Page 29 of Lying to the Boss

“I know,” I moan, my dick throbbing.

“Yes, I bet you do, don’t you?”

I wiggle my hips. “Lane, please—”

He leans over me, kissing my cheek before whispering in my ear, “Be right back.”

My heart pounds heavily as he moves across the room, unzips his bag, and rummages around. I know he’s back when I feel his mouth on my ass, kissing and sucking. I moan, pressing into him, moving to guide his mouth where I want him.

He obliges, of course, moving right to my hole and eating me like he’s been dreaming about it for decades. His hands massage my ass as he licks me, and I try to stop myself from humping the bed. It’s not easy, though, because it feels so good. The friction. The pressure. His tongue.

“Lane,” I moan. “Your dick. In my ass. Please.”

He spanks me, the loud slap echoing through the room. It jolts me, and a yelp comes out of me.

“When I say.” He slips a finger inside and continues to lick my hole at the same time. My body tenses for just a second before relaxing and allowing him deeper.

It feels so good.

So fucking good.

“Don’t make me come like this,” I whine, gripping onto the blankets so hard my fingers burn.

His tongue is gone, but he adds a second finger, fucking me slowly. I hear him panting behind me; I can imagine his face flushed the way I’m sure mine is.

“Lane—” I look over my shoulder to catch him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth. His gaze finds mine, holding it steady as he rolls the rubber onto his cock in a way that’s almost taunting. My hole throbs, wanting him inside of me so I can come.

And just feel him there…

He steps forward once the condom is fully on, lines himself up and slowly pushes inside. My eyes fall closed and I let out a low sigh as my face hits the mattress again.

Lane bottoms out, leaning over me to grasp my hair. He pulls my head back and slams into me while his other hand grasps my hip.

Note to self: don’t cut your hair too short.

Chapter Eleven

Lane

Tage feels better than I remember; his warm, tight hole wrapped around me like it was molded just for my cock.

He whimpers and moans as I fuck him hard and fast, tugging on his hair and digging my fingers into his hip to keep him exactly where I want him. I take my pleasure from him, while knowing he’s getting it too. We’re compatible in bed; it just works for us.

Same way it does in the office, but I’ll think about that later.

“Come here,” I say, before pulling on his hair. He pushes himself up, and I wrap one arm around his stomach, and the other goes around his chest, his back sticking to my chest with sweat.

I go deeper like this, but I can’t go as fast—and that’s fine. No matter how I fuck him, it feels good. I rock into him, grinding when my hips hit his ass.

His fingers claw at my forearms, heart pounding as he bounces on my cock.

“Fuck, Lane,” he cries. “You feel so good.”

“Are you going to come for me?” I growl in his ear.

“Yes. Please. Make me!”

I grasp his cock, stroking it along with my thrusts. My own orgasm is building, and part of me wants to hold it off so this won’t end, but it’s too good to stop or slow down.