Chapter Three
Jackson
I watch, intrigued, as Sebastian comes to sit on my desk. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sebastian smirks. “It seems we might have been thinking along similar lines,” he answers. He glances down at my cock in hand, before giving me a devious smile.
I relax back in my chair. “It occurred to me this evening that not only do I find you irritating as fuck, but also hot as fuck,” I say. “All these years I’ve been wanting to knock your stupid pretty lights out, and now, well…” I gesture at the screen with my eyes. “Now, I just want to fuck your ass until you cry.”
“You talk a big game, Jack,” says Sebastian casually, hooking his cane onto the desk beside him. “But how about I put your cock where my mouth is?”
Using my boots, I push myself back in the chair, providing more space. “Well, there you go, sunshine. Have at it.” I gesture, goading him.
The owner of The Red Bastille removes his jacket and drapes it over my monitor, covering the screen. “You’re not going to need that when you’ve got the real thing,” he says, sinking to his knees between my legs. “Damn,” he says for the second time since entering my office. “A Prince Albert. Nice.”
I remove my hand from my cock and recline further, putting both arms behind my head with the cockiness of a king on his throne.
Sebastian takes my cock reverently in his pale, colorful inked hands.
“Nice manicure,” I retort, admiring the contrast of his black painted nails against my skin.
My rival simply looks up at me with those jet-black eyes and my cock twitches in his grasp in response.
In the next instant his hot tongue swirls around my head, flicking my Prince Albert on his way around. I bite off the urge to moan as he trails his tongue up either side of my eight inches, lubricating my cock with his saliva, before taking me straight to the back of his throat—and beyond—like a seasoned fucking pro.
“Fuck,” I moan, unable to help myself as he takes me all the way. Licking my lips, I lower my arms to trail my fingers through his glossy locks. “Oh, Sebastian,” I growl. “Where did you learn to suck cock so good? Fag college?” I feel teeth graze my length in warning.
Sebastian smirks as he comes up for air, working my cock with his left hand, his gaze unwavering. “And where did you learn to give compliments?” he asks. “Asshole school?”
I tighten my grip on his hair and pull his head back, but he stubbornly refuses to break eye contact. “Get back to work, bitch,” I command, before forcing his head down again. With both fists entangled in his black locks I have complete control. The power is titillating. Shoving him down, then reefing him back up, I force him to deep-throat me whether he wants to or not. My sac tightens and my ass puckers at the fucking vacuum this bastard is achieving even as I roughly manipulate him like he’s nothing more than a useless, dirty fuck-sock.
I moan and Sebastian relaxes then tightens his throat in response, undulating his muscles to clutch at my thick, pierced cock. This bitch is a fucking expert cocksucker. And I’m almost jealous thinking of the lucky fuckers who’ve had the divine pleasure of experiencing this before me. Who am I kidding? I am jealous. I’ve had a few amazing blowjobs over the years from a handful of particularly gifted women who take to cock like air, but getting down with a gorgeous Emo cunt who is clearly a natural and talented Switch? I’ve fucking hit a gold mine!
I close my eyes, head back, as I pump the poor fucker, thrusting in the chair as I force his lips to the base of my cock. “Oh God, you fucker.” I snarl. “I’m going to come.”
In the blink of a damn eye Sebastian takes back control. Prying my fingers from his hair—his strength surprises me and turns me on—to take back his own rhythm. He slows it down, returning to long, languid, deep strokes, before sucking hard on my oversensitive cockhead.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
He holds me momentarily hostage, his long, pale fingers wrapped firmly around my wrists, pinning them to the chair as he works at his own leisure. His confidence and defiance are everything.
I’ve been with just a couple of men, and they’ve always been submissive. They’ve had their fire and their attitude, it’s true. A good sub knows how to play and act out for the purpose of achieving punishment and pleasure … but this is something else. It’s like dancing with an equal. And it’s abundantly clear that Sebastian Crenshaw knows this dance like the back of his hand.
“Sweet fucking Christ!” My entire body tenses, and I arch my back in my executive chair, causing it to creak with the shift of my weight. My orgasm builds like a wave at my core, gaining wicked speed and momentum until it threatens to crest, and I can’t hold back any longer. “Sebastian!” His name slips like a prayer from my lips, and I grit my teeth as he stays deep, forcing me to spasm in his throat as my deluge of cum erupts hot and fast. Shit!
Without missing a beat, he undulates his throat again, ramping up my release from a toe-curling orgasm to the utmost ecstasy.
“Fu—” I can’t even finish the word. I make fists against the leather cushion, clenching them hard as the last of me spurts down his warm throat. When it’s over, I slowly allow myself to relax. Still breathing heavily, I look down at Sebastian in blind appreciation and lust. And as he painstakingly cleans my cock with his tongue, his gaze reaches mine and I’m lost in those bottomless pools of darkness and their cocky allure.
One way or another, I’m going to find a way to make this happen much, much more often. And I don’t give two shits who knows about us, either. But for this delicious moment, I’m going to pretend like it’s our dirty little secret.