Page 55 of Forbidden

It’s a kiss filled with anger and pain. A clumsy clash of teeth and tongue, desperately seeking something I’m not sure I can give. I press my palms to his chest and push him back firmly.

“Doug. This isn’t—”

“It isn’t anything,” he snaps, turning away. “I don’t want you. I just want to feel something other than . . . I just want to fucking forget. Okay?”

“Forget what?” I ask, trying not to think about the fact that I can still feel the scruff of his beard on my chin and the faint taste of coffee from his tongue. Or the fact that I’m sporting a chub in my sweats.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, his fingers digging into his hair and gripping it so tightly I almost reach for him. “Just leave. You’re fucking useless. Pointless. You can’t even—”

I shut him up with my mouth.

If he wants me to make him forget whatever the hell has him holed up crying in his office, then maybe that’s something I can do. Gripping his chin, my fingers dig into his beard as I take his mouth with my tongue and teeth. After a split second of shock, he surges against me, his fingers gripping at my shirt and hair as he kisses me back like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.

I take hold of his shoulders and rise onto my knees, shoving him down onto the carpet. He goes willingly, letting me take control, and my pulse skips in surprise. I was expecting a fight. Because that’s what Doug McMann does. He fights everything and everyone all the damn time. It’s exhausting.

My body blanketing his, a huff of approval leaves my mouth when I find him hard in his sweatpants. He bucks his hips and I bite his lip, smiling against his labored breathing.

“Fuck me,” Doug grits out, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of my sweats and pulling them down.

I freeze, not sure if I heard him right.

His head drops back with an angry groan. “I should have known you’d be a fucking pussy about it. I—”

I clap my hand over his mouth, squeezing his cheeks way harder than needed to shut him up. “Supplies?”

Doug deflates a little below me and mumbles beneath my hand. I release my grip and he gasps out, “Desk. Second drawer.”

I push myself up and wrench open the second drawer, feeling blindly in the near darkness. When I feel the foil edge of a condom I snatch at it, searching with my other hand for lube. My fingers find a small cylinder a second later and my dick throbs in anticipation. I’m not even going to give Doug grief about having this shit in his office.

Shoving my sweats down to my knees, I tear open the condom and roll it down over my cock. Doug watches, his mouth slightly open, as he pants below me, his own hand inside his sweats. I yank them down and take hold of his hips, flipping him onto his front before I can appreciate the view. This isn’t about me and Doug. This is just sex. This is pure escapism, and I’m more than happy to oblige.

It's clear we’re on the same page because Doug pushes onto his knees, pressing his forehead to the carpet. It’s a fucking beautiful sight, but I concentrate on the job at hand. Squirting lube over my fingers, I tease his hole just a little before pushing in my index finger. He sucks in a breath and my dick throbs at how fucking tight he is. I pump my finger inside him a few times before adding in a second.

“Fuck,” he curses into the carpet. “Just fuck me already. I’m good.”

I narrow my eyes at him, even though he can’t see me, and ignore him, scissoring my fingers and working him open a little more. With my other hand, I squirt lube onto my dick, although more than I care to admit goes on the carpet.

“Masters,” he pants, pushing back on my hand as I ease a third finger. “Fucking fuck me.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth. Do you know that?” He’s tight as hell and I’m already breathing hard in anticipation of him strangling my cock. “If we had a team swear jar, we could go for a night out on your contributions alone.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” he barks.

Growling in frustration, I pull out my fingers and line up my cock, pushing into his tight heat with almost no restraint. Doug lets out a strangled cry as his body sucks me in and I bottom out quickly, my hips colliding with his ass, and I hope to God there’s no one in the gym below. His breathing is harsh, and his knuckles are white, sweat beading at his temples. A flicker of panic licks at my skin and I push a hand up under his t-shirt, pressing against his spine. “You okay?”

“Fucking move,” he grits out.

Clenching my jaw, I let myself go. If he wants me to fuck him, I’ll fuck him within an inch of his damn life. Digging my fingers into his hip, I grab the back of his neck with my other hand, crushing his face against the carpet as I slam into him over and over again. My eyes roll back in my head at the feel of him gripping my cock like a vise, and I unleash every pent-up frustration I have when it comes to Doug McMann with each punishing thrust of my hips.

Doug alternates between swearing and groaning, and I slide my hand around to his throat, hauling him up onto his knees. Using some of the lube I spilled on the carpet, I slick his dick and work him in tandem with my thrusts. He arches against me, and I bite down on his shoulder through his t-shirt as my balls draw up, the tell-tale tingles shooting along my spine. Doug cries out, his warm release spilling over my fist and I let go, letting him fall forward as I follow after, emptying into him with a final punishing thrust.

The sound of our heavy breathing fills the room and, for a second, I stay there on my knees taking in Doug’s sprawled form, his sweats around his knees and my softening dick still buried in his tight ass. I flex my hips, and he hisses, but I just grin and pull out. Tugging up my pants, I stand and tie off the condom, tossing it in the trash. Doug groans from where he’s still lying face down on the floor, then reaches for the back of his shirt, tugging it off and using it to clean himself up before throwing it across the room.

I pause, taking him in for the first time. Doug is ripped. Even crouched in the murky gray of his office, I can see the definition of his obliques. What’s more interesting is the dark hair dusting his chest, trailing down to his—

“You can go now,” he says, his voice dull and lifeless, missing its usual bite.

I huff and walk over to the coffee machine he has in the corner, smiling as I find a pot of coffee warm and ready to be poured. It’s a little tricky navigating in the near dark, but I manage to fill two mugs and carry them over to where Doug has resumed his earlier position.

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