Page 33 of The Night Of
“Well done, Mr. President.” I undid his belt. His lips parted as he trembled, his back arching and his chest going taut.
I flew forward, my free hand landing flat on the desk beside his face. He didn’t flinch, and we stared into each other, breaths mingling between our shaking lips.
I wanted this man in every goddamn way. I wanted him spread out on this desk. I wanted him on his knees. I wanted him blindfolded and cuffed. I wanted him to beg for me, whimper and scream my name, writhe as I thrust inside him. I wanted him to come for me, spilling down my throat and into my hand. I wanted to drink him in, his lips and his cock and his soul. I wanted him to look at me exactly like he was, like I was the answer to a question he’d been asking all his life.
I tugged his zipper down and worked my hand inside his pants, into his briefs.My palm closed around his aching cock, thick and hot and hard. He whimpered, almost keening.
“Be quiet, or you’re going to summon the entire Secret Service. Do you want everyone to find you like this?”
Jonathan clamped his mouth shut.The oak of the desk whined beneath his white knuckles.
Precome leaked from his cock, had already soaked a wet patch into his briefs. There was so much, he had to have been leaking ever since I left him an hour before. I rubbed my thumb over the head of his cock. “You’ve been thinking of me, haven’t you?”
He tried to thrust into my touch. Tried to fuck my fist. He tried to wrap his legs around my hips and pull me closer. A single moan escaped on an exhale—
I surged onto him, climbing up between his spread legs. He slid backward on the desktop. Folders flew to the floor. Papers scattered. A pen rolled across the wood before thunking to the carpet. “Don’t move,” I growled.
He went as still as a board.
I licked my palm, from the wrist to my fingers, tasting the musk of his skin and the salt of his precome. “Mmm. You taste good, Jonathan.” I dropped my hand and reached for his cock again.
This time, I went slowly, memorizing the feel of his hard length, all those hot, aching inches. I twisted over his head, ran my thumb over his slit and down, beneath the crown. He was a quivering mess, jerking as he held on to the desk, biting his lip to keep silent. It was a losing battle, and I heard the desperate cries he couldn’t smother escape from his throat.
I brushed my nose against his. “You needed this, didn’t you?”
Jonathan clenched his teeth. He stared into my eyes. I saw starlight and waves.
“How long has it been?” I whispered.
“Since you,” he gasped. “Since the beach.” His cock jerked in my hand. Became, somehow, harder.
My heart lurched. “And how long has it been since someone took youlike this?” My lips nipped at his, the barest brush of skin on skin.
He was quiet, save for his quick, almost frantic pants.
“Jonathan?”
“Never. I’ve never let anyone take control.” He closed his eyes. “Only you, Sean.”
Fucking hell. I kissed him hard, our lips meeting and merging. He thrust up against me, into me, his hands still locked in a death grip on the edge of the desk even as he tried to climb my body. His shaking thighs grabbed my hips, and his ankles locked around the small of my back, urging me into him, wanting me to take more, do more, to him, right there, right then.
I pulled back.
“Sean—”
He tried to chase me, but whatever he was going to say evaporated as I made my way down his body, moving until I was crouched between his spread thighs with his perfect cock in front of me. My mouth watered. I blew out a long breath, then licked a path from his root to the crown before swirling my tongue around the head. Jonathan’s skull hit the desk.
His breathless gasps, his hollow, throaty whimpers were the soundtrack to my fantasies, to the wet dreams I’d had of him before, when I wanted him so fucking badly I used to have to sneak away and jerk off in the middle of my shift. Now I was pulling those desperate noises out of him with my mouth. It was enough to make my bones melt.
His thighs wrapped around my shoulders, caging me. I grabbed him, dug my fingers into his hips and the meat of his ass cheeks. Squeezed. He raised his head and looked down, watching me as I licked a slow circle around the head of his cock.
Jonathan’s jaw went slack, and he stopped breathing when my lips closed around his cockhead and I sucked him in, slowly. I swallowed him, taking his cock all the way down my throat until my nose was buried in his hot, musky skin.
The wood above his head screamed, the old desk not made for the pressure of a man grasping with all of his might.
Jonathan seized, trying to buck his hips and fuck my throat and keep hold of the desk and stay silent all at once. I pinned him down, grabbing his hips and ass and holding him still, growling as I glared up at him.Stay still, I ordered with my eyes.I’ll tell you when you can move.
I pumped my throat onto his cock, throatfucking him in reverse. I hollowed my cheeks and hummed, sucked the precome out of his slit, swallowed him as deep as I could go. I felt the shivers in his thighs, the trembles running up and down his spine. He gasped for oxygen that wasn’t there when I ran my fingers between his ass cheeks, rubbing the spit dripping from my messy blow job and pooling in his crotch into the cleft of his ass, around his tight hole.
