through me. Watch me.
I shift forward to trace my hands over him, the ridges and planes. His hand blocks my access to his belt and I lick my lips. His attention goes back to the screen, but he exhales hard enough I can hear it.
I rub him through his pants, slow strokes that make him shift forward in his chair for more friction.
The next time I reach for his belt, he lets me.
I unfasten it with eager hands. The button on his pants is next, then the zipper.
Ben clears his throat and hits a button on his mic. “Yes, let’s discuss that item in more detail.”
His gray boxer briefs are stretched tight, marked by a single wet spot that makes me suck in a breath.
The hand with the cut has stopped stinging, and I rest it on his knee as I wrap my other hand around him through the fabric. I pump him one, twice just to feel his thighs flex, before reaching into his shorts to pull him out.
Cocks are not, aesthetically speaking, the most beautiful sex organ.
Ben’s is.
He’s long and hard, swollen as if he’s trying to escape his own skin. Knowing I made him like this steals my breath.
“Fine,” Ben says in his business voice. “Thank you for elaborating.”
He hits a keystroke again, muting himself. He rests an elbow on the desk, his fist in front of his mouth, a seemingly casual gesture to block his lips from the screen. “You want to taste me so badly you couldn’t wait?”
That rasp, softened by fondness, is for my ears alone.
“Friends don’t let friends suffer through calls sexually frustrated. They might make terrible business decisions.”
He snorts in surprise, the sound making my lips twitch, too.
His fingers thread in my hair, stroking my scalp in a way that feels way too good.
It spurs me on.
I unfasten the bottom button of his shirt, then graze my nails down the silky skin over his taut abs.
He shudders as I wrap my hand around his cock once more, squeezing hard at the base. “Get comfortable.”
“Impossible,” he grinds out. His hand tightens on the armrest.
“If I move forward, will I be in the frame?” I murmur from my knees.
He flexes under my touch, a ghost of a smile on his face as he meets my gaze for a fleeting second. “No. But you’ll be in my fucking dreams."
This is going to be one memorable video call.
My heart hammering a seductive and foreign rhythm against my back, I shift forward to lean my weight on the chair between his spread thighs.
I lick a trail up the underside of his shaft, my tongue darting over the bead of moisture at his tip under his heavy-lidded gaze.
Ben’s rough exhale is everything.
But it’s the look of anticipation on his face that has me unable to resist parting my lips at the end of the next lick to take him into my mouth.
He told me once he liked watching me struggle.
I like watching him struggle too.
When I suck him in as far as he’ll go, every muscle in him tightens at once.
His hips flex in the chair, the hard lines of his abs rippling as I summon everything I’ve ever learned about giving an epic blowjob.
I use each ounce of my attention to detail to memorize what makes him breathe more shallowly, what makes his muscles clench.
I build him up with my hands, my mouth, wanting all of him. Listening to him interact with the call occasionally, his voice dark and shallow.
Suddenly he utters a long, low groan that has me stiffening in alarm.
I hope the walls are soundproof. If not…
He unmutes. “Gentlemen, you’re going to have to excuse me for two minutes. I’ll be right back.”
He slams the lid of his notebook, yanking off the headphones and tossing them on the desk. “I’m gonna come,” he growls. “If you don’t want me to do it in your mouth, this is your first and last warning.”
His hand fists in my hair along with the warning—not to hold me on him, to give me the chance to back off.
I don’t.
I want all of Ben, and it doesn’t stop here.
I meet his gaze as I take him as far back as I can.
He realizes what I’m doing and grips me tighter.
Yes.
It’s rough, rougher than I’m used to, but I’m riding the edge right there with him.
He pulses, coming down my throat in a hot stream that feels endless.
I swallow all of it as if it’s a prize.
In a way, it is—it’s