“Shit, Baby... wait,” Nate groaned, but it was too late. Leila’s soft hand was already wrapped around his cock and her lips, those pretty lips, were only a hairsbreadth away from taking him into her mouth.
She licked the ridge of his crown once and smiled up at him. She was the devil. And his angel.
“Babe- oh fuck, that’s good.” His head tilted back, the long stretch of muscle vibrating with a deep groan.
She moaned around him, sending the vibrations straight to his nuts where they burned and tingled there.
“Oh... fuck, sweetheart,” Nate groaned. “Your mouth...”
She giggled deep in her throat, sending a new sensation across his dick as it hit the back of her throat just as she giggled. It was intense.
All inhibitions fled Nate’s mind and he grabbed a fistful of Leila’s hair, gripping it as her head bobbed and weaved.
As she took him deep, deeper, he felt himself slip past the barrier of her throat where she moaned again, eliciting a hiss from his mouth. He almost sounded pained, but it was actually pure delight.
“Damn, I want to fuck that throat of yours so badly,” Nate told her, his body almost trembling with need. “If I wasn’t at... at work, I’d be slamming my hips into you to feel you at the back of your throat.”
Leila sounded like she liked the sound of that, the moisture from her mouth making a wet sound as she bobbed back and forth on him.
Pulling back up, her tongue slid around his crown again, teeth gently scraping and making the already sensitive flesh firmer against her touch.
“Oh... shit,” Nate mumbled. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He wanted to yell out, but he knew he couldn’t. He could attract attention from the lunch crowd in the break room. Her mouth was pure torture on him. And pure heaven.
Once hand came down on the edge of the desk, white-knuckling it while he tried to tame the needy moans he was emitting. They were infrequent and deep, and so fucking hard to control.
He felt her tongue stroking. Somehow with his fat cock in her mouth, she had found a way to torture him even more and he felt it swish over his shaft from side to side. It caused a delightful transverse friction and he felt he couldn’t have gotten harder if he had tried.
Nate mumbled curses, entreaties, praised the Virgin freaking Mary as he tried not to make enough noise to draw a bloody crowd.
“Shit fuck dammit,” he cursed before he heard the scariest thing he could at that moment.
A fucking knock on his office door.
Fighting off the urge to have a stroke right then and there, he pushed his chair forward so that he was cramming Leila under the desk, his fly unzipped, cock still in her mouth and... Holy Jesus... she was still fucking sucking on him. Christ.
He felt a silent giggle and almost came in her dangerous little mouth before clearing his throat and calling out.
“Come in!” He couldn’t have been louder if he tried.
He ripped open his MacBook and tried to get it back from ‘sleep’ mode as quick as he could while Leila’s tongue tortured him with long steady strokes of her tongue, and deep swallows of his shaft.
“Nate, I heard something as I was walking by,” Carl said, walking into the young CFO’s office like he owned it. “Wanted to make sure you were alright. Sounded like you were swearing.”
Nate blinked, thought up something random on the spot.
“Giants lost last night.” It was all he could think of. He had no idea if it was even true.
Carl blinked back and watched Nate’s peculiar posture as he seemed to shift in his seat. If he hadn’t been the proper son of one of his best friend’s and father in law, he could’ve sworn...
Not Nathan Charles.
“I- uh... didn’t realize you were such a fan,” Carl said. “We sponsor a company game for all the workers on a Saturday every summer. You should get some tickets when we go. It’s usually mid-”
Words were coming out, Nate just knew it. But he couldn’t focus on them any more than he couldn’t not focus on the tongue that was now licking at his balls, sliding over them with skilled precision.
He simply nodded his head and watched as Carl tilted his head, as if-
Fuck... he must’ve asked a question.
“What was that, Carl?” Nate asked, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, must’ve tuned out. I was working on the numbers for Gary’s project. Got a little too hyperfocused on them.”
There. That sounded plausible. There must be some remaining blood flow making it his brain after all.
“I was wondering if you were coming over to Harry and Mattie’s on Saturday,” Carl told him. “Harry mentioned something about a family problem, but he didn’t specify.
“What was that?” Carl said, right before Nate slammed a fist down onto his desk, jarring Leila a bit. The news that Harry wanted some family pow-wow about the she-devil who must not be named must have startled her and she had flinched, causing her head to hit the desk.
“My knee,” Nate coughed out. “Damned desk is a bit low... legs too long. You know how it is.”
“Right,” Carl said, blinking again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Your face seems very red.”
“I’m fine,” Nate said, his molars clamped down on his cheeks. “Just banged my knee. Third time today, damned thing.”
He kicked his foot out at Leila, tried to trap her head between his knees to stop her from... good, sweet Jesus- whatever she was doing now that felt like fucking heaven and made him want to blow his load all over her damned face.
“Well, I’m fine, Carl,” Nate gritted out. “Just the knee thing bothering me here... and the numbers- gotta get to working those and all. Close the door on your way out and I’ll see you this Saturday.”
Take the hint, motherfucker. Take. It.
Carl nodded, his head looking down lower, too low to be looking for anything but feet sticking out of the other side of the desk. If he saw anything, it didn’t show, and he walked over to the door. He peered back once before closing the door, his eyes again drifting down to the floor underneath Nate’s desk.
As soon as the door was closed, he pushed back from the desk. Leila came with him.
“Leila,” he whisper-shouted.
“Oh, please,” she giggled. “It’s Carl. He probably would have congratulated you for getting a mid-day hummer. That or watched. That man has no shame.”
“Get out of here!” He maintained his low tone of voice, looking toward the door like Carl would come bursting through it like some perverted Jack In The Box.
“You’re still hard,” she said, pawing at his erection.
“And you’re fucking naughty,” he retorted.
“I try,” she said, giggling again. His hands went to cover her mouth, but she covered his dick first.
“Fuck, Leila,” he groaned. He was utterly irritated with her and totally turned on at the same time.
She gave him a wickedly innocent look, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked him deep, eyelids fluttering closed as she took him even further.
“Baby, you’re gonna make me come,” he groaned, his head tipping back again, chest rising and falling.
Almost getting caught... the ultimate climax builder.
She continued to deepthroat and moan softly, very aware that Nate’s release was coming. She was wearing work clothes and she didn’t need a Monica Lewinski type fashion faux pas. Nate had mentioned coming on her face, but that still wasn’t an option. Too much of a risk for the aforementioned ML-worthy garment gaffe. She didn’t mind a little spillage around her lips, but she intended that he finish mainly in her mouth.
“Fuck my throat, Nate,” she told him, her voice just above a whisper. “Come down it.”
She took him back in her mouth and he scooted his butt to the edge of the chair. Slowly, he started to do what she asked, fuck her throat.
He watched as her eyes blinked and fluttered up at him, head remaining in place as his hips rocked back and forth into her mouth.
All throughout, her eyes remained on his, dark, hazy green, wide and so fucking perfect he could melt.
And she took every thrust without complaint, not even when his dick twitched and she almost gagged.
Fuck. She was perfect.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned. “Coming.”
It was all he could do before letting out a long, tortured groan.
He felt her swallowing around him, dick stuffed halfway in her mouth, her tongue working quickly to swallow every drop.
When he had emptied himself completely into her, he watched her swallow one more time.
His dick twitched.
And she proceeded to lick him clean before tucking him back into his boxers, zipping up his trousers and planting a swift kiss on his mouth.
She drew back for a moment until Nate pulled her back into his body with a hard, heated kiss.
His tongue pierced the seam of her lips, tasting their combined flavors. Her minty toothpaste and his own more erotic flavor.
Pulling back he looked at her. She smiled. He smiled back.
“My day just got exponentially better,” he told her, planting a slow, soft kiss on her mouth again.
“Glad I could brighten up your day,” she said, mischief twinkling in her eye.
By the time Leila had left the building, not even Lil was any the wiser that she had accomplished what not even ten pots of coffee could that morning.
Carl... he may or may not have had an inkling.
He certainly looked at Nate’s legs carefully enough during the 2:30 meeting with Gary’s group of tech-heads.
He seemed to be thinking that Nate’s legs didn’t look any longer than his, though they had the same style desk in their offices.
At the airport, Conley made an international call home. To Lorelei.
He was fucking livid. He believed Nathan Charles. The man had no reason to lie while Lorelei had every reason to. Conley had thought it a little strange that Lorelei wouldn’t have changed the locks after stating that Nate must have still had a key to her place, but she said she had simply forgotten. If the man had been as mad about her as she had said, so desperate to win her back, she would have changed the locks, purely for safety’s sake.
And why would a man who was practically stalking his girl move thousands of miles away from the woman he supposedly loved?
He knew it hadn’t fucking added up. It had only taken 3 layovers, a shit-ton of money and a fist to some poor bloke’s face to make him see it.
It was fucking ridiculous that he could’ve been had by the pretty little thing. Evil, she was. Pure, unadulterated she-demon material.
“Lora,” he said into the voicemail. Again. She hadn’t picked up since she found out he had left the country. He had left several messages for her upon arrival in the many airports he had stopped in, and all the previous day.
“Lora, I know all about yeh and your two-timing ways,” Conley barked into the phone. “It’s not like yeh can hide behind yer pretty face forever. When I get back, we’re through. Get your shite packed and out of me flat. I don’t want any damned reminders of yeh when I get home.”
He ended the call, shoved the phone into his pocket and picked up the small carry-on he had carried from London Heathrow airport, to O’Hare (a fine name if you asked him), to LAX, to SFO.
Conley’s brogue deepened the angrier he became and he had a bit of a time calming himself as he went through customs. Apparently, ‘aye’ didn’t translate well in southern California. Nor did foyne, but he kinda got that.
The trip would take him hours and he hoped by that time, all trace of Lorelei McCormick would be stricken from his life. That was...
Unless the wee babe turned out to be his after all.
He scoffed at the idea, scaring the little old granny sitting next to him at the gate.
Having gotten little sleep the night before, he pressed his cap down over his eyes to take a light doze before his flight was called.
Traveling abroad sucked big, hairy bollocks.
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