Chapter 6 #2
“Magnus, I want this.” I reach for him, placing my hand against his cock.
“You.” The words scrape out of me, shaky but certain.
I drag his pants down to his ankles, my palms gliding over his legs.
The fur is softer than I thought it would be, but what makes my breath hitch are the muscles beneath—thick, carved, alive.
He feels like raw power barely leashed, and I can’t help but touch him like I’m worshipping, like every inch is something I’ve been dying to discover.
“Sit.” I nod toward the chair behind him, and without a word, he’s down.
I take his shaft in my hands. It takes both to grasp it properly, and I simply hold it for a minute to acclimate. His cock, thick and hot, pulses against my palms. Sure, it’s massive, but it’s also a work of fucking art.
“Your dick is… beautiful.” I stroke gently at first, pulling his foreskin back, revealing the flushed tip and licking my lips at the bead of precum.
“You’re leaking already.”
He nods sheepishly, and I stick my tongue out, begging for it. Magnus slaps the head against it, and my mouth comes alive at the sensation. He’s musky as fuck, and I want more.
“Jamie, take it slow. And you don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. And stop anytime.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “Do you hear me?”
I nod and mumble something, but I’m under a spell. I’ve been dickmatized by his humongous cock.
With both hands, I work him, his gaze never leaving mine, and once I’m accustomed to the size, I’m able to use one hand to play with his balls, which apparently does something to him, because he shifts in the chair with a low groan.
“Fuck, Torres… you don’t know how good that feels.”
“Yeah? Does it?”
“So good.”
I swallow hard, my mouth aching with need. “I want to… suck you. So badly. But I don’t know if I can…”
Magnus’s hand cups my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “Then we go slow,” he says softly. “And if it’s too much, you stop. No questions, no pressure. Just you and me, okay?”
I nod and remove my glasses, setting them on his desk. “Don’t really need these to see this.” Truthfully, I probably should leave them on for protection.
He chuckles, and his dick twitches as his body shakes in the chair.
“Put your tongue out for me.”
My mouth opens wide, tongue stretched out like I’m offering myself up for inspection. Magnus doesn’t laugh or even react. He just drags the head of his cock across it, leaving a streak of precum behind. The taste makes me shiver—sweet, salty, earthy—and I’m instantly starving for more.
That’s all I need. I take him in, opening my mouth like a damn pelican, and swallow as much of him as I can.
Which, it turns out, isn’t much—maybe a quarter of the entire thing.
But when he brushes his strong fingers through my hair again, I fall under some trance, relax the back of my throat, and damn it if I don’t get almost half down my gullet.
“There you go,” he coos, running his thumb over my eyelashes. “You’re taking my cock like a champ.”
My dick aches against the fabric of my khakis and, feeling brazen, I continue to suck and swallow while moving my hands to my pants to free it. Magnus, maybe sensing what I’m after, slides the chair back, his cock pulling out of my mouth with a loud pop.
“Let me do it, Jamie.” He holds his hands out. “Please.”
Reaching under my arms, Magnus lifts me to stand between his legs, and my entire body hums at the intersection of complete brute strength and tenderness he’s showing.
“Now, let’s get these silly pants off you.” He fumbles with the button—hell, it’s tricky even for me.
“Here, let me.” I undo it, slide the zipper down, then pull my hands back, giving him the space to take over.
Unlike him, my thighs pose no obstacle, and Magnus pushes my pants down in one fell swoop.
“A jockstrap?” He swallows hard. “Are you trying to make me blow my load on the spot?”
“Hopefully not.”
I could pretend it’s just what I randomly grabbed from my underwear drawer, but the truth is, I secretly hoped he’d see it. Wanted to feel his eyes on me, to know he was looking and liking what he saw. That this was all for him.
Magnus slips a finger under the waistband and eases it down.
The pouch catches, then settles under my balls, leaving the straps tight across my hips as my cock springs free into his hand.
Now listen, I’ve never, ever been self-conscious about the size of my package.
The guys I’ve been with have always seemed satisfied. But I’ve got nothing on Magnus.
“Sorry, it’s not…”
He shakes his head, those beautiful horns catching my gaze. “It’s perfect.” He runs his free palm over it, sandwiching it between his hands. The fur creates a new sensation like nothing I’ve experienced. “It fits you perfectly.”
Heat floods my skin—not just from standing half-naked in the CEO’s office.
My dress shirt suddenly feels like a barrier, so I rip it off, yank the jockstrap and my pants down, free them from around my ankles, and toss everything to the floor.
I want nothing between us. I want to feel him on every spot of skin.
Taking my cue, Magnus leans forward and peels off his shirt.
The buttons seem to sigh in relief as they pop free, and I glimpse the fur on his chest—slightly longer, soft but strong, like it’s daring my hands to get lost in it.
Below, his stomach is all muscle under a dusting of fur, ridges tight as if carved into him.
Every line looks like it was put there to test my restraint.
Before he even drops the shirt onto the growing pile on the floor, my hands are there, tracing, exploring, memorizing the way his body feels under my fingers. He shivers under my touch, and my chest tightens at the low, unguarded moan he makes.
“Do you like this?” I scratch a little, my thumbs running over his nipples, buried deep under his fur.
“Um, yeah.”
His ears twitch in the cutest way, and he laughs again, but then his arms are around my waist. “C’mere, Torres.”
With one quick motion, he pulls me onto his lap, and our lips meet in a fierce, tangled kiss.
My bare chest presses against his broad torso as his enormous cock pushes against my ass.
My mind races—and, yeah, it’s a little ridiculous how much I want to be closer, to feel every inch of him, get lost in every hair—I can’t stop grinning.
“Magnus,” I say, pausing the kiss, and resting my head against his chin. “I want you to fuck me. Like, really want that. But I’m gonna have to work up to it.”
“Jamie, I told you. There’s no rush. We can do that another time.”
Another time. My shoulders drop, and I cuddle into him.
Magnus reaches down and cups my ass with his powerful hands. “How about we start with you letting me get a taste of this?”
The thought of his considerable tongue on my body makes my cock pulse, which apparently he feels, because leaving one hand on my butt, the other moves to it, and he runs his thick thumb over the tip.
“I’d like that.” I glance around the office. “Um, but how did you want to…”
“Can I be honest?” He bites his lower lip, and my heart just about melts. “Folks always have fantasies about me. But I have one of my own…”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah?” I swallow hard. “What is it?”
“I’ve always dreamt of bending someone over my desk.”
He closes his eyes and pulls his lips in.
“Oh, Mr. Trainor,” I tease, throwing in a southern accent for fun. “You want to have your way with me here? Right in the office with the shades wide open for all of Crownpoint to see? I’m going to have to call br immediately.”
Magnus smiles—a big, toothy grin that makes my stomach do a full somersault.
I scramble off his lap, shoving binders and papers out of the way like a panicked office ninja.
I bend over his desk to straighten things, trying not to make a mess, but wow—my heart is hammering, my ears are warm, and I’m pretty sure I’m radiating panic-fluster energy.
And then I hear it—the wheels of his chair rolling into position behind me. I straighten up, hands bracing on the desk, my ass eager for contact. My body hums with anticipation, and I can barely breathe. One thing is certain: nothing in the mailroom—or anywhere—has ever felt like this.