“Don’t agree so easily.” Gray’s jaw tightens. “This isn’t a game to me. I don’t play at control.” His hands move to his tie,loosening it with efficient movements, pulling it free from his collar. He sets it carefully on my dresser. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I understand,” I say, trying to match his seriousness even as desire makes my voice shake. “I’ll obey. Whatever you want.”
Gray holds my gaze, assessing my sincerity. Then, apparently satisfied, he begins to unbutton his shirt. Each button reveals another inch of tanned skin, another plane of hard muscle. He shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His chest is broad and powerful, tapering to a narrow waist. Just like I remember from the sauna. His dog tags hang from his neck, glinting in the half-light.
“Kneel,” Gray says, the single word hanging in the air between us.
I drop immediately, my knees hitting the carpet hard. The small pain grounds me. I look up at Gray, waiting for his next command, my pulse racing so fast I feel lightheaded.
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to thread through my hair. His grip is firm but not painful, controlling rather than hurting. Something in me settles at the contact, a quiet voice whispering that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
This is just for tonight, I tell myself. After tonight, I’ll have to step back. Keep my distance. Gray will start his new job working for my father, and I won’t be the reason he loses this opportunity. But for now—just for these hours—I can have this. I can be his.
“Good boy,” Gray murmurs, and the praise sends a jolt of pleasure through me, making my cock strain against my suit pants.
His free hand comes to cup my jaw, thumb tracing my lower lip. “I want you to take off your clothes. Stay on your knees.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and start with my tie, loosening it with fumbling fingers and pulling it over my head. Next my jacket, which requires some awkward maneuvering to shrug off. Gray watches the whole time, his expression unreadable, his hand never leaving my hair.
My shirt is harder. I manage the buttons but struggle with the cuffs. Gray doesn’t help. Just watches me work it out, testing me. Finally, I get the shirt off, tossing it aside.
“Now the rest,” he instructs.
I undo my belt, lifting my hips slightly to work my pants down along with my underwear. It’s an ungraceful process, and I feel heat creeping up my neck at how exposed I am. How vulnerable. I finally kick the last of my clothing free, kneeling naked before Gray while he remains half-dressed.
His eyes rake over me, taking in every inch of my exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he says quietly, like he’s talking to himself.
The praise makes me flush deeper, unused to this kind of attention.
Gray’s hand tightens in my hair, tilting my head back to look up at him. “I want your mouth,” he says. “Open.”
I part my lips immediately, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Gray’s other hand moves to his belt, unbuckling it. The metallic sound of his zipper sends another pulse of arousal through me.
He frees himself, already hard, his thick and imposing cock jutting out from his body. My mouth waters.
“Just the tip,” Gray instructs, guiding himself to my lips. “Get it wet.”
I dart my tongue out, remembering his taste from that first night here. After he dragged me out of the club, which seems like ages ago even though it’s been just a little over a week. The salty tang of skin, the slight bitterness of precum. Gray hisses through his teeth, his hand tightening in my hair.
“That’s it,” he encourages as I take just the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. “Take more now. Slowly.”
I open wider, letting him slide deeper. It’s overwhelming—the weight of him on my tongue, the stretch of my jaw, the sense of being filled. But I want it. I want him.
Gray’s free hand comes to rest against my throat, not squeezing, just feeling the bulge as he pushes deeper. “Relax your throat,” he murmurs. “Breathe through your nose.”
I try to follow his instructions, fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of my throat. Tears spring to my eyes, but I don’t pull back. I want this. Want to please him. Want to be good for him.
“Look at me,” Gray commands, and I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. Something shifts in his expression at what he sees in mine. His rhythm falters for just a moment before he regains control. “That’s perfect,” he says, his voice rougher now. “Perfect boy.”
The praise does something to me, makes me moan around his length. I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder, wanting more of those words. More of that approval in his eyes.
Gray lets me continue for several minutes, guiding my movements with the hand in my hair, teaching me without words what he likes. I lose myself in it, in the rhythm, in the sounds he makes above me. In the sense of being useful, of being exactly what he needs.
Just when I think he’s close, his breathing becoming more ragged, his grip tightening, he pulls back. I whine at the loss, leaning forward to chase his cock, but the hand in my hair holds me firmly in place.
“Not yet,” Gray says, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “On the bed. Hands above your head.”
