Page 95 of Isaac

The sound of flesh on flesh echoes around us—it seems to fill the room and every inch of me. It's dirty and needy and so fucking hot. His fingers dig into my scalp as he lets out a long, low growl before slamming his hand against the handrest of his office chair in a sharp clap.

"Fuck… don't stop, Hawk," he orders.

My fingers wrapped around my achingly hard, ready-to-spill cock move faster and faster. With each stroke, pleasure grows, building to a crescendo that promises to consume us along with the entire city.

Isaac doesn't hold back anymore—he's unloading into me with ruthless force, plunging into my mouth like his life depends on it. His hips roll in sync with my bobbing head, the tip of his cock brushing the back of my throat, almost triggering the gag reflex.

An invasive presence in me that only enhances this intoxicating experience.

He’s a shuddering mess beneath me, and I know he’s close. I’m close too. I sense we're both rushing to that precipice together.

"Oh fuck, yes," he murmurs. "Fuck, yes…keep going…" And then the words turn into an indecipherable set of garbled words as he climaxes, his cum spilling into my mouth in hot, thick spurts while I shudder uncontrollably from my own orgasm, spilling onto my own hand and onto the floor.

The room spins wildly as I swallow greedily every last drop of him, savoring the taste.

Isaac's labored breathing is the only sound in the room when I surface for air. His every muscle fidgeting in pure ecstasy, voice hoarse.

"You look hot like this," he chokes out, reaching out to brush his thumb over my lower lip. "With my cum on your face. All covered in me..."

"You don’t look too bad yourself," I tell him, capturing his finger between my teeth. "With your dick all empty."

He shuts his eyes and moans quietly, relaxed in the blissful afterglow, his cock soft and resting, and I take it into my hands, giving it a light playful jerk.

In the dimly lit room that smells like forbidden sex laced with guilt, I can make out every line of his expression. There’s no harshness left. Just vulnerability and suddenly he looks his age. He looks young and unbothered and I remember now I’m older and I’m supposed to be the smarter one. Instead, I’m on my knees, worshiping his dick.

And then I imagine how—in another life—he could be someone else. A man I meet at the coffee shop or a bar or strolling along the Strip with his college friends or co-workers.

But here and now, he’s the head of the criminal organization I’m tasked to investigate and ultimately help to bring down and I can’t stop this—I feel dirty. I feel like I’m betraying everythingand everyone in my life I knew before him and then—betraying him and his trust as well.

When he opens his eyes and gazes down at me, the space between us crackles with static like it always does.

"If I can have you kneeling for me for the rest of your life, I would," he murmurs, raking his hand through my hair. "But I also can’t have Jeremy or anyone else find us like this."

I nod, understanding his concern. I can’t allow to be seen with his cock in my mouth either. At the same time, his words send me into a tailspin. I don’t bottom often. I prefer to be in charge. But with him it’s different. It’s like he needs this—he needs to feel in control to be able to enjoy the intimacy and I’ll gladly give it to him. Gladly give him what can help him forget about whatever demons he has, lurking in the shadows of his past.

Isaac reaches out to grab a tissue from the box on the desk. He hands me a bunch first, then plucks some more to wipe the splatters of cum from his own pants while I try to clean up my sticky hand and my jeans.

"Never thought I'd be using these for this purpose." He chuckles lightly, wiping himself off.

I join him in this soft laughter, the absurdity of our situation hitting me full force. The sexual tension in the room dissipates, replaced by a strange sense of intimacy I never expected to find with him.

"Neither did I," I whisper, my voice shaky as I discard the used tissues.

With an unspoken agreement, we decide not to dwell on the potential risk of being caught. Instead, Isaac beckons me closer, and I find myself straddling his lap, our bodies pressed together as if seeking solace in one another.

"Sometimes...sometimes I just want to get away from all this," Isaac murmurs a few moments later, his voice barelyaudible in the silence of the room as his fingers trace tender patterns along my spine. "You ever feel like that?"

"All the time," I confess quietly.

"Where would you go?" he asks, leaning back in the chair and pulling me close so that our chests rise and fall in sync. Another flash of vulnerability in his eyes takes me by surprise, and for a second, I forget where we are entirely.

"I never really thought about it."

"Maybe you should," he says cryptically.

"Maybe I should."

We are quiet for a few heartbeats, just sitting there, embracing.

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