“Not all the way, not tonight,” he says, but his words are heavy with longing. “Just take me to the edge.”
That, I can do.
In one smooth motion, I unravel his belt and cast it aside.
“I love it when you boss me around,” I confess.
“Noted,” he says. “I should do it more often.”
“Please do. It drives me wild.”
His appetite sparks.
“You really wanna cross this line?”
Too late.
“Fuck client boundaries,” I whisper.
Leaning back, he grinds himself against my leg.
I can feel it through my pants.
Hard as concrete. Quite a big boy.
“Ohhh…” he moans.
He’s getting off on that friction as much as I am.
And I need more.
I want to be inside him.
But the deeper I crave it, the slower I go.
Savour it, I tell myself.
The longer he stays, the longer I can drink him in.
Soaking in every minute.
Marco’s lips track a path from my chest to my stomach.
His finger ventures along the inside of my waistband, mouth merely inches from the tip of my erection.
He teases back and forth beneath my belly button.
Damn it feels good.
I could let him do this for hours.
Perhaps it has been hours.
At some point we hear the distant rumble of the cleaning crew departing.
Even when we knock over a small metal shelf, nobody comes to investigate.
No footsteps.
