Page 7 of Quickies

We stared at each other, panting. His eyes went wide and darkened.

I couldn’t look away.

His hand closed around my throat, his thumb on my pulse. Oh Lord, he was touching me.

My hole gaped, slick seeping into my underwear. My nipples tingled with the telltale feeling of a milk letdown. I let out a whimper when my pecs burst with sensation. The pressure in them lessened, and the relief aroused me even more. The liquid trickled out by itself. How was this possible? It began seeping through my shirt. I could feel a weak but steady stream of it leaving my nipples.

Mr. Toral dropped his gaze to my chest. He licked his lips, then looked up again, eyes lingering on my mouth.

“Are you in heat, Nicolas?” He whispered the question.

When his words registered in my brain, I gasped.

That wasn’t possible. I wasn’t supposed to go into heat for months.

I began shaking my head, but then I froze. He was staring at me, his hand around my throat.

Heat.

My lower body was throbbing, my cock and balls ached, my ass was leaking, and I was producing so much milk my clothes would be soaked with it.

I was going into a sudden heat at work, in my boss’s office.

“I didn’t know. I…”

Mr. Toral squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled through his nose. “Fuck.”

The curse made me shudder.

“I’ll leave. I’m going now.” My broken whisper was barely audible.

“And where would you possibly go like this, huh?”

I’d never seen him this furious. His grip on my throat tightened.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll leave. Please.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he ground out. “Can he pick you up?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll call a heat teacher. Several providers have an emergency service here in the city.” Except he wasn’t moving away. He was only leaning closer.

I didn’t know what to say. My entire being yearned for him, and my brain scrambled. I wantedhim, not a stranger.

I’d always wanted him. In my state of mindless desire, I couldn’t imagine not having him.

This would be a complete and total disaster. My career was over.

But I wasn’t thinking. Not really.

My insides felt excruciatingly empty, and the most desirable man in the world was touching me, holding me by my throat as if he owned me.

“Don’t call,” I whispered.

He slid his hand lower, placing it over my breastbone. His fierce eyes seemed to be drilling holes into my skull. I’d managed to hide my attraction to him for years. But at that moment, he must have seen it clearly. His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched…

…and he pushed me into the chair before turning away.

---