Page 36 of The Silencer

Oh, I’m not going to last. I’m going to burst in a matter of seconds.

What if he was lying naked on top of me? I wouldn’t survive. I’d just pass on into the afterlife and meet Hades.

He twists his wrist, his fist tightening around my dick, and I jerk my hips up, fucking roughly into his palm. Anthony anticipates every move I make, meeting each of my upward thrusts with a downward stroke. It’s perfect, nothing that I ever expected. But of course, it’s Anthony, a straight mafia boss who is giving me hand jobs in his office.

“Fuuuuu,” I say, my lips trying to form words.

But it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. That’s the whole point. Anthony made sure I couldn’t say another damn word to him.

And now I can’t even swear when I feel that telltale tingle in my spine. My thighs start to shake and my entire body is lit on fire. A small ember at first until it travels across my entire body and I’m positively overheating.

Suddenly, my cock jerks in his grip and I feel the rush of it. Euphoria, bliss. I come on a muffled scream as ropes of cum spill from my dick, shooting up and onto Anthony’s shirt, some even hitting his chin. It’s a feat of physics.

I didn’t even know my dick could reach those heights.

I pant beneath him, his hand still on my dick. I don’t know why he keeps doing this. I don’t even know if he likes it. He’s certainly not hard, but the way his eyes flicker as he leans over me, looking down at me, makes my entire body tingle with appreciation.

God, he’s so hot. I’d love to see him come undone.

I’d love to hear him moan.

“You needed that,” he says, his fingers loosening their grip on me.

I nod and then watch as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and mops up his chin. The scrape of his beard slides against the fabric, and I imagine that stubble on my skin—how it would leave a mark.

I let out a sigh. I do feel better, less contrary and sassy, but honestly at this rate, I’m going to need him to do this for me twice a day from now on. Maybe three times.

Good fuck, I’m getting greedy.

His hands move to my face and his fingers brush the back of my head as he undoes the knot he tied there. When the belt is pulled from my mouth, I smack my lips together and lean forward, letting him pull the restraints from my wrists.

“Not a word,” he says lowly, threatening me slightly.

I don’t listen.

“I love words though,” I say, my throat dry. “And I’m very thirsty.”

Anthony hovers above me and then shifts upward, walking toward a small fridge near his desk. He pulls out a water bottle and brings it to me. It’s cool, damp with condensation, and when I pull the lid off and take a swig, the cool liquid flows down my throat.

Fuck, that’s nice.

That’s real nice.

“Better?” Anthony asks, and I eye him over the top of my water bottle.

“Yes, but you? Are you happier?”

He rubs at his chin, the same skin that my cum coated earlier.

He doesn’t answer, so I blurt, “Are you like, gay? Or bi? Or something? I mean, there is a giant spectrum…”

His eyes flash to mine.

“I’m straight.”

“Hm,” I say and then take another gulp of water. “Because you’ve like, touched my dick twice. I’ve never had a straight man do that to me before.”

Anthony walks to his table with the whiskey and pours himself another glass. “It keeps you quiet for a few minutes.”

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