Whatever else I was going to say died in my throat when a hot, wet mouth encased the head of my dick. Oh my God, he isn’t going to—
That thought was made redundant when Chandler swallowed my cock to the root without a fucking sound.
I exploded into a loud cough, and Dean frowned. “Are you all right?”
I wiped my mouth on my handkerchief. “I’m fine. Okay, do we really have to do this now? Because you may not want to go home, but I certainly do.” Keeping an even tone and a straight face was the most difficult task I’d ever faced, because that tightness around my dick was exquisite. I wanted to pump into his mouth, to thrust deep, to fucking move, but of course I couldn’t. And when Chandler began to slide my cock in and out of his mouth, sucking hard on the downward stroke, his fingers softly stroking my balls, I had to take my self-control to the next level. “So, can this wait?” God, how I kept my voice from cracking, I will never know.
“I wanted to ask you why I didn’t get that promotion last month.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Here I was, trying not to give it away that there was a man under my desk, bringing me closer to what promised to be the most explosive orgasm in the history of orgasms, and Dean wanted to—
Fuck. How did he do that without making a single sound? Not so much as a slurp.
I took a deep breath, not that it did any good. Chandler’s soft fingers were stroking my shaft, sending electricity skittering along its length, deep into my sac, and zipping up my spine. He was close to making me come, and I was certain he knew it, the bastard.
“I believe I told you at the time,” I enunciated carefully. “There were three candidates for the position. The successful candidate had more experience than you.”
“Bullshit.” Dean scowled. “Laura has been working in this office as long as I have. Christ, I think she even joined the company after me.”
This was not happening. I opened my mouth to retort, but Chandler flicked his tongue over my frenulum, and I had trouble sitting still.
I am so going to kill him when Dean leaves.
Sounding a hell of a lot calmer than I felt, I clasped my hands on the desk. “That is true, but she came to us with five years’ experience working in another—” Chandler gave my dick an extra hard suck, and I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort not to cry out. I cleared my throat. “Another successful copy-writing company. She had a proven track record. Were you not aware of her previous positions?” Chandler traced the length of my cock with his tongue, before giving it another good suck, and I squirmed in my chair.
“Oh.” Dean appeared crestfallen.
“I’ll take that as a no. So you’ll admit she does have more experience?” I wanted to grab Chandler’s head and skull-fuck him till I shot my load down his throat, but I needed to hold on a little bit longer.
“Yeah.” Dean’s tone said it all. “I’m sorry. I should have looked into it more before shooting my mouth off.”
I was this close to shooting my spunk and I didn’t trust myself to speak.
He sighed. “My apologies. I’ll leave you alone.” His brows knitted. “By the way, did you see Chandler leave? I was waiting for him to exit the building, but I couldn’t see him.”
I gave a quick shrug, all the movement I was capable of at that moment. “I assumed he’d left with everyone else.” That last word came out as a croak as Chandler took me deep again.
“I must’ve missed him. I’ll say goodnight then.” Dean headed for the door.
“Goodnight, Mr. Porter. Have a pleasant evening.” I pasted on a polite smile, fighting the rampant urge to thrust.
Dean paused at the door. “By the way. You might want to take something. It sounds like you’re coming down with a cough or a sore throat.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I assured him. Dean left, closing the door behind him. I waited for what I felt was a decent interval before reaching under the desk, grabbing Chandler’s head and pulling him down onto my dick. “Now you’re going to swallow every fucking drop,” I gritted out, my hips finally in motion, bumping the head of my dick against the back of his throat.
Chandler spluttered, but I didn’t give a shit. This was payback. I leaned back, hips pumping, eyes shut as I slid my cock into his mouth in a series of short, fast thrusts, relishing the noises that poured from his lips. I was going to enjoy every second of what was going to be an epic cum. And when that familiar jolt of pleasure crashed into me, I sat bolt upright, gasping, overwhelmed by the sensations. I thrust deep, one hand on his throat to feel it working as he swallowed, his own low moan mingling with mine.
When I was done, I sagged into the chair and pushed back, revealing Chandler’s reddened face and swollen lips. I grinned. “Now that was something.” I crooked my finger. “Get up. I’m not done with you.”
He crawled out of the space, moving carefully so as not to bang his head. As soon as he was upright, I ignored my still half-hard dick and grabbed him, spinning him around until he faced the desk. Then I shoved him over it. “Grip the far edge and hold on. Don’t let go.”
“Hey. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” Chandler sounded surprised.
“Oh, I did. But this is for sucking me off while Dean was here.” I reached around his waist and unbuttoned his waistband, then tugged his zipper down.
“That was your idea, remember?” he retorted.
“Yes, it was. My idea. And my decision if or when it happened, not yours.” I grasped his pants and pulled them roughly to his knees, taking his boxers with them. There it was, the arse I’d been imagining, firm and round, a light dusting of hair over his cheeks, thicker in his crack. “God, that’s a pretty arse.” I grabbed both cheeks and spread him, revealing his hole, that tight little pucker that I was about to breach.
Chandler’s breathing sped up. “Condom?”
I laughed. “Who says you’re about to get fucked? That’s wishful thinking, I’m afraid. Besides, that’s probably just what you want right now, so I don’t intend to give you that satisfaction.” I leaned over him, whispering into his ear. “My terms, Chandler. I call the shots. I decide when it happens. Not you.” And with that, I sucked on a couple of fingers, got them nice and wet, then slowly slid them into that warm, tight hole.
Not that I intended staying slow, but I wasn’t a sadist. I could be gentle—for a minute. The heartfelt groan that rolled out of him told him he was feeling every inch of those fingers.
“There was a reason I never learned to play the piano,” I whispered. “Fat fingers. They’re a curse.” That got me an even louder groan, and I snickered. “What’s the matter? Feeling a little stretched?” I seesawed them in and out of him, not bothering any longer to take it easy on him. “God, you’re tight. And your hole is clinging to my fingers.” I glanced down at his cock, stiff against the edge of the desk, leaking pre-cum that descended in a long, glistening strand. “Oh, you like this.” I gave his dick a light smack, and he let out a yelp. I sped up my finger-fucking, only now I took hold of his shaft and gave it a few good tugs.
“Stu…” It was almost a plea.