Page 94 of Isaac

"Come here," Isaac commands, his voice is in that low, seductive register I can’t resist. His face remains harsh and unreadable as I approach. I'm drawn in by some sort of irresistible force.

"Anything you need me to do?" I ask carefully.

I have to remind myself he’s the boss and I’m an employee and we are on the brink of war. But every time I do, images of last night wipe everything out and place themselves into my brain.

"Yes," Isaac says simply, his hand reaching out for me as I stand by the desk. He grabs onto my belt and pulls me to him and for a moment we are frozen in time and space again as I end up between his thighs. His palms slide over and around my waist and he presses them against my back, looking up at me through those insanely thick lashes. His eyes are storm-filled and big and spellbinding. And I forget everything when I look at them. "I need you to make me feel better," he finally murmurs.

"Isaac... I—" My words falter, swallowed by the extremity of his gaze which seems almost innocent. In this moment, I realizethat I'm not just playing with fire—I'm already burning. And there’s no going back.

"Please," he whispers. A plea, a command, and a confession all at once.

And that does me in.

Isaac Thoreau begging for something.

My heart clenches, torn between two identities, but my mind is all fog when I drop to my knees in front of him. It's almost instinctual. It's coming from some place within me I had no idea existed. I've never allowed anyone to control me this way before.

Isaac leans forward and down and our lips meet. He tastes like cigarettes and lust. There’s a deep need I feel in his wrenching groan as he grasps the back of my head to hold me in place. I can’t think straight with his hands in my hair, his hands everywhere on me at once. His fingers digging, gripping, tearing at my skin like he needs me as much as I need him.

"I don’t know why you make me feel this way," he mutters raggedly into my cheek when we both come up for air. "I hate it. I hate it so fucking much I want to erase you completely because you keep on distracting me." His clutch on my hair tightens and the needle-like pain shoots through my scalp when he pulls slightly. All my blood is gone south all of a sudden—to my dick—and the only thing on my mind right now is to unravel him. Push him over the edge and then jump right after.

"I hate it too," I whisper back, grabbing his jaw and holding him in place to look him in the eyes again.

The line between agent and lover blurs, and I'm consumed by the heat of this dark, forbidden thing we have going on.

We kiss again. Sloppily. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths just a little bit more. My hands find their way under his shirt, fingers tracing along his skin, over the uneven scars and the smooth portions untouched bywhatever weapons tried to end him in prison. Buttons undone entirely, he’s at my mercy.

"Fucking hell," he moans, flopping back against the chair as I brush my fingers over his nipples.

This heat between us is almost unbearable and my hands tremble when I bring them lower to undo his pants. The mixture of fear, lust, and sick anticipation rages inside me when I slip my hand into his briefs and find his cock. He’s already hard as rock and throbbing. And the thought that he’s hard for me sends a surge of fire through my body.

Isaac's fingers thread through my hair. This time gently.

My mouth waters when I release him from the constraints of his pants and I hesitate only for a split second, wondering if that’s what he wants.

But a single nudge urging me forward tells me I’m reading him correctly.

I lower my head and lick the tip of his cock.

His entire body tenses and he exhales loudly. "Suck it, Hawk," he orders.

I don’t need to be told twice. I’m thirsty for him. My lips tease and suckle at the crown, then take him into my mouth a little more. I can feel the muscles in his thighs tighten and relax under my palm.

His scent, a blend of cigarette smoke and cologne, fills my nose as I burrow closer to him, tilting my head a little so I can take more of him deeper into my throat.

Isaac's hands run through my hair again, gripping harder this time. It's like he knows when to be soft and when to be ruthless. His other hand is resting on my shoulder. He’s spicy and salty with an undercurrent of desire that I'm all too eager to join in on. I suck harder, savoring the heaviness of him against my tongue, the way he fills my mouth completely.

Isaac's response is a loud moan, the sound that drives me mad.

"Fuck, yes! Jesus fucking Christ, Cody…" he hisses between clenched teeth while the chair creaks under his weight.

My own cock is straining against my jeans and I hastily undo the belt and lower the zipper to dip my free hand into my boxers.

"Turns you on, doesn’t it?" Isaac mutters in between his gasps. "My cock in your mouth."

I have no way of confirming this vocally. Instead, I suck him harder. Suck him into a fucking oblivion. Milk his thick, perfect dick dry.

My free hand strokes my own shaft faster, matching the rhythm of his hips thrusting up into my mouth. Our groans meld into each other's as we both lose ourselves in the moment.

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