Page 24 of A LIttle Christmas: Samm
“Then the answer is no.”
“Sir,” he says, and gets to his feet. This is actually a lot worse than he expected it to be. He might have to quit, after all. How will he see this man every day and not only know he can’t have him but also endure the humiliation of not being wanted?
“Come here, please. There’s an issue with my computer.”
“I can call IT,” he offers, taking a step towards the door.
“No, I can’t wait that long. Comehere, Samuel,” he says, enunciating each word clearly but with a hint of bite to the words. A tone to be obeyed. The sort of tone that makes Samuel hard. A tone that makes him think of proving himself, of needing to give a lot and pay attention to his Daddy, or else be punished harshly.
Samuel’s shoulders drop in resignation, and he goes around his boss’s desk. He has to. It isn’t in him to disobey. He wants a strict Daddy who monitors him closely, has high expectations, but who adores him completely. Kind words and affection from a hard man.
Bryan pushes back from the desk so Samuel can see the screen and use the mouse and keyboard.
“What’s wrong with it?”
His boss grabs his hips and pulls him down so he’s sitting on his lap. “Mr. Demarco!” he gasps, shocked. He tries to stand back up, but an arm wraps around his waist, holding him there firmly.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he rasps, voice low and lips pressed close to Samuel’s ear.
“I don’t know. Back to… work? Or, um, your computer?” His voice is strangely high.
“I don’t think so,” he says, and his free hand slips between Samuel’s legs, slides high up his thigh, and settles in the crease of his groin so his thumb can brush over the fly of Samuel’s wool slacks.
“S-Sir?” He manages, almost stuttering for the first time in his life. But this is too much.
“Your exact words were that I would need to come at you like a wrecking ball if I decided I want you. Have you changed your mind?”
“N-no.”
“Good. I’m glad. I have something for you in my desk. Do you want to open the drawer and see what it is?” The words make him shiver. His boss exhales, and it raises the hair on the back of Samuel’s neck. He can smell his boss’s cologne, his aftershave, maybe his soap. He smells so rich and masculine. So clean and expensive. It’s dizzying, and Samuel is viciously aware of how hard his cock is, that his balls throb from getting hard so fast. And he feels slow and stupid with lust.
“Okay.” He tries to lean forward, but Mr. Demarco’s hand grips his balls in his hand and squeezes until he whimpers and goes still. He leans back against his Sir, turns his head, and rubs the tip of his nose against the man’s jaw. “Hurts,” he whispers, barely managing to keep the word Daddy from slipping out.
“Then you better not even think of going to a man named Ballbuster.”
“I won’t,” he manages.
“No, you won’t,” he says, and strokes his fingers softly over Samuel’s hard cock. Samuel moans and rocks up into his boss’s hand. “Now then, don’t you think you should be more polite and grateful when Daddy offers you a present?”
“Daddy?” He repeats. “Are you… sure? Are you doing this for you or because I want it?” He tries to look over his shoulder, but has to lean forward to do so, and that presses his boss’s cock between his cheeks. He’s big and hard beneath Samuel, and it’s a revelation to know that he’s actually wanted by this man.
He grunts at the pressure. “I promise you that I wouldn’t even consider doing any of this if I didn’t want it. Want you. I haven’t slept in days. I’ve never needed to come so much in my life. I want to ruin you, Samuel. Keep you and have you all the time.”
“Yes.” His brain is filled with static and it’s hard to think.
“Congratulations, Sammy. You now have a Daddy. I hope that’s what you wanted because that’s where we are. I can’t imagine going back.”
“That’s what I wanted.” He half turns, needing to be kissed. The kiss is aggressive from the start, Samuel relenting instantly, letting his mouth open as his boss’s tongue is pressed into his mouth. He’s kissed roughly, his bottom lip is bitten, and then one leg is pushed open, and his balls are being fondled again through his pants.
“Open them. Show me what’s mine?” It’s barely a question, mostly an order.
“Yes, Daddy. Anything,” he breathes and struggles to open his own pants, fingers clumsy with desire. The button gives, the zipper is down, and then his hands are shoved out of the way, and Mr. Demarco’s hand worms inside, gripping his balls and then the shaft of his cock. The head gets squeezed through the material, and then he rakes his nails up Samuel’s shaft, the sensation sharp and shivery through the thin material of his briefs.
Samuel hisses in pleasure, head rolling side to side at the perfect touch. He doesn’t want softness. Carelessly rough is howhe’d described it in the email. “Yes, oh god,” he gasps, gripping the arms of the chair tightly.
He presses a hard, open-mouthed kiss to Samuel’s throat and then nips him.
“Oh, fuck. Hurt me, Daddy,” he whispers. His nipple is pinched hard through his shirt. And then his Daddy growls at him and shoves his hand through the gap between the buttons, and one of them pops open. He grinds down against his Daddy’s cock, imagines the man ripping his shirt off in his haste to have Samuel naked.
