Late Nights With My Boss (3 of 3)

Blake's apartment was wrapped in a kind of hush that didn't feel like silence.

It felt like anticipation.

Warm, low lighting spilled across rich wooden floors, casting soft golden shadows that flickered and shifted with every movement we made.

And there, on the couch, he sat beside me. Close. His thigh against mine.

That cologne; spiced bourbon and something darker... drifted between us. God, it wrapped around me like hands.

I was no longer thinking about the drink in my hand. Or the fact that we'd just left a rooftop dinner that felt like a dream.

I was thinking about how good he looked with his shirt undone at the top, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms.

I was thinking about how his eyes held mine. Focused. Dark. Wanting.

And then he touched me.

A single hand, rising slowly, deliberately, until his palm cradled my cheek.

His thumb grazed just under my eye, slow and reverent. Like he was memorizing me.

My breath caught but I didn't pull back. I tilted my head, just enough to give him my answer.

And that was all he needed.

His mouth met mine.

Soft at first. Testing. Tasting.

Then deeper. Fuller. Like he'd been starving. Like he'd waited too long to do this properly.

His lips moved with precision... slow but certain.... commanding in that quiet, maddening way he did everything.

And when his tongue brushed mine, I made a sound.. small and unguarded and felt the moment shift.

He pushed forward.

I leaned back.

Until I was against the couch cushions, lips parted, chest rising fast beneath the fabric of my shirt.

Then he broke the kiss.

But only for a second.

He stood, his body all lines and heat and height and looked down at me with something that made my heart punch against my ribs.

Then he bent down, hands sliding under me, and lifted me clean off the couch.

I gasped. "Blake......."

"Shh." His voice was soft, low, steady. "Let me."

His grip was strong. Possessive. His forearms flexed beneath me as he carried me down the hallway like I weighed nothing.

My arms clung around his neck, skin burning where it met his.

He nudged open the door with his foot.

And then he laid me down.

The bed was massive... sheets a dark slate gray that shimmered faintly under the bedside lamp. Soft. Silky. Cool against the back of my thighs.

He stood over me, shirt half open, belt hanging undone.

I could see the outline of him.

The shape of his chest beneath the maroon fabric. The line of his stomach.

And lower......

The thick swell beneath his waistband.

My breath caught. My thighs pressed together.

He began to unbuckle, slow and sure. The sound of the leather sliding free was deliberate, intimate. It sent a pulse straight through me.

But before he could finish,

I sat up and pressed a hand to his chest.

"I want to," I whispered, eyes flicking up to his.

He paused.

And then nodded. "Go ahead."

God, the way he gave over control so easily... it only made me want him more.

My fingers found the buttons of his shirt and undid them one by one, slow and trembling, revealing smooth, warm skin.

His chest--sculpted, lightly dusted with dark hair. His abs..... subtle, lean, a trail of hair leading down.

I leaned in and kissed the slope of his neck, just under his jaw.

Felt the way his breath caught.

Then down.... my lips grazed his collarbone, the center of his chest.

His hands clenched at his sides. Letting me.

Letting me explore him.

And when I looked up at him, his eyes were already on me. Dark. Fixed.

I felt his gaze like a touch. Like he was memorizing every second.

We moved together, fluid, wordless.

He slid back onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard, shirt shrugged from his shoulders now.

I climbed into his lap, straddling him, knees sinking into the mattress.

My body lined up against his. My breath tangled with his.

"Hi," I whispered.

His hands found my waist, gripping gently. "Hi."

The next kiss wasn't shy.

It was deep, slow, maddening. The kind of kiss that starts in the mouth and sinks lower. That makes your whole body ache to be touched.

His hands slid beneath my shirt, fingers brushing my spine. I arched.

I kissed his neck, his jaw, the line of his throat.

My hands roamed..... down his chest, over his nipples..... flicking softly, rolling gently with the pads of my thumbs.

His breath hitched. "Fuck..."

That sound was everything.

I slid down his body, lips trailing over his skin, tongue tracing a line past the ridges of his abs.

When I reached his waistband, I paused. Unfastened the button. Lowered the zipper.

And then I saw them.

Tight Black trunks.

Smooth. Tight. Clinging to every inch.

The waistband rode low on his hips, exposing the V-line beneath.

His cock was straining against the fabric, thick and heavy and outlined perfectly.

I brought my fingers to the hem and traced slowly upward, dragging along the curve of his thigh.

Then I looked up at him, lips parted.

"I'd love to taste you, Mr. Maddox," I said.

His chest rose sharply. His fingers flexed against the sheets.

"You're sure?" he asked, voice wrecked and low, barely holding on.

"Yes," I breathed. "I want to."

And then I leaned in.

My mouth found him through the fabric first, teasing. Slow pressure, wet heat, tongue tracing the outline before I peeled the waistband down.

What I saw made me groan.

Thick. Flushed. Gorgeous.

I wrapped a hand around the base, held him steady, and opened my mouth and that's when his hand slid into my hair.

"Fuck, Troy..."

The way he said my name.... shaky, reverent... was enough to make me drip.

I took my time. Drew my lips down the length of his cock, swirling my tongue, savoring every inch of his beautiful cock. He was warm, hard, and perfect in my mouth.

And when I glanced up...

His head was tipped back, eyes fluttered shut, lips parted.

Completely undone.

Because of me.

And I hadn't even started yet.

___________________

Blake's chest rose, then fell.

And then he let out the quietest, lowest, most devastating sound..."Fuck, Troy..."

His hand cupped the side of my face as I knelt between his thighs. My fingers were still curled around the waistband of his black trunks, and I could feel him twitch beneath the fabric--thick and already hot with need.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, voice rough but so gentle. "We don't have to rush."

I looked up at him, lips parted, breath already shallow. "I want to," I said again, firmer now. "I want all of you."

He didn't say anything else.... just nodded once, eyes dark and locked on mine. And then he leaned back against the pillows, his knees falling slightly apart.

He gave himself to me.

I hooked my fingers under the waistband and slowly.. so slowly.... peeled his underwear down his hips.

He was big. Thick. Hard. His cock curved slightly toward his stomach, flushed and heavy, and the second I freed it, it sprang up against his abs.

My mouth watered.

I didn't look away. Not once.

I leaned in and kissed the crease of his thigh, then the base of him. I felt him tense, a soft inhale stuttering out of his chest. My lips moved higher, trailing kisses along the side of his shaft, my tongue flicking just beneath the head. He tasted clean, warm, slightly salty from the heat of his skin.

I wrapped my hand around his cock, slow and careful.

God, he was thick.

My fingers didn't quite meet around the base.

And then I opened my mouth.

I started with a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. A gentle press of lips to the shaft.

Then I slid my tongue over it, circling the head, feeling the way his thighs twitched beneath me. His hips flexed forward, just a little, but he stayed patient... watching me, letting me take my time.

I wrapped my lips around the tip and slowly slid down.

Just an inch. Then another.

"Jesus," Blake whispered, one hand slipping into my hair, fingers light, trembling. "Troy..."

I moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating in my throat, and that made him exhale--deep and ragged. I sucked him in deeper, pulling more of him into my mouth, my hand stroking the rest in smooth, slow motions.

He was so hard in my mouth. I could feel him get harder by the second.

Heavy on my tongue.

Every time I bobbed down a little further, I felt him pulse.

His hand tightened in my hair, not to control, not to push. Just to feel. To ground himself.

"Babe," he groaned. "Your lips feel so fucking good."

I kept going, working him slowly, my jaw stretching to take more. Every few strokes, I came up to swirl my tongue over the tip again, then sank back down with a long, slow breath. I could taste the first drops of his precum now--salty, hot, making my chest ache with want.

And the sounds he made...

Low grunts, soft moans, shaky breaths. Every time I hollowed my cheeks or gave him a slow stroke from base to tip, he swore under his breath and said my name like it was a prayer.

"Troy... fuck... just like that..."

I looked up at him, eyes glassy, lips swollen, saliva glistening on my chin. His abs were tight, his chest rising in uneven breaths, his whole body strung taut like a live wire.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, breathless.

He stared down at me, eyes wide, voice caught.

"No. Don't stop. Please..... don't fucking stop."

That was all I needed.

I took his cock deeper in my throat. Faster. Still slow enough to savor, but with more rhythm now, more need. I moved my hand in time with my mouth, twisting gently at the base. I sucked him with heat and care and just enough pressure to make him curse again.

His thighs started to tremble.

"I'm close," he said, voice breaking. "Troy... babe...."

I kept going. I didn't stop.

I wanted to wreck him.

I wanted to feel him fall apart in my mouth. For me.

I wanted to taste Mr. Maddox.

And then I felt it, the way his hips jerked, the way his hand flexed hard in my hair, the way he gasped and moaned out my name like it hurt to say it....

He came.

Hot, fast, pulsing across my tongue.

I swallowed without thinking. All of it.

And when I finally pulled off, breathing hard, lips wet, eyes still locked on his, I watched him fall back into the pillows, chest heaving, skin flushed.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered.

I crawled up over him, straddling his hips, kissing the side of his jaw.

He was still catching his breath.

"That was..." he began, then shook his head, smiling like he didn't even have the words.

I grinned against his neck.

"You taste incredible, Mr. Maddox."

His laugh was low and broken. "You're going to kill me."

But his hands were already on my hips again.

And the night wasn't over.

__________

"You taste incredible, Mr. Maddox."

His laugh came out rough, low, a little broken around the edges. "You are a pro at this, Troy. This wasn't in your resume!"

But his hands were already on my hips again, firm, hungry and the look in his eyes was nothing short of ravenous.

And the night wasn't over.

Blake leaned forward, the mattress dipping under his weight, and kissed me again--slow, deep, like he couldn't get enough. His fingers moved to my jaw, then down to my collarbone, trailing across my bare chest with reverence.

Then he whispered it, against the corner of my mouth:

"My turn to taste you."

I froze. A soft sound caught in my throat.

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, Mr. Maddox. I would love that."

He smiled. Not cocky..... just warm. Full of this kind of quiet awe, like I was offering him something sacred.

"If anything feels off, if you want to slow down, you tell me. No hesitation."

"I will," I breathed.

And then he moved. Downward. Slowly. His lips kissed a path down my chest, lingering at the soft center, brushing over each nipple with his tongue. My body arched involuntarily. I gasped when he sucked, gentle but focused, drawing another breathless noise from my mouth. He looked up at me as he did it, eyes dark and steady, like he wanted to watch every reaction.

Then he kept going. Down. Down.

His hands parted my thighs, strong but gentle, and he kissed the inside of one first, then the other, alternating, teasing me, lips soft and dragging. I felt the air on my skin, the tension in my stomach tightening.

By the time his breath ghosted over my cock, I was trembling.

And when his mouth finally wrapped around me--warm, slow, wet--I moaned so loud it echoed in the room. He took me deep, inch by inch, letting his lips stretch, his tongue swirl, his jaw work with practiced, patient hunger. His hand wrapped around the base while he sucked, and he moved like he wanted me to feel every single flick, every drag, every glide.

"Blake," I breathed. "God, Blake..."

He kept going. Drew it out. Built me up until I was panting, twisting the sheets, my hips twitching upward against his hand. I was right there.... so close I could taste it.

But then he slowed. Let me come down. Teased me at the edge.

He pulled off with a wet pop and wiped his mouth, eyes flicking up as he pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh again.

"Look what you do to me," he murmured.

I looked down and yeah.

He was hard again.

Thick, flushed, his cock standing proudly against his abs, bobbing slightly with every breath.

My whole body lit up. He shifted, crawled up my frame until his lips met mine again. I could taste myself on his mouth. I didn't care.

"Can I...?" he whispered. "Troy. Can I please fuck you?"

My stomach clenched. I swallowed, nodding.

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

His lips found my forehead, then my cheek, then my jaw. "Just breathe, baby. I've got you."

He reached for the drawer. The condom. A bottle of lube. He took his time--warmed the lube in his hand before touching me. His fingers were so gentle I nearly cried. He kissed my neck as he worked me open, taking his time, crooning soft praises into my ear as my body adjusted.

"You're perfect," he whispered. "Just like that... There you go."

When I was ready... when I begged, he lined himself up, breath shaky.

Then-

He pushed in. Slowly. Carefully.

I gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. My legs wrapped around him instinctively.

He held still, buried partway inside me, his jaw tight with restraint.

"You're doing so good," he whispered, voice raw. "Breathe. You feel so good."

I nodded, eyes glassy. "More. Please..."

He moved his cock deeper, inch by inch, groaning under his breath when he bottomed out. Then he stilled again, letting me his cock--all of it. All of him inside me.

And then he began to thrust gently.

Rhythmic. Gentle. Deep. Each thrust a wave rolling through my body. He kissed my temple, my lips, my chest, worshipping me with his hands, his mouth, his body.

"God, Troy..." he murmured. "I've wanted this, I've wanted you."

I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Every movement hit that perfect spot inside me, dragging moans from my throat that sounded almost unreal.

It built slowly..... hotter, heavier.

Then faster.

Harder.

He shifted my leg up. Changed the angle.

I moaned, back arching. And he knew.

He chased the spot again and again until I was seeing stars.

He was right there with me, eyes locked on mine, whispering my name like a prayer.

And when we came.... together, it hit like lightning. My whole body shook. His fingers dug into my hips, his forehead pressed to mine.

He pulled out gently, chest heaving.

And with a final groan, he spilled across my ass, hot, thick, wet.

Then he leaned in.

Kissed me.

Cradled me.

And the night settled.

We lay there in the hush, tangled in each other, breath mingling.

He pulled the blanket over us, tucked me in tight against his chest.

"You okay?" he whispered.

I smiled. "Yeah."

He kissed my hair. "Good."

___________________________________________

The Next Morning

I woke up slowly.

The sunlight streamed in through the open balcony doors, casting golden streaks across the sheets. The air was cool, soft. I could hear the city outside--muffled traffic, birdsong somewhere faint.

I turned over, groggy, sore in that good way.

The bed was empty beside me.

But the smell of coffee hit my nose.

I sat up, squinting into the light.

And there he was.

Blake.

Standing on the balcony, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of black trunks, holding a mug of coffee in one hand, his other arm resting on the railing. His hair was a little messy from sleep, falling just perfectly over his forehead, catching the breeze.

He looked like a painting. Like some quiet dream I'd woken into.

I smiled to myself. Pulled the sheet around me and got out of bed.

He turned when I stepped out onto the balcony. His smile was lazy, soft.

"Morning, Troy."

I slid into his arms, pressed my face to his bare chest.

"I can't feel my legs," I murmured.

He chuckled, kissing the top of my head. "I'll take that as a compliment."

We stood there like that.... wrapped in morning light and each other, coffee between us, the city waking up around us.

Whatever this was between us... it was real now.

"You know, I told you we'd be working quite closely together, right?" He eventually broke the silence, smirking.

I laughed softly, lifting my head to look up at him.

"I didn't think this was what you meant," I teased.

His eyes glinted with mischief. "What can I say? I don't make empty promises."

I smiled, leaning in to kiss him once more, soft and lingering. But I pulled away with a smirk.

"I guess we've got some work to do..."

Blake pulled me closer, chuckling as he held me tight. "And we'll do it together, every step of the way."

And just like that, the future was wide open, filled with possibilities.

----------------------------------------