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I sit. Damon straddles me again and his cock bumps against mine. He looks down and licks his lips again. “You’re big.”
Looking down between us, I see that Damon isn’t as thick and long as me, but he’s got a good-sized dick. One that will probably stretch my mouth when I suck him off. I will have his dick in my mouth at some point in these two weeks. Lots of times in these two weeks.
“How do you want to touch me?”
“Um … your dick. Can I—?”
“Yes, please, touch my dick.”
Not wasting time, Damon wraps his hand not just around my cock, but his own. “Oh fuck, baby,” I groan. “Are you sure about this? Oh fuck.” I thrust into his hand and Damon curses.
We both start to move, thrusting into Damon’s small hand. He can’t wrap it around both of us, so I take over, giving us both a squeeze. “Wrap your arms around me,” I tell him. When he does, I lean forward and kiss him, jerking us in tandem. The mixture of our precome gives me some moisture.
Our kiss is messy and a little frantic. I try to slow it down, wanting him to enjoy his first time frotting, but I can’t. I need him. I need to feel his come all over me, soaking my chest and dripping down my cock. With my other hand on his hip, I move him in time with my stroking.
“Michael,” Damon says, snatching his mouth from mine. “I’m going to come. I’m so sorry … I’m …”
Before he finishes his sentence, I feel his hot release on my abs, some running down my hand.
“Fuck, baby,” I mutter, my orgasm overwhelming me, my come joining his, a mess between our bodies. I bury my face in Damon’s chest, where he’s lazily thrusting against me, moaning softly.
His hips finally still, then he collapses on top of me, breathing heavily into my neck. I peel my hand from his hip and rub it gently over one of his braids. His hair is so soft. I’d love to feel it between my fingers while he’s sucking my dick. My cock tries to rally at that thought.
Damon lifts his head, smiling at me dreamily. “Michael. That was … I … whatwasthat?”
Smiling, I pull Damon closer to me—keeping my messy hand away from him—and explain the beauty that is frotting.
Chapter 13
Damon
Thenextmorning,Iwalk around the apartment, making sure I have everything. I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do or say when I get to the new Velli Corp. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to train people when we went to college for the same thing. I mean, I’m there to help train them up on the company’s protocols, but do I really know what I’m doing?
I think I do, since I’m the type of weird person that likes to read the work manuals so I don’t have to ask people questions, but can I explain the things that are written? I don’t like talking to people most of the time, so am I capable of training them?
“Hell. Hell, hell, hell,” I chant, pulling up the couch cushion to look for my glasses.
“Thought you didn’t curse,” Michael says from behind me, making me jump. I whirl around, hand on my chest and look him over. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. My eyes immediately drop to his dick print. Even when he’s not hard, it’s impressive. I wet my lips, thinking about how big he is and how he felt in my hand. How his cock looked next to mine, so big and an angry red, the tip leaking because of me.
“My eyes are up here,” he jokes, and I dart my eyes to his grinning face.
I roll my eyes playfully and go back to what I was doing. I lift the cushions and pat around, then put them back when I don’t find what I need. Then I get down on all fours, checking under the couch, but not finding them.
“What are you looking for?”
Standing, I give a frustrated growl and stalk past him to the room. He catches my arm and spins me around. Sighing, I say, “I can’t find my glasses. I don’t remember what I did with them yesterday after … we … after …”
Michael raises an eyebrow and reaches for my face, sliding my glasses off. “You mean these?”
My face heats and I duck my head, reaching up blindly—I should have known my glasses were on my face because I could see clearly—to grab them back.
When I have them back on, I look up at Michael to see that he doesn’t look amused anymore. He looks concerned.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
Throwing my arms up, I brush past him to sit on the couch. “I can’t do this, Michael. I’m not smart enough or outgoing enough. I’m just … not enough.”
The words sting as they make their way past my lips, but they’re true. I’ve never been good enough for anything. I’m still not sure how I got the job at Velli Corp since my interview was crap. I’m not sure why Mr. Archer picked me for this job and I’m certainly not sure why Michael wants me. I’m not enough and the sooner everyone sees that, the better for me. Then they’ll leave me alone and not expect much.
