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Mr. Fairchild’s hips bucked involuntarily, a choked sound tearing from his throat. "Christ, Theodore—" His fingers tightened in my hair, trembling just a bit as if he was shocked to realize that his seemingly innocent Personal Assistant could even do this. "You... you have no gag reflex."
I pulled back slowly, lips dragging along his length, tongue pressing flat against him until he slipped free with a wet pop. I looked up at him, my lips swollen and shiny, feeling inexplicably proud.
"Perks of extensive... field research," I said breathlessly. "Don’t worry, sir. I’m a great multitasker."
His eyes were wide, pupils swallowing the gray, and the hand in my hair slid down to cup my jaw almost reverently.
"Show me again," he commanded, voice rough with a mix of wonder and want.
So I did.
I took him back in, deeper this time, finding a slow, steady rhythm...sinking down until my throat fluttered around him, then pulling back until just the head rested on my tongue, swirling and sucking before diving back down. I varied the pressure, humming low in my throat on every downstroke because I knew the vibration would drive him crazy.
My free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, thumb tracing the seam, and every time I felt them tighten I slowed just enough to keep him teetering on the edge.
I hardly did this for my flings, but for him...I’d do anything.
Mr. Fairchild was beautifully unraveling. His breaths came in harsh pants, chest heaving under his half-unbuttoned shirt, and the sounds he made...low groans, sharp inhales, the occasional muttered curse, were the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. His fingers stayed tangled in my hair, not guiding but grounding himself, like if he let go he might just float away.
I could feel my own arousal soaking through everything, slick and desperate, but this? This was about him. Watching the unflappable Xavier Fairchild lose every last shred of composure because of my mouth.
Memorizing how his thighs tensed under my forearms, how his abs clenched every time I swallowed around him, the way his voice cracked when he whispered my name like a prayer.
"Theodore," he rasped, head falling back again as I took him particularly deep and held there, throat working around him. "I’m—close—"
I hummed my approval, doubling my efforts, faster, wetter, messier—determined to push him right over the edge. My jaw ached in the best way, eyes watering just a little, but I didn’t care. I wanted to feel him completely fall apart.
And when he finally did...hips stuttering, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as he spilled hot and thick down my throat, I swallowed every drop, milking him gently through it until he shuddered and went limp against the cushions.
I pulled off slowly, pressing soft kisses along his softening length, then rested my cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with a satisfied, probably smug grin.
Mr. Fairchild stared down at me, chest still heaving, hair actually mussed for the first time in recorded history, looking thoroughly debauched and completely stunned.
"Lesson one," I said, my voice hoarse and triumphant, "complete."
Mr. Fairchild slouched back into the sofa, breathless, like he’d just sprinted a marathon in a suit. His eyes were half-closed and unfocused in a way that was so uncharacteristic of him that I almost had to pinch myself to check if I was dreaming...maybe from too many peach shots.
His hair, which was always perfectly in place, was now tousled, falling across his forehead, and his lips were all swollen and red from my earlier kisses. He looked completely wrecked, almost human, and I had to bite my cheek to stifle a laugh of giddy triumph.
Thank you, universe. Seriously, thank you for letting me witness the usually ice-cold Xavier Fairchild reduced to a panting, flustered mess because of little ol’ me.
I couldn’t stay on my knees any longer. The urge to be closer and taste that undone look on his face was too strong. So I crawled up his body like a cat discovering the comfiest lap, swinging a leg over until I was straddling him properly, settling my weight right where I knew it would drive him wild.
His hands shot up to grip my hips, fingers digging in through my clothes, while I cradled his handsome, flushed face in my hands, my thumbs brushing those sharp cheekbones.
Then I kissed him.
Not just a friendly peck, nope...this was full-on, passionate French-kiss territory from the moment our lips met. I tilted his head and slipped my tongue in, forcing him to taste himself.
He groaned into my mouth, low and surprised, and then he kissed me back like a man who had been starving for years and just stumbled upon a feast.
Our tongues tangled, sliding against each other in a messy, hungry battle for dominance. I started off teasing, flicking, coaxing, but Mr. Fairchild wasn’t the type to stay passive for long. He pushed back, firm and demanding, sweeping into my mouth with deliberate strokes that made my toes curl.
I tried to take control again, sucking gently on his tongue, nipping at his lower lip just to hear that sharp intake of breath, but he responded by angling his head and deepening the kiss, pulling me under like I was drowning.
It was hot and wet, a little messy in the best way—teeth clicked together in our enthusiasm, breaths mingled in desperate pants between kisses, and every time one of us tried to take the lead, the other pushed back harder, turning it into this delicious, breathless game neither of us wanted to end.
I couldn’t help the shameless roll of my hips, grinding against the pressure I could feel stirring beneath me. My underwear was soaked now, the friction maddening, and I moaned loudly and without restraint right into his mouth—embarrassingly needy, but I didn’t care.
His hands tightened possessively on my hips, guiding the movement until we found a rhythm that had me seeing stars behind my closed eyelids.
I pulled back just enough to gasp for air, our foreheads pressed together, both of us panting. My hand snaked down between us, finding his cock, still slick from my mouth and I wrapped my fingers around him again, stroking slow and firm until he filled my grip completely.
"Time for lesson two, my dear student," I whispered against his lips, my voice low and teasing, even as my own arousal made me tremble. "Unless you need a moment to recover, sir? I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you on your first night."
Mr. Fairchild’s eyes darkened, one hand sliding up my back to gently fist in my hair and tug my head back just enough to expose my throat.
"Overwhelm me?" he growled, the sound sending a thrill through my body. "I think you’ll discover I’m a rather quick learner, Theodore."
I shivered, grinning like an idiot as heat pooled low and urgent in my belly.
"Then pay attention, sir," I said breathlessly. "Because class is definitely in session."