Dean Walsh was happy with his new life, his job, his girlfriend. Until his boss, billionaire Salomon Ellis, discovers his darkest secret. From then on, he will hold Dean hostage to his whims in exchange for his silence.
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His thumb ran over my fly, and before I could think, I took a step back, away from him. He raised his eyebrows again, his lips pursing at the brink of a smile.
"Changed your mind so quickly?" he asked, and he sounded amused.
I still stared at him, now not only in fear, but also in horror.
"Should I call the police?"
His words made their way through my shock and reached my spinning head. I shook it again.
"No, please!"
"Well, then."
He glanced down and back up at me. I glanced down too and saw his hand was still there, like waiting for something to drop on it. A lump crept up my throat. I tried to swallow it in vain as I took the step I'd just retreated, landing my crotch on his palm.
Once more, his thumb brushed my fly, that covered the panicked peanut my cock had become after the last minutes. He met my eyes again.
"Breathe deep, mister Wallace," he said. Even softening his tone, it was a command that left no room to refusal.
So I breathed deep. His hand improved its grip on my crotch, and part of the palm brushed my fly down.
"Go on."
I kept breathing deep, and with every breath, his hand pressed and brushed gently.
"You better relax and play along, because you're not going anywhere until we're done here." Surely my face reflected my feelings, because he flashed a quick smile. "Convince me you don't deserve to leave the building in handcuffs."
His hand found what was supposed to be my cock and focused on it, fondling it in no hurry. Shit. I'd managed to spare myself from becoming some alpha's bitch in prison for two whole years. And here I was, being groped by the CEO. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I closed my eyes, because I didn't want to keep facing his dark eyes and his smug smirk. That, and the deep breathing, ended up adding to his fondling. Somehow, my crotch decided to leave my mind to deal with my fear and my rejection, and appreciate the attention. I would've chopped my cock off when it wagged in his grasp. He didn't made a sound, but started stroking it slowly and firmly. Soon he had me bulging with a mild boner.
"That a boy," he said. "Hump my hand."
Oh, I hated the son of a bitch. I had no idea what he had in mind, but I could only do as he told me. My hips moved an inch forward and an inch back.
"Keep going."
What choice did I have? I kept rubbing my crotch against his hand, that grabbed my cock and stroked it up and down until it was hard. His voice gave me a start.
"Lou, bring my soft bag to room twelve, please." I couldn't keep my eyes closed, and found him with his phone to his ear, his eyes always on me, that little smile on his face. "Yeah, it's in the restroom."
