shoved Calvin back, leaned around him, and flipped the lock so I wasn’t caught with my pants down in front of customers, Max, and God. “Wh-what?”
“Mr. Michaelson is here.”
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
Calvin smiled as he stroked my bare thighs, but refrained from commenting.
“He’s here to pick up Civil War gold and silver polish,” I answered.
“Cool,” Max said. I listened to him take the steps beside the counter down to the showroom floor, and then his and Mr. Michaelson’s voices echoed from somewhere near the Victrola.
“Want to keep going?” Calvin asked.
“I can’t go out there looking like this,” I hissed, pointing to my dick. “I’ll put someone’s eye out.”
Calvin put a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, then took a breath and once again wrapped his lips around my cock. By age thirty-three, I’d experienced enough blowjobs to say, with absolute confidence, that Calvin’s skills were next level. Not only did the man not have a gag reflex, but the way he alternated between hard and soft, fast and slow, using his lips and tongue, while the hollow of his cheeks darkened with a flush I’d now come to understand happened with little warning for someone as fair-skinned as Calvin—it was like a master class in face-fucking. And the way his freckles popped from the blush, how he rubbed at the outline of his own dick with his free hand—those were just stay-after-class-for-extra-credit details to savor.
Max knocked again. “Hey, Seb?”
“Oh my God.” I put both hands on Calvin’s shoulders and eased his mouth off me. “What?” I asked again, maybe a bit snippier this time.
There was hesitation in Max’s voice as he said, “I, uh, I can’t find—”
“It’s in the glass display by the front window.”
“All right. Thanks.”
“If he knocks a third time, I’m killing him,” I said.
Calvin arched one eyebrow. “It’s probably not smart to be telling your detective boyfriend about your premeditated murder plot.”
“If my detective boyfriend would just—just—help me out here, we could avoid a future of prison sentences and conjugal visits.”
Calvin reached a hand up to pet my lower stomach. “Help you with what, baby?”
I swallowed audibly. “Calvin.”
He drew his hand down to wrap it around the base of my dick. “You mean, help you with this gorgeous cock?” Calvin looked up again.
I nodded.
“You want to say it?” he asked.
I opened my mouth, but the words were lost, like hourglass sand slipping from between my fingers. I knew he loved dirty talk, but every time I tried to return the favor, I felt like I’dactuallydie from the embarrassment. So I hesitantly shook my head.
Calvin smiled. “That’s okay.” He put his mouth on me again.
I grabbed the back of his head with one hand, the doorframe with the other, and just rode the incredible pleasure higher and higher until I started to peak. My balls drew up, stomach muscles clenched, and Calvin grunted as my hips jerked. “I’m close,” I whispered.
