Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,53

didn’t get relief soon.

He was just—well, fuck, Reagan was made for sex, and I had to just look at him all day long without being able to do a thing. His body was huge and strong, the kind of body that could fuck me into a mattress. I’d spent a lot of time fantasizing about that, and hopefully it would become a reality soon.

But I had one office fantasy in mind for tonight that I dearly hoped he’d find as sexy as I did.

“It’s been—” he looked at the clock “—fuck me, it’s been eleven hours. That is a long day. But tell me more about this fantasy.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing at his crotch and beginning to rub.

Instead of telling him, I pulled my shirt off and tossed it on the couch then toed off my shoes. “You still have some things to finish up, right?”

His eyes were wide, drinking my body in. My nipples tightened under his gaze and a shiver of delight skittered down my spine.

“I do, but I can put them off—”

“No, no. Don’t do that,” I said. “Just focus on finishing up, okay?”

His eyes narrowed, mouth parted in confusion. So I ignored him and unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them and my boxers off. And then I was naked in Get Ink’d’s office. The air felt like fingers on my skin. This office was Reagan’s domain and I’d dreamed of being in here, naked and servicing him, for so fucking long.

He was still sitting, slack-jawed and pawing at his obvious erection. I shook my head. “You look like you need some help multitasking.”

“I—” He licked his lips. “Yes. I need help.”

“Do you need me to suck your cock while you work? Maybe if I take the edge off, you’ll be able to finish the last of your work faster.”

“Jesus fucking—” He was already past words, and I liked knowing I was the one making him incoherent. After a moment, he seemed to catch on; voice rough, he said, “I think that would help. Come get on your knees under the desk.”

And just like that I was leaking precum, so hard the tip of my cock brushed my stomach. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled to him, feeling his hungry stare as I closed the distance. There’d always been this part of me, the one that recognized Reagan’s strength and his dominance, even when he’d been doing his best not to exert it. And while I wasn’t interested in having a father figure as a boyfriend, I was interested in exploring submission in bed. Letting him smother me with his masculinity, his virility, his authority.

The sheer size of him wasn’t just related to his cock or his height and build—it was the personality of him. He was Reagan. A bear of a man who made my knees go soft and my cock go hard with just a look.

He rolled his chair back so I could move under the desk. It was a perfect fit: just cramped enough that my body was folded in on itself, but with enough room to reach up and undo his jeans. I pulled his monster cock out, salivating at the chance to finally taste him.

God, he was even larger than I’d realized. My cock throbbed between my legs. Hot damn, I needed him to fuck me. If not tonight then soon, or I was going to lose it.

“Now,” I said, letting my breath play along the rigid, velvet-smooth dick in my hand, “go ahead and finish up. I’ll take care of this for you.”

Reagan gripped the edge of the desk so hard the wood groaned. I licked my lips and then drew the tip of my tongue slowly around the head of his cock. The skin was soft against my tongue and his taste—I swirled some more to coax the precum out, licking up each drop. He was salty and good.

Under the desk, his scent surrounded me. It was musky and masculine. I began to drag my tongue up and down his length, feeling the veins and hardness of him. My free hand slipped between to cup his heavy balls, squeezing them until he cursed.

Listening carefully, I went slow, sucking gently, tugging at his balls. Waiting. When I finally heard the tap of fingers on a keyboard, I hummed in happiness. Then I began to really work his cock. It filled my mouth, stretching my lips as I tried to take in as much of