Love In All Colors (BoyxBoy)

VII. Quincy's Two Cents

Malachi Smith

I was sitting in my office- yes, my office- typing up a proposal for the next project my team and I would be tackling as part of the African-American division of the marketing firm. In fact, my division was the most successful out of all the divisions within the company, bringing in the higher end of six figures for the overall revenue for last year. I'm not saying I know how to market shit, but I'm not saying I don't either.

The proof is in my commission checks. And I don't play about my money.

Anyway, I was busy typing away when I was disturbed by a knock on my door. Without looking up, I called, "Come in!"

The door was already open, the person just had to walk in and introduce themselves. However, after I answered the knock, they didn't say anything more. I was tempted to just ignore them, whoever it was and continue focusing on the draft, but I paused and cut my eyes up, and stared over the computer screen.

There he was, the handsome devil himself. Tall, dark skinned, and sexy as hell. His hands was in his black business suit pants pockets, his blazer jacket unbuttoned to reveal his muscular ripples through his white undershirt, this man knew exactly what he was doing. Plus, that bald head and trimmed up beard says he prepared himself to see me today.

"Quincy," I spoke, putting some bite behind his name. His dark eyebrow arched and he smirked at me, "What do you want? I'm busy."

"You didn't respond to my text," his voice always gave me shivers. It was deep and masculine and sultry, making me feel things I probably shouldn't be, "You mad?"

I eyeballed him before returning my attention back to my computer screen, continuing my typing. I responded with a lowly, "Nah. You were busy. I get it."

I heard him walk over closer and sat on my desk, making him impossible to avoid no matter how glued I kept my eyes to the screen. I couldn't help but to peak over the top of the monitor, his baldheaded ass giving me a cheeky smile. I rolled my eyes and spoke to him bluntly.

"Get off my desk."

"Say you're not mad, and I will."

"I'm not mad," I lied, "Now get off my desk."

"Prove it."

I looked at him, then looked at the stapler sitting directly to my right, then back at him. My brown eyes meeting his, "If I were mad, that stapler would've been at your head by now. But it's not. Now get off my damn desk!"

"Ouch, you're a little spicy today, aren't you?," he teased, standing up and walking around the executive desk and standing behind my chair. He placed his giant meaty hands on my shoulders and started squeezing, initiating a massage, "Tell you what. Let's take the rest of the day off, you and me go somewhere and let me give you a massage."

"Quincy, I-"

Our conversation was interrupted by vibrations coming from my phone. I picked it up to reply to whomever it was texting me, but Quincy snatched it from my fingers, walking away with it in his hand. I got up and followed after him, now completely annoyed with his childish ass behavior.

"Give me my phone."

He held it above his head and away from me. Considering he's about a foot taller than me, there was no way in hell I was about to get that shit back from him. I sighed in frustration and sat back in my chair and placed my head in my arms and lain on my desk in defeat.

"Who the fuck is Jesse," I heard his voice ask in a tone I did not like. I jerked up, seeing him now stare at the screen, "And why is he texting you asking about your day?"