I brush my fingers along the underside of my cock. It twitches. Precum spills from the tip. I’m so close. Right on the edge.
“No. Mean it more.”
“I do mean it,” I snap. “I mean it so fucking much.”
“Try again.”
“Master,” I breathe out, my voice trembling. “Please,please, tell me I can c-come,” I beg.
He hums a sound of approval. “Much better, slave. You maycome now.”
I grab my dick again and start stroking. I erupt, cum landing on my stomach and chest in long ropes. I try to hold back the sounds, but the heavy breaths still escape me.
“Did that feel good?” he asks.
“So good.”
“Go to sleep, Cassius. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I smile to myself, my eyes already falling closed. “Night.”
“Good night.”
It’s the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.
Chapter Thirty-One
Harmon
I’m stuck at the office late and though I shouldn’t have, I asked Cassius if he would come here instead of my home. It was wrong, but I need him right now. All I can think about is running my hands through his soft hair. It’s the only thing I imagine will settle me through all this bullshit.
Gerard, my lawyer, keeps telling me he’s handling things, but the media is getting out of control and Diamond Russo is breathing down my neck, sending more threats to not only cut ties but get the other companies and other clients on board with her, too. Unfortunately, she’s quite persuasive, but I told Oliver I won’t speak to her again and if she feels the need to leave, she can do so. Other people will invest. This will blow over. Issues always do.
Cassius shows up at about six with a brown paper bag in one hand and a coffee in the other.
“I brought you food and caffeine.” He sits in the chair across from me, offeringthe coffee to me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as I take it.
“I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here, and it’s been a long day. I thought you’d like it.”
“We have food and coffee here.”
“Yeah, but that’s Starbucks.” He points to it with a smile.
I look at the cup.
“It’s just coffee.”
“Just—you know what? You’re cranky. Which is why I brought you food.”
“I am not cranky.”
He pulls out what I can only assume is a sandwich wrapped in foil.
“I’m sure it’s not something you would typically eat, but I promise it’ssogood.”
He offers that to me next, and I look down at my desk that’s covered in papers.