It was just a cock. Nate had a cock too. He could do it. He could.
The baffled expression on Ferrara’s normally inscrutable face was the best motivation he could possibly have. It gave him the courage to finally pull his boss’s cock out of his pants.
The cock was mostly soft but it quickly hardened as Nate fondled it awkwardly. God, Ferrara really was such a horny son-of-a-bitch.
But fuck, this was the most awkward, strangest thing he had ever done. Nate’s face was warm as he fondled and stroked his boss’s massive erection. God, the way it looked… A red, fat cock straining out of Ferrara’s unzipped fly, a drop of pre-come glistening on the tip… the fact that he could see his own fingers wrapped around that cock… it was all so very surreal and so very real. Part of him couldn’t believe he was really doing it—jacking another man off—jacking Ferrara off—but the other part just wanted to make him come. He wanted his boss to come. He couldn’t deny that holding Ferrara’s hard cock gave him a weird kind of rush. A rush of power. He made Ferrara, a straight man, hard. He was making his asshole of a boss feel good, ruining his plan in the process.
Nate lifted his gaze and found Ferrara’s eyes closed. He was leaned back in his chair, his body language relaxed. Apparently he’d decided to close his eyes and just enjoy the handjob. He was probably imagining that it was a woman’s hand.
The thought was incredibly annoying. No, he wouldn’t let the dickhead forget who was touching his cock.
“Your cock is really big,” Nate said lightly. “I kind of thought you were lying about the condom size, but apparently there’s no justice in the world—”
“Quiet,” Ferrara said, a flicker of irritation crossing his features.
“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin. “It feels so massive in my hand, I can’t imagine women actually liking having this thing stuffed into them.”
A shudder went through Ferrara’s body. “Tighter,” he ordered tersely, opening his eyes. “Hold it tighter. Don’t you know how to jerk off?”
“Figures that you’d criticize even my jerk-off skills,” Nate grumbled, but he did as he was told, squeezing the thick cock in his hand tighter.
Ferrara sighed in annoyance and laid his hand over Nate’s, showing him the rhythm he liked. Nate blushed. There was something about having both of their hands wrapped around Ferrara’s cock that was just… so filthy. So wrong.
They stroked it together, fast and hard, the cock becoming slick with pre-come, the wet sound of flesh against flesh getting obscene in the silence of the room. Then Ferrara hissed slightly, pushing up, thrusting, fucking Nate’s hand, and came. Nate wasn’t sure what it said about him that his first instinct was to catch all the jizz in his hand so that Ferrara’s shirt wasn’t ruined.
Jesus, Ferrara really had him well trained.
The thought was honestly horrifying.
Quashing his unease, Nate looked up into his boss’s dark eyes and said with a smile, “I’m the best damn assistant you’ve ever had. Excuse me, I need to wash my hands now.”
He was still chuckling as he washed his hands in the restroom.
2:0, he thought. Take it.
Chapter 7
Nate hadn’t exactly expected Ferrara’s attitude toward him to soften after Nate had once again won their game of chicken.
He had been right about that. He could practically feel Ferrara’s dark mood with his skin, but Nate was in too good a mood to care. Having the upper hand over the asshole felt so fucking nice.
Of course it was too good to last.
It was the next evening after the handjob incident. Nate was finished with his work for the day and was more than ready to go home and get a good night’s sleep. He only had to tell his boss that he was leaving.
Nate knocked on the door before opening it and sticking his head in. “I’m done. I’m leaving!” He tried to quickly shut the door before Satan could give him another task.
But of course it didn’t work.
“Come inside.”
Groaning inwardly, Nate did as he was told.
“What?” he said sulkily, stepping into the room and shutting the door with maybe more force than necessary. He was tired, dammit. He had been so busy all day. On top of the million usual tasks, he had been in charge of moving their things back to the Caldwell Group HQ now that they wouldn’t be working part-time at Rutledge Enterprises. He was tired. He really was.
When the silence stretched, Nate finally lifted his gaze and scowled when he saw how perfectly put together and full of energy his boss looked. He truly must be the devil, because a mere mortal shouldn’t look that way after the day they’d both had.
Ferrara said nothing for a moment, just eyeing him in obvious distaste. “You look like a mess,” he said at last. “My assistant can’t look like that.”