Chapter 65
When he turns around, Tim sits on one of the sofas, one leg crossed over one knee. He’s removed his jacket, which rests folded up across the back of the sofa, but his tie is still snug against his throat, and his cuffs are still buttoned. A relaxed business-man pose.
With a smirk, Bryce asks, “Did I say sit?”
Tim rolls his eyes as he hauls himself to his feet. “You’re being a bit of a pill today, you know that?”
“You’re not listening very well, are you?” Bryce counters. “What happened to yes, sir?”
Tim starts, “You didn’t ask—”
But Bryce cuts him off. “It was rhetorical. You know the rules; you set them up yourself. Another word that isn’tyes or sir and this ends, got that? Don’t make that face at me. Unbuckle your belt.”
Pressing his lips together to keep from saying anything that might put a stop to the proceedings, Tim obeys. He unbuckles his belt, then goes a step further and begins to pull it off.
By this time, Bryce is in another draw, picking through a box of condoms. He likes to keep five or six on him at all times—he doesn’t necessarily use that many, but he never knows if one will break or if they may be up for a second or third round before the conference is over, and the last thing he wants is to stop in the middle of things to get another rubber. When he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, he half-turns and sees Tim, belt in hand, struggling to get it free from one of the loops on his pants.
“Did I tell you to take it off?” Bryce asks softly.
Tim freezes. The correct answer is, of course, no, sir, but Bryce has already said anything other than yeswill end things. But saying yeswould be a lie. It’s a catch-22, and Bryce fights the urge to laugh as he watches the struggle to answer flicker across Tim’s handsome face. Yes, no? In the end, he decides to say nothing at all and drops both hands, leaving his belt to dangle from his waist, longer on the left side than on the right. His pants sag a little from the sudden lack of support.
Half to himself, Bryce mutters, “What am I going to do with you today?”
Again, Tim stays silent.
Bryce pockets the condoms and the lube in his suit jacket, then closes the cabinet door. Returns to the dry bar, tosses back his drink, and lets out a satisfied sigh as he loosens his necktie. He works a finger under the knot and slips it out easily, pulling the skinny end free and tugging the whole thing out from his collar. When he turns to face Tim, the tie is snaked between the fingers of one hand, waiting.
“Since you’re having trouble listening to me today,” Bryce says, closing the distance between them, “here’s what we’re going to do. Hands behind your back.”
Tim opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Bryce cautions, “Ah! The wrong word and this ends. Remember that.”
Those piercing blue eyes turn downcast, hidden by the thick lashes Bryce likes to run his thumb over when they’re cuddling together in bed. But there’s no time for cuddling in the office; Tim has certain needs he wants fulfilled while he’s on the clock, and that was the reason he hired Bryce in the first place. The fact that they ended up falling in love was an added bonus. Who they are at home, outside of work, has little to do with who they are here, now. In their bedroom, there is no dominance, no submissiveness, nothing but love.
Here, though. Here Tim wants someone to keep him from becoming the egotistical corporate megalomaniac he fears he might turn into one day. Someone to ground him into reality. Someone to debase him. To bring him low.
And get him off while doing it.
Get them bothoff.
Again, Bryce says, “Hands behind your back.”
This time, Tim responds, “Yes, sir.” His arms fold around behind him, wrists crossed at the base of his spine. He half-turns when Bryce steps up to him, offering himself like a sacrifice.
Quickly, Bryce secures Tim’s wrists in place with his tie. “I know this isn’t foolproof,” he says, testing the slipknot. “It isn’t meant to keep you from busting loose or anything. I just want you to stop jumping ahead and wait for me to tell you what to do, you hear?”
Tim’s reply is quicker this time, more sure. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Bryce gives the tie one last tug, then leans against Tim’s arm to press his lips against his lover’s cheek. One hand trails down the front of Tim’s shirt, over the buttons, down to the fly of his pants. Deftly Bryce unzips the fly and slips his fingers inside, pushing against the outline of Tim’s cock through the jockstrap his lover wears. Against Tim’s cheek, Bryce murmurs, “Look at me.”
When Tim does as instructed, Bryce closes his mouth over Tim’s in a crushing kiss. His tongue delves between Tim’s lips, demanding, eager. He can play whatever part Tim wants him to, but he can’t deny how much he needs this man, right here, right now.