Page 144 of Midnight Curfew

“Push-ups,” I whisper.

His eyes flare, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or more turned on, but in a moment, he’s on his hands and rising and falling faster and faster.

Pumping my cock, I feel my stomach flip, and I close my eyes, moaning.

“Oh, fuck…” I gasp.

I hear him groan, and I open my eyes to see him exercising fast, breathing hard. A little cum drips out of my tip, and I use it to lubricate. Sweat drips down my temple, every muscle in my body tense.

I jerk my chin. “Pull-ups.”

I’m about to come.

Slowly, he stands, hesitating.

“You want your job next year?” I ask him.

One eye seems to dial in on me as if he’s amused and wondering how long he’ll indulge me. But he also knows I have the power and I might follow through.

Jumping up, he catches the bar in both hands and lowers his eyes to me, not drifting away as he pulls up. His thigh muscles press against his pant legs, and God, his stomach…Fuck.

I should fucking go over and suck him off, making him keep his chin above the bar and telling him he can’t release until he releases.

The bulge in his groin grows, and he never looks away.

“Faster,” I pant.

He rises and falls faster and faster, sweat gliding down his chest and stomach, and I hear growls leave his throat. I pump, sliding my hand up and down, feeling all my blood rush to my groin. “Yes…” That’a boy.

I’m close, but then he moans and falls to his feet, breathing hard. I stop and watch him charge over, slamming his hand on the mirror above my head and leaning down over me.

I’m frozen, my orgasm at the cusp but starting to subside. He’s going to hurt me. Or throw me down on the floor. With Dallas, there’s very little difference.

But instead, he breathes hard, gazing into my eyes, his brow…desperate.

He slides his hand around my neck, gently stroking my Adam’s apple with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Sorry for what? Something he did or something he’s going to do?

He leans his mouth closer to mine. “I’m sorry I was careless with you,” he whispers.

A swelling the size of an apple lodges in my chest, and a mixture of anger and pride fills my head. I don’t want his apologies. That would imply he’d hurt me, and I hate that he knows he did.

Still, though, my eyes sting. I want him to say more.

He moves to my ear. “I will never be careless again.”

And before I can decide if that’s a promise or a threat, he brushes his mouth down my neck, over my collar bone, and down my chest, fire spreading under my skin as he takes my cock into his mouth.

He swallows me up, the warmth and wet making every hair on my body rise. I groan, arching my back against the mirror and fisting his hair. He sucks, my head floats three feet above my neck, and my orgasm crests immediately.

Looking up at me, he licks my shaft, teasing, but I’m already there.

“Ah, fuck,” I grunt.

He bobs ups and down, throating it, and I shove his head down, holding it there as I tense, groan, and spill. My fingers relax and clench, and relax and clench again in his hair, the tingles spreading through my stomach, down my thighs, and filtering to every limb.

When I finally let him go, I realize what I did, and dart my gaze down at him. I didn’t mean to choke him.