“Minerva and Sheldon call you Robin. They don’t act like you boss them around and avoid the hard work.” He tugged lightly on my tie. “This suit was for me today, wasn’t it? Because you wanted to imagine me taking you out of this jacket, those slacks.”
“No.”Maybe?His closeness felt overwhelming, the air in the workshop heavy with possibilities. My dick strained against my zipper. That little knowing smile on Alaric’s face needed to be wiped clean, to be replaced by my cock in his mouth.
This is a terrible idea.But as Alaric grabbed the edge of the worktop on either side of me, caging me with his arms and looming over me, all I knew was a deep desire to put this man in his place. Which was under me, or on his knees. No time for the first one, but the other…
I boosted myself to sit on the bench top, set my hands on Alaric’s shoulders and pushed downward. “Suck me, then.”
He jolted and his gaze leaped up to mine.
Yes, I have the height now, and the power. Not from rank or size, but from my will. You’re going to recognize that.I let my voice go sharp. “You’re in my private space, uninvited.” Something about that nagged at me, but with the heat of Alaric’s hips clamped between my knees, it wasn’t important. “I’m your boss, but if you obey me now, it has nothing to do with the storeor your job.” I gestured. “The door is there. You can leave. Or put your money where your mouth is, take down my suit pants, and suck me. Your mouth on my dick.”
For almost a minute, we stared at each other. He had to tip his chin up so he could meet my eyes, a position no doubt unfamiliar to someone with his height and his ego. He frowned, his heavy brows drawn together.
No doubt he’d imagined putting me on my knees like some random twink he picked up.You’re going to learn just how wrong you were.
I held his gaze, watching his breath quicken and his pulse flutter in his neck, there below his perfect angle of jaw. Slowly, the black of his pupils eclipsed the russet of his irises. He threw one glance over his shoulder at the closed door, then reached for the top button of my jacket.
“Good.” I didn’t lift my hands from his shoulders, didn’t shift my arms to make undressing me easier.
He fumbled the lowest button, his hands inches from my straining dick. I glanced down his body to make sure he was really into this, and was reassured by the tight stretch of his jeans across his obvious erection. When he spread my jacket open, I deigned to scoot my ass forward a little for access. “Now the belt. Slowly.”
The sound of the leather slipping through the loops filled the still air. I hadn’t told him to pull it all the way off, but I didn’t hate seeing my belt sliding through his hands. Before he could set the thing aside, I grabbed the loose end with one hand and wrapped the strap around his wrists. Just for an instant, an intake of breath, one more jolt of his body under my touch. Before he could speak, I reversed the wrap and pulled the belt from his grasp, setting it aside. His cock still tented his jeans. I told him, “My button. Zip.”
His fingers trembled as he followed orders. That surprised me. Excited me. Watching his strong hands lower my zipper and spread my fly had me leaking against the blue cotton of my briefs.
“Pull everything down. Slowly.” I braced my hands on the thick wooden slab under me and lifted the bare minimum. His knuckles brushed my stomach as he tugged on my waistband. I let him get the fabric of my underwear and slacks bunched at my thighs, then said, “Enough. Now your mouth. Hands behind your back.”
Alaric shot me a glare, shock and disapproval, but behind those, unmistakable heat kept his pupils wide and his neck flushed. I sat still, breathing through my nose in a slow, controlled rhythm, waiting for his next move. After a moment on the brink, Alaric put his hands behind him and bent forward, opening his mouth.
He didn’t mess around licking or nibbling, just lowered his head, slow and steady, and sucked me to the back of his throat. Then sucked back up off me the same way, letting my dick slide from his lips with a pop. He looked and felt as good as I’d imagined. I leaned back on my hands, my shoulders against the rack of hammers and screwdrivers, for a better view. A niggling worry for what that was doing to my jacket couldn’t penetrate the haze of lust rising in me. “Again. Faster.”
Those full lips slid up and down my length. Alaric’s hair fell into his eyes as he bobbed. Then he coughed and pulled off. “Sorry. It’s an awkward position.”
I sat up. “I don’t mind getting down from the bench, if you’re ready to go to your knees.”
He straightened, rubbing his spine, then reached toward my dick.
I snapped, “Hands behind your back. Or can’t you manage that? On your knees.”
Alaric jerked his chin up and stared at me. I froze, not moving a muscle, pinning his gaze with mine.
Chapter 2
Alaric
Robin— damned if I was going to think of him as Mr. Forrest in my own head— sat on the workbench, his pants around his thighs, his surprisingly thick cock erect and glistening with my spit. His eyes were a pure blue that should’ve seemed innocent in his youthful face, but somehow… didn’t.
He’d told me to kneel. Now he waited in carven stillness to see if I’d obey orders. With my hands behind me, no less.
Part of me rebelled at that idea. Most of me. I usually topped and I never knelt. But some unfamiliar element deep in my gut, or maybe my groin, vibrated like a tuning fork hit with exactly the right note.
I can. This time. Just once. To protect my secrets.
After all, the whole reason I’d seduced Robin was to keep him from seeing the runes I’d chalked on the front of that damned cabinet. There was something very unwholesome about that piece of furniture. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had time for anyspecific tests before I’d heard his footsteps coming my way. I’d barely managed to jump back from the cabinet and meet him in the doorway, to head him off before he saw white chalk on black wood.
Robin had laughed about the sorcerer who’d owned that piece, called magic “smoke and mirrors.” Which was fine, ideal even— the Great Spell was designed to make ordinary humans believe that we sorcerers were a joke, feeble and useless, party entertainment, good for maybe laying Aunt Lucy’s ghost if she started throwing potholders around the kitchen. We were safer when humans didn’t see the huge underwater part of the sorcery iceberg. The Upheavals of the nineties had shown how dangerous life became if humans grew afraid of us.
Odds were, Robin would laugh off my magical attempt to get that cabinet to open, too. But the symbols would attract his attention to the piece and mark me asother,weird,not quite human. I preferred to keep that secret.
