Page 9 of Havoc and Humor
I needed to return the favor like a good boy would, but my eyes were already drifting closed. “Come on me, Mark. Please.”
The events of the day caught up to me, I was barely awake now, but I kept my eyes open long enough to watch Mark as hekneeled on the bed, his cock hard and leaking. He pumped his shaft over my stomach, and after a few quick jerks, his release spilled out and covered my abs.
I let out a contented sigh and closed my eyes.
Then Mark’s lips were ghosting over mine. “Rest now, Sawyer. I’ll clean you up.”
Chapter 5
Mark
I was a coward. I knew it, and as soon as Sawyer woke up, he would know it too. Given that I had been in my office sipping coffee for over two hours now, not getting any work done, it was likely that Sawyer already knew that I had taken the coward’s way out—getting up early, slipping from my bed, and going to work.
Was he going to be late? Probably, given that he had to somehow manage to get a hold of a suit and get to work. Plus, when I had left him, he seemed so comfortable, surrounded by the plushcomforter. My comforter. The one I picked out when I bought the place. I’d never had so much trouble leaving my bed, but I had to get away and clear my head. Maybe have it examined for signs of insanity.
Last night had been incredibly wonderful. I knew any night with Sawyer would be explosive, but seeing how well we fit together rocked my world. I knew Sawyer appreciated praise. Seeing how those same blushes came out in the bedroom when I showered him with praise would be my undoing. There was no way I’d ever be able to ignore that knowledge.
But fuck, it could not happen again. Especially since it was a rebound for Sawyer. But it was so much more to me.
My phone pinged. It had to be Sawyer letting me know he’d be late. I’d tell him it was fine. Everything was so awkward now. We had crossed that line, and there was no going back. He would probably try to persuade me otherwise, but this made my decision to transfer departments so much easier.
Sawyer’s job was safe. I would make sure of that. And I would move someplace else, leaving all of the joy in my life behind.
That was rather dramatic, but at the moment, it felt accurate.
I picked up my phone, expecting to find some excuse about being late. Instead, there was a string of text messages, one right after another.
I forgot what day it was.
I swear, Mark, if I had realized what day it was, I would have canceled.
Shit. I’m trying to get there as fast as I can to intercept them. Please forgive me.
Intercept who? What? What day was it?
I flipped open my laptop. How pathetic was it that I was sitting here for two hours and never even opened my laptop to begin actual work? Instead, I had been letting my thoughts of Sawyer run through my mind the entire morning, sulking over what I could never have.
I checked my calendar and there was nothing out of the ordinary. Then I pulled up Sawyer’s, and bright red, an all-day event:Sawyer’s two-year anniversary.
I groaned and put my head in my hands. Two years Sawyer had been working for me. For most of my employees, we didn’t celebrate this kind of thing. But a year ago, Sawyer had acted all put out that I hadn’t remembered that it had been a year since we started working together. He made a whole deal of it and promised that on year two, he would celebrate his own anniversary.
Obviously, he had something up his sleeve, and I would just have to endure.
“Oh, thank God they’re not here yet.” Sawyer burst into my office, his tie askew, his shirt untucked.
“Where did you get a suit?” I hadn’t expected that to be the first question out of my mouth when I saw him this morning. Really, I would have liked to just laze in bed all day with him and wake him up with a “good morning, beautiful,” but I supposed “Where did you get a suit” would work.
“I had one in my locker at the gym. Thank fuck.”
“Who are you worried about being here?”
He ran his hands through his hair which was usually nicely styled, and today he looked more like a young college kid rather than my trusted employee. I didn’t hate the look. “I might have scheduled a telegram.”
“A what now?”
“You know, those performers that can come and they’ll sing to you? They do costumes and other random stuff.”
I groaned.
