Page 22 of Reluctantly You

His eyes snap open and he freezes.

He’s getting a blow job in his office. By another man. Something moves through me. Something intense that I don’t quite understand.

I don’t like Mitchell—despise him, really—and yet, something stirs between my legs, settling heavily in my balls. I lean against the doorframe and shove my hands in my pockets, exuding nonchalance when I’m feeling anything but.

The man between Mitchell’s legs pops off his cock and peers up at me over the desk.

“By all means, don’t stop now. Keep going,” I bite out, sneering as Mitchell’s eyes widen and his cheeks redden. He looks reluctant to do as I suggest, but the man between his legs just turns back around and goes at it, his moans and slurps heard from across the room.

And I watch it all, the way Mitchell’s eyes meet mine, his hands fisted on the arms of his chair as he continues to get off. He cares so little about work that he’s called in a hookup to get him through his last hour.

I’m paying him to get a blow job.

I should be paying the man between Mitchell’s legs instead. He’s working hard, trying his best to make Mitchell come, but of course he’s not. He’s just sitting there, eyeing me in confusion. He can’t even dothisright.

I should hate that he’s doing it on company time, but to be honest, I quite like that I’ve found him like this, cock out, chest heaving while I intrude on something private.

I had no idea Mitchell was into men, but then again, the way he looked at me at the gym…

The gagging noises from the man between Mitchell’s legs intensify, and I know he’s deep throating, working that cock so well. My own dick twitches in my pants at the sight before me, but I shove the feelings down.

I don’t like this man and I won’t be fucking him. That’s a privilege he’ll never have.

Mitchell’s eyes move away from me and down to the guy sucking his dick. He’s working it like it’s an Olympic sport and Mitchell is not appreciating the effort put into it.

I bet he can’t appreciate any nice thing given to him. I bet he’s the kind of man who takes everything for granted.

“Don’t mind me,” I say cruelly. “I have all night.”

“Fuck you. This is my office. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“It is my office. I own the building. Now, come so that I can get on with my life.”

His mouth falls open and his body finally starts to tense and twitch, edging toward release.

His legs shake slightly, and I watch as he grabs on to that head of hair and shoves it down, emptying into the throat that’s choking on him. I watch as the man grapples with Mitch’s thighs, trying to pull off to catch a breath, but Mitchell just holds him there, fucking into his throat for a long minute before finally letting go.

Now, that wasn’t very nice. Very rude, actually.

The man falls off his cock, gasping slightly and holding his neck. Mitchell doesn’t seem to care, just quickly zips up his pants and shoves the man away. The same man who is now swiping at his mouth, his body shaking slightly, trying to regain his composure.

“Is that really all you’re going to do, Mr. Morris?” I ask, and Mitchell’s jaw tenses.

“Just…fuck off. This is none of your business.”

I push off the doorjamb and make my way toward his desk as the man struggles to his feet. His cheeks are red and his eyes are wet and puffy. He looks almost abused, and yet his cock is still hard, straining out from his tight jeans.

“You’re not going to reciprocate?” I ask.

“I never fucking do. They know this. I’m not gay.”

Of course he thinks that. I’m not surprised.

“Hm.” I nod toward the man, who looks like he’s in his mid-twenties. He’s pretty, with dark curly hair and a cherub-like face. He deserves better. He deserves to come for all that hard work he put in.

“Come here…do you have a name?”

I wait and the man swallows, rubbing at his throat.

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