Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Nate lifted his gaze and they looked at each other as Raffaele fucked his mouth. Somehow, it made the act ten times more obscene, making him painfully aware that he was fucking his male assistant’s mouth while his business partners were just a thin wall away. He could hear them talk, fuck. He wondered if they could hear the wet, slurpy sounds Nate’s mouth made, too. Even if they could, he didn’t care. He needed to fuck this mouth, this insolent, disrespectful, infuriating mouth that never shut up. He needed to fuck Nate’s throat raw, so that his voice became so wrecked he couldn’t talk back at him for days.
It took him a humiliatingly short time to come, but he was so worked up it wasn’t surprising. He groaned lowly, keeping Nate’s head still as he fucked his throat the last few times, grinding his cockhead against it as he spilled his jizz down his throat.
Nate moaned, his gaze unfocused. The little shit totally got off on this.
“Thanks,” Raffaele said dryly, tucking his cock back into his pants and fixing his clothes. “Your sacrifice for the company’s good has been noted.”
Nate glared at him. “Fuck you,” he croaked out, his lips still red and puffy and used—
Raffaele averted his eyes and strode toward the door, annoyed with himself.
***
Nate was still scowling as the door shut behind Ferrara.
Asshole.
Fuck, how he hated him.
Nate jerked his fly open and stroked his aching cock, hard and fast, pushing the fingers of his other hand into his mouth. He moaned around them and jacked his cock. He could still taste Ferrara’s come in his mouth, so it didn’t take long.
He spilled into his hand, hating Ferrara and hating himself.
God, he was fucking messed-up in the head.
He had promised. He had promised to himself that he wouldn’t fall into the same rabbit hole, that he’d stay away from his horrible boss’s cock, but the moment he was given the flimsiest excuse to suck it, he’d done just that.
Unbelievable. Pathetic.
Shaking his head, Nate cleaned his hand, fixed his clothes as best as he could, and returned to the conference room.
Satan was seated in his chair, his body language once again relaxed, his gaze hard and razor-sharp as he bored a hole in the Typhoon Enterprises’ executive, who was stammering excuses as he tried—and failed—to convince Ferrara the contract they were offering was good.
Ferrara didn’t even glance at him as Nate took his seat, which only annoyed Nate further, though rationally he was glad of it. The fact that his brain and his emotions were no longer in agreement was pretty damn disturbing.
Why the hell did he want Ferrara’s attention now?
It made no sense.
Scowling, Nate forced himself to look away from his boss and pulled his phone out.
He texted Maya.
So I may have sucked his cock again. What do I do now?
Maya sent him a facepalm emoji.
Yeah. That about summed it up.
Chapter 13
Nate took a deep breath before entering Ferrara’s office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Ferrara lifted his gaze from his computer and simply eyed him for a moment.
“Close the door.”
Nate’s heart jumped into his throat—or at least it felt like it. “I’m not sucking you off again,” he hissed. “Yesterday was a one-time-thing—”
“Close the door.”
Nate closed the door, hating himself for the way his body seemed completely unable not to listen to this man’s commands.
“We’re leaving on a business trip tomorrow.”
Nate blinked. That wasn’t what he’d expected. “What?”
“We have received an excellent offer for a partnership with a European corporation. It’ll open a new market for us in the UK, Switzerland, and Italy if the deal goes through.”
Frowning, Nate studied the grim expression on Satan’s face. “You don’t exactly look happy about it.”
“Ian was the one who normally dealt with that side of the business.” Ferrara’s lips thinned, his unseeing gaze on his computer. “But he can’t leave his family now, so I’ll have to deal with it.”
Nate nodded. He knew his boss preferred managing the video game publishing to everything else the Caldwell Group got involved in. Still, he was surprised by Ferrara’s obvious reluctance—he usually wasn’t one to complain about work, no matter what it entailed.
“What is the problem, exactly?”
“There is no problem.”
Nate rolled his eyes. Sure. “Please. I know you.”
Ferrara raised his eyebrows.
Resisting the urge to stick his tongue out, Nate corrected himself with, “I know you better than ninety-nine percent of people you come in contact with. So please don’t insult my intelligence. This trip clearly bothers you. Why?”
“Even if Ian were available, my presence at the negotiations was requested specifically.”
Okay, that was a little weird. But it still didn’t entirely explain the grim look on Ferrara’s face.
“And?” Nate said.
“The negotiations will take place in Italy.”
Nate was beyond confused. “And that’s a problem why, exactly? Isn’t it your home country? Surely you’ve been to Italy since moving to the US?”