By the time I bottom out, my breathing has already deepened.

“This feels so fucking good.”

“I’ll say.” He lets go of my desk with one hand and reaches for his cock. The scar on his shoulder is still pronounced and moves over his skin as he jerks himself off. The way he gets so turned on by me being inside him has me powerless against my want for him, and I pull back a little before pushing in again.

Slowly, I build up my thrusts, adding lube when I need to until his ass stops resisting me and I’m able to move easier. Every thrust has his back arching, has my balls knocking against his, is pushing him further up the table like it’s too much, but then he’s pushing back onto me like it’s not enough.

Perry is so deliciously vocal, a never-ending plea that consists of my name and some really filthy words and not much else. Everything is so much better with him.

My suit jacket is stifling, and sweat slips down my back as I clamp hold of his hips and pound into him. It hasn’t even only been the sex that I missed, it’s this … this connection. The way that I feel when I’m deep inside him and he’s spread open for me, giving, taking, begging for me. We just work. We fit. And that gnawing lust deep in my gut gets more feral every time we’re together. It’s not stopping. It’s not ending.

This is everything.

“I’m about to come all over your desk,” he rasps.

“Do it.” Whenever I look at that spot, I’ll be reminded of this moment.

His body locks up, and he grunts out his release, clamping tighter around my dick. I’m racing toward the finishing line, skin feeling too tight, too restrictive, when all I want is to unload. To fill him up and know he’s mine.

My balls tighten, and with one last thrust, they release. I empty deep into Perry, hoping he can feel it, hoping he’s loving this moment as much as I am.

I fold forward over his body, struggling to catch my breath and put out the fire in my veins.

I gently kiss the place between his shoulder blades. “You okay?”

“Perfect.” He’s jelly against my desk.

With the last of the energy I have left, I pull out and flop back into my chair.

He doesn’t move at first, but I stop him as he’s about to.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

I reach across my desk for the whiskey and pour out a dash into a glass. Then I lean right back, eyes on his ass, and watch. “You want to feel filthy …” I kick his legs as wide as his pants will let him go, and then … after a few seconds, the first of my cum runs down his thigh.