Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Davis
I stare at the door as it closes.
Maximilian is so… Fuck me.
When I started things with him, it truly was innocent. My days are full of stress and—a weaker man would say anxiety—so I wanted a way to blow off steam. At first, I thought finding a few fucks would help, because it always does, but then I saw him.
All manly, beefy, idiotic him.
This innocence he carries with him is something I didn’t realize I was attracted to.
I liked to hear the sound of his voice—all rumbly and breathy—completely not matching what he looks like.
His dumbness was a reprieve from all the things I do that take too much effort.
I could just sit back and relax, hear him drone on about something, then call it a day.
But he’s just so fucking tempting.
I used to think the way he looked at me was simply in fascination. I was his boss—intimidating and robotic—and his himbo-self couldn’t handle it.
Then he had to go ahead and tell me he was bi-curious.
That was his first mistake.
Because now I’ve latched on. I see him—not in a new light—a different light.
I could ignore my attraction to him at first, but now it’s impossible.
The things I want to do to him are downright devilish.
I have a particular taste when it comes to sexual partners and Maximillian is nowhere near that.
I like my partners to be more dainty—a little bit like Skylar—and confident in what they’re doing.
He’s the exact opposite. He’s a brick wall of a man and can’t make a drink to save his fucking life.
But, fuck me, do I want to rip his pants off, bend him over my desk, and smack his perky ass until it’s raw and red.
I take a deep breath and try to center myself. My cravings have never managed to take over rational thought. I’m composed, regal, and in control. I’m everything I have to be for the man I am.
I wonder what those pouty lips would look like stretched around my cock?
The images assault me before I can stop them. Maximillian on his knees for me, his probably gigantic cock in his hand as he chases his own relief, my own cock halfway down his throat as I treat him like a dirty fucking slut.
My dirty fucking slut.
I palm myself over my pants, tipping my head back and groaning with how good it feels. I want to just unzip myself, whip out my dick, and beat it to the thought of getting into that tight virgin ass.
But I refrain. Patience is something I have in spades. When a plan starts to formulate in my head, I smile.
Because, soon, I’ll get what I want.