Dirty little confessions

The deal

The tattoo plagued the thoughts of Alex who slept very little that night. He was tossing in his king-sized bed, half-hard under the sheets, re-enacting the movements of the stripper, how that big c**k had parted him. However, each time the picture became clear, it turned into the face of Jordan--the expression of the stoicism of his bodyguard breaking into a smirk. By daybreak, he was too tired to take off his clothes, and at the same time, he was too curious to know. He came to the office early in the morning with a cup of coffee in his hand and a mind to fight.

There was no noise on the executive floor, only the whir of servers in the background. Alex sat back behind his desk and looked at his computer screen but did not see it. His ass still throbbed a little at the memory of the night before, which reminded him, causing his d**k to twitch in his slacks. He buzzed his assistant. 'Get Jordan up here. Security updates.' The deception was gauche, but it would pass.

Minutes later, a knock. Jordan walked in, six-foot-three of muscle squeezed into a tight black suit, his face as unemotional as ever. 'Morning, Mr. Hale. You wanted to see me?'

As he closed the door, Alex turned his eyes to the left wrist of Jordan. The sleeve of his shirt was creeping up far enough--the little anchor tattoo, black and indistinct, looking back. His heart beat quickened, and his face and groin were hot. 'Sit down, Jordan.' He pointed to the opposite chair, and his voice did not vary even when the storm was within.

Jordan did, and sat with his hands in his lap, that reserved manner undisturbed. But Alex discerned the wavering in his eyes, the slightest strain in his shoulders.

'Tough night?' Leaning forward, Alex drilled his eyes into the tattoo. 'Or should I say, busy one?'

The brow of Jordan was drawn up. 'Sir?'

Alex got up, circling the desk, as though he were a killer. He came to a halt just short of Jordan, seized his wrist and pulled the sleeve upwards. The ink was the same--lines and places were the same. 'Midnight Pulse. Jax. Ring any bells?'

Jordan flushed all the color out, and still drawn not to withdraw. His mouth tightened, his eyes fell to the ground. I am sorry sir I did not wish you to know it in that manner.

Alex set him free, crossing his arms, his c**k already making a stir at the confirmation. 'Explain.'

Jordan sighed deeply, stroking his tattoo. 'It's not what you think. It’s my secret shame. Give me the thrill, things like that. Didn't want to risk it.' His voice remained calm, no apologies, no explanations. “I’ll understand if you fire me.”

The power rush was mingled with arousal in the mind of Alex. His faithful shadow, Jordan, mooning as a c**k-teasing stripper. The idea of such body, such hands, whenever... 'You're not fired. But we need a deal. I keep you secret, pay you a raise-- fifty ercent, here and now. You, in turn, f**k me whenever you want. You bend me over and beat me out when the stress comes along. No questions, no strings more than that.'

Jordan opened his eyes, and looked at the crotch of the bulge that was so obvious on Alex. He moved, getting himself in position--yeah, he was into it. 'Yeah. I can do that.'

Alex's heart pounded. He knocked with a click on the lock of the door, and already the blinds were down to guarantee privacy. 'Prove it. Now.' He swung around, pushing papers off the desk, stooping over the polished wood, ass presented. His hands trembled as he unbuckled his belt pushing pants and briefs up to his ankles. Fresh air struck his hole, which was still sore, but he opened his legs further, cheeks parting.

Jordan got up, scraping the chair. He unzipped gradually, the noise obscene in the silent office. His c**k shot out, fat and veined and dripping pre-c*m like the night before. He rose and caught Alex by the hip with one hand, and fisted his shaft with the other. The hot head rubbed against the crack of Alex, and smeared slick over his hole teasing the rim.

“f**k, you are so f*****g tight,” Jordan said, with a rough voice. He plunged, sharp end tearing through the ring of muscle raw--no lube, only spit on his palm as he greased himself up. The burn was sharp, but Alex pushed back, and the first inches were gained.

He stopped, allowing Alex to get used to it, and began to thrust--deep, steady strokes that shook the desk. Alex clutched the sides, his knuckles turning white, his moans streaming.

The free hand of Jordan clapped to the mouth of the latter, silencing the noise. 'Quiet, boss. Do not want the entire floor to hear you being fucked.” His hips clashed together, c**k sliding over the prostate of Alex with each thrust, the sound of skin hitting skin being faintly audible. The eyes of Alex filled with water, his body jerked and his own c**k was wetting the desk beneath.

'This what you need? My d**k owning your ass?'

Jordan’s pounds struck deeper, changing his angle to strike that point persistently. Alex nodded his head against the palm.

'f**k—gonna fill you up.' The one hand still choking him, the other jerking the hips of Alex. Jordan buried his c**k deep, and groaned as the hot c*m burst out, pouring into the guts of Alex in thick spurts. The feeling pushed Alex over; he came without touching his c**k , the ropes whipping the desk, ass sucking Jordan dry.

Jordan dragged out slowly, c*m dripping down the thighs of Alex. He snatched tissues out of the drawer to wipe them off. With a satisfied smile, Alex pulled up his pants, which were shaky on his legs. 'Deal's on. Keep this between us.'

Jordan nodded with dark eyes smoldering with heat. 'Understood, sir.'