Page 18 of Love and Horns


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He sits down at his desk, spinning his chair to face me and dropping his elbows to his desk, our eyes locked on each other.

“Believe it or not, you aren’t my employee Carter, you are paid by Ovis. I don’t expect obedience or submission from you. Granted, I am your supervisor so I do expect a level of respect. That being said, what happened was some friendly competition outside of work and nothing more than that. I didn’t even see you after you took your losing shots, I assumed you left and that was the end of it.”

“I didn’t leave right away, I was too busy puking in the bathroom for like half an hour,” I snap back, the pleasant professional tone I held before now sharp and sour like a lemon.

“To be fair, I told you how to drink them and you didn’t want to listen,” he says with a smirk, a weak defense on his part.

“Ya, you did. What you failed to mention was that the order was for a specific reason! Had I known the Pickleback was going to make the Blow Job curdle in my stomach, maybe I would have trusted you.”

“So what you’re saying is, you should have listened to me but chose not to and then paid for it in puke?”

Ugh, I want to punch him in his stupidly handsome face. Yup, I said it. He’s handsome. Of course he is. Why would a jerk be ugly? That would make it easier to hate him.

And easier to resist him.

And easier to not want to feel his body against mine again.

I shift on the couch, my knees falling open and my elbows pressing into my legs. I am thankful wore jeans today instead of a dress. I rest my chin in my hands, doing my best not to stare into his muddy brown eyes. They could pull me in like quicksand. I can’t let them.

“Apology accepted,” he blurts, reaching to his mini fridge for a drink.

“Thank you so much,” I practically yell in his face, raising to my feet and offering my hand for a shake. If he gets a drink now, there will be no question it was me who messed with it.

He looks at me confused, his hand hesitant to meet mine between us. When he finally complies, the warmth from his skin touching mine bolts up my arm and I swear I can feel it between my legs, too. I hold it longer than I should, definitely longer than what would be considered normal.

Before I know what is happening, he is against me, his mouth locked around mine, his body wrapping around me like a boa constrictor in the jungle. I let out a soft moan, inviting him to take things further. What the heck am I doing?!

Within seconds, my back hits the wall, his knee between my legs pushing them apart and his tongue is demanding entry between my lips. My hand tangles into his tousled hair. I free it from his beanie and throw it toward his couch. With the control I have now, I can move his head exactly how I want it.

He pulls his lips away from mine, licking along my jaw and lightly sucking my neck. We are acting like high school kids, making out in secret, and rubbing our jeans against each other ready to start a denim fire. His tongue traces my pulse and I wonder if he can discern it pounding against his mouth.

My hands pull at his shirt, dying to get his skin on mine, and feel his heat radiating onto me. I can venture along his lean muscles and want to take a turn exploring his body with my tongue. I tug his hair, signaling I need his mouth back on mine and he takes the hint. His brown eyes wild, his breathing quick, his pants stiff.

I raise on my toes to take his mouth again, before spinning us around, pushing him against the wall so I can have a turn in the driver's seat. He lets out a grunt as his back hits it, my small frame overpowering him in the heat of the moment. My hand traces the waistband of his pants and at that moment, I decide I need to release him from his confines.

My thumbs easily undo the button and make quick work of his zipper. I can feel his steel bulging from inside, his now open pants giving it some relief. I want to free it all the way. Need to. I run my tongue along the seam of his lips before lowering to my knees in front of him.

From this angle, I can truly appreciate his current state. His cheeks colored pink, and his hair more of a mess than when we started. I bring my eyes to his crotch, knowing once I cross this line I can’t take it back. If he tells me to stop, there will be awkward tension every day until the shoot wraps. This is the moment in movies when you know the heroine is making the wrong choice but she can’t hear you screaming at the screen to stop.

And I can’t be reasoned with as I free his manhood, my tongue dampening my lips ready to take him in. He pulls my hair again like he did last night when ironically I was engaging in a different type of blow job. His soft tug forces my gaze away from his straining erection to meet his eyes again. He doesn’t say anything, trying to communicate with me without words. The way I communicate back is by pushing my tongue out and running it along the taught tip, keeping my eyes locked on his.

A quiet curse drops from his lips and I take that as my cue to keep going, sliding his shaft along my tongue into my throat. He is girthy, which makes me have to open my mouth wider to accommodate him. I feel the tip grace the back of my throat and I swallow, tightening my neck around him. He moans in approval and I continue with my rhythm, taking him deep, swallowing him down, and licking along his hardness.

He has kept his hands off me since I knelt in front of him except for my hair. Finally, he takes full hold of my head. His grip is guiding, not demanding, as if feeling my head move up and down is erotic enough of an experience for him. Against my better judgment, I pull my mouth from him.

“Is this how you like it?” I ask shyly, knowing that I have broken the trance we were both in. The reality that he can stop this right now makes my stomach turn worse than the Pickleback shot.

“You don’t hear me complaining one bit, darling. As long as you're playing nice, feel free to do whatever you want to him,” he says through a deep exhale, his chest still rising and falling in rapid succession.

I give a small nod before taking him back into my mouth, allowing my hand to drift down to his balls to feel how tight they are against his body, ready for their release.

As I flick my tongue along his shaft, I feel a hand dragging down to my neck.

“I can feel everything you’re doing both on my cock and against your throat. You have no idea how fucking hot that is.”

I moan around his length, pushing it deeper into my throat knowing he can feel it with his hand. I quicken my pace, his hand tightening slightly around my neck and I can tell he is about to come in my mouth. I have every intention of swallowing every drop.

I grip his thighs, being sure he is against the wall so he stays upright as I continue to sheath his member with my mouth. There's a knock on the door and a shout from the other side.

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