What the hell is he doing?
Seconds later, another ping sounded, and the text pushed his photo further up the screen.
Matt: So I Googled it and an average stapler is 7 inches long. My dick is totally bigger than this stapler
I laughed, shook my head, and fell in love with him all over again.
Me: Tugging on your foreskin doesn’t count
Matt: Sure it does. It’s attached to my dick isn’t it?
Me: And what if it’s not an average stapler? What if that one’s only 6 inches?
Matt: It’s not. This is a heavy duty stapler. Probably even longer than average.
I considered agreeing purely to placate him. Clearly, he wasn’t prepared to let this go. My hunch was proven when another text arrived, followed by another photo.
Matt: See? It’s even longer than this pen
This time the stapler had disappeared, replaced with a ballpoint pen that was digging so firmly into the flesh surrounding his dick the skin had turned white. The index finger and thumb on his free hand were curled tightly around the base, squeezing as much blood as he could into the shaft. The only thing this exchange had achieved so far was turning me the hell on. I couldn’t care less how big his dick was, all I could think about was wrapping my lips around it.
But I had work to do, and there was only one way to shut him up.
Me: You’re right. That tape was broken. You win
His reply confused me. When I saw the photo loading I’d naturally assumed I was about to see another dick selfie, so why was I staring at a blurry image of Ryder stood in front of the desk with a hand over his face?
Me: Huh?
Matt: That’s Ry’s reaction. He kinda walked in on me measuring my cock against an envelope
I was confident that I felt more embarrassed than Matt would be right now.
Me: Put your dick away and get back to work
Damn I loved the immature, adorable asshole.
A little while later, Ryder and Mason approached the bar which I stood behind. After informing me that my boyfriend had issues, Ryder turned his attention to something else. “Have you seen who’s over there?” he asked, leaning over the bar so I could hear him over the music. He pointed discreetly over his shoulder. “It’s Morgan Charles! Morgan fucking Charles!” He bounced on his tiptoes like an overexcited teenage girl. “He’s like the hottest man on earth.”
“Wow,” Mason said. “Thanks.”
Ryder placed his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Mase, I love you, but I’d drop you faster than a bag of shit on fire for Morgan fucking Charles. Did you see Night of the Storm? That guy is ripped.”
“He’s actually a gigantic asshole,” Matt said in Ryder’s ear, appearing from nowhere. “And he’s a slut. Tapping that ass would be like slinging a hotdog up Rodeo Drive.”
“That’s quite something, coming from you,” Mason joked.
Matt tossed him a death glare. “I’ll introduce you and you can see for yourself.”
“Oh my God I couldn’t,” Ryder spluttered. “No, wait. I could. Holy shit, yes, introduce me.”
Matt snickered. “Gimme a few minutes. I just need to talk to Alex about something first.”
“Sure. Yeah. Good. I need to plan what I’m going to say. Yeah. Okay.”
Laughing as he shook his head at Ryder, Matt joined me behind the bar, taking my hand. He tugged gently, pulling me toward the office.
“What do you need to talk about?” I asked, closing the door behind us.
Pushing me against the wall, he grabbed my face with his hands. “This…” His lips crashed into my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine. His kiss was rough, animalistic.
Struggling to breathe, I angled my head to free my nose. “What’s this for?” I spoke into his mouth.
Resting his forehead on mine, his breath sweeping my face, he whispered, “Just needed to taste you. You look so damn hot in this suit.” He ran his finger under my black lapel. “I’ve been hard all night watching you behind the bar.”
“Oh yeah?” I slipped my hand into the waistband of his pants, grinning proudly as I took his dick between my fingers.
“Lock the door,” he ordered, his voice firm and demanding.
Reaching behind myself, I twisted the lock. Matt attacked my neck with his lips, his fingers insistent as they unfastened my pants and pushed them to my ankles. Too breathless to speak, I let him take the lead. He pushed me toward the desk, the pants around my feet causing me to stumble. I saved myself by reaching back and gripping the desk, knocking a tray of documents to the floor.
He popped open the buttons on my white shirt, kissing and licking the muscles hugging my chest before grabbing my waist and flipping me around until I bent over the desk.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, panting and desperate.
“Fuck I need you,” Matt said, leaning over my back to reach the drawer on the other side. He tweaked a Kaleidoscope branded safe sex pack, the same kind we stocked in the club bathrooms, and ripped open the condom and sachet of lube before positioning himself behind me.