“Suck me off, James.”
James didn’t hesitate. He leaned forwards, seemingly not even a little bit concerned about wrinkling or dirtying his expensive suit as he unbuckled the belt that was part of Cal’s chauffeur uniform. A gold ring on his finger glinted as his shaking hands manoeuvred the top button and the zipper, and he muttered something under his breath as he hurriedly—but carefully—freed Cal’s hard cock from his trousers.
As soon as James went down on him, Cal was ready to lose his mind. James’s mouth and hands were enthusiastic as ever, but it was the fact that this had worked—from a few commands in the driver’s seat to this—that blew his mind.
“That’s good, James,” he murmured. He put a hand on the back of James’s head, and James shuddered.
James groaned and bobbed his head a little faster over Cal’s cock. God, he was good. And though time was of the essence here, James’s shiny watch ticking unobtrusively on the seat beside them, Cal wasn’t rushing. No hurrying through to get from point A to point Climax.
“Just like that,” he whispered, and James gave him even more, stroking harder with his hand and teasing the head of Cal’s cock with his tongue. The blowjob, the power, the gorgeous man kneeling in front of him—Cal had to grip the headrest behind him to anchor himself.
He blinked his eyes into focus and watched James. Watched his own fingers alternately running through James’s hair and gripping the back of his neck. Watched a shiver visibly run through the man.
Remember, you’re in control, and he needs to know that. Constantly.
Cal swallowed, and somehow managed to speak. “That’s perfect, James.” He ran his fingertips across the back of James’s neck. “Keep doing that, just like that, and I’ll reward you later.”
A moan bordering on a whimper vibrated against Cal’s cock, and he closed his eyes, too close to the edge to even think about speaking, or thinking, or—
Best reward for a sub? His Dom’s pleasure and approval.
“Fuck, yes,” he ground out, and shuddered hard as he came in James’s mouth. He dug his fingers into James’s scalp, gripped the headrest with his other hand, arched off the seat . . . God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d come this hard from a blowjob.
When it became too much, he gently nudged James away. James sat back on his heels, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and met Cal’s eyes.
Breathing hard, Cal tucked himself back in and zipped up his trousers. Then he leaned forwards and touched James’s face. “That was perfect.”
James smiled, and relaxed slightly, as if he’d been waiting for that approval so he could release his breath.
Cal kissed him lightly. Then he sat back. “Get yourself straightened up. You have to be at your meeting soon.”
James blinked. “My . . . oh. Right.” He cleared his throat and tugged at his sleeve. “We should head over there.”
“We should.” Cal handed James back his watch, but before he let it go, said, “You did well. For that, I’m going to fuck you later.”
James’s lips parted. When Cal let go of the watch, James nearly dropped it, fumbling with both hands.
Cal just grinned, buckled his belt, and stepped out of the car.
Thankfully, driving was damn near instinctive now, so he got them both to Threadneedle Street in one piece.
James busied himself with his papers, quickly rearranging the folders in his briefcase. When Cal pulled up and opened the door for him, James seemed reluctant to leave the car. Maybe he was giving his hard-on a chance to come down?
He stood though, and paused, facing Cal. Cal schooled his features, but he couldn’t help a smile tugging at his lips. He’d have to ask Nick how to perfect that poker face, but damn, he liked the heat in James’s gaze. It was almost a challenge—or was it an intense look in a situation that didn’t allow a touch or even very many words?
“When will you need me again, sir?” Well, James might not feel like he could play, but Cal sure could.
James’s eyes widened in surprise. “I need you immediately, Callum, but that’s not an option.”
“Damn,” Cal murmured back. “Actual times?”
“I’ll text you.”
“Very well, sir.”
James rushed towards the entrance, and Cal chuckled. He got in the car again and ran some errands—dry-cleaning, shopping in one of the express shops catering to the office drone population of the financial district. He had lunch with his uncle and aunt, had the air pressure on the tyres checked, and then settled in one of the numerous coffee shops in the city to write. He spent some time on the last few chapters of his sci-fi novel, writing longhand for a couple hours, and then went back and cleaned up last week’s writing.
He was halfway through an incredibly messy scene involving his main characters and a bar brawl that was getting deliciously out of hand when his mobile buzzed.
20 min, please.