Chapter Five

Anderson's eyes flew open, glowing bright gray, expression naked with guilt. "It's…it's just another word for assistant, that's all. I need your gifts. That is, we need your gifts. For the filing."

"Then why does it feel so good when you touch my cord?" Grasping his wrist boldly in one hand, I drew the tip of my index finger, slowly and deliberately, across the band of his cord, holding the most intense eye contact I had in my entire socially-anxious life.

I was delighted when his back bowed slightly off the couch, eyelids fluttering. " Fuck . Milo, ohh, don't do that. Gods, please. I can't…"

I slid my finger gingerly under his cord, careful to avoid tension, and gently rubbed the silken braid between my thumb and forefinger in tiny circles. His breath stuttered on a moan, free hand grasping a clawed handful of the plush leather armrest. "You didn't answer me, Sir ."

"It's… ung, like that …it's because we are… fuck, do that again …companions…" His jaw worked, his hips restlessly shifting. Uncurling his fingers from the couch arm, he reached across his lap and plucked at my cord with a cascade of fingers, as if it were a guitar string. Pleasure tumbled aggressively through my body and I abruptly released his cord before I snapped it by mistake, halfway to a spontaneous orgasm. Could I snap it by mistake? I didn't want to find out.

We both dropped our heads against the back of the couch, panting lightly. I glanced at him in my periphery, raising a brow. "So that does mean something. I'm more than your assistant , aren't I?"

Anderson chuckled breathlessly. "Companion or not, I'm not allowed to influence you, Milo. I already diverted your soul, and the power dynamics with that are…complicated…as it is. Your only official task is to assist my brothers and I with filing. Nothing else is expected or asked of you, and I will not take advantage of you, I give you my word on that."

I'd always been a practical person in life, and while flirting with a guy—being?—like Anderson was undeniably fun, I wasn't about to spend my eternity playing coy. If I had to be dead, I was damn well going to eat dessert first, and Anderson looked positively mouth-watering. I traced the luxe fabric stretched over his thigh with the back of my nails, light as a feather. "But what if I asked you to take advantage of me, Sir?"

I slid from the couch, matter-of-factly settling on my knees between his own, grateful for the plush carpet I intended to know intimately. I looked up through my lashes at him, admiring the heat in the glowing gray I found there as my palms rested on his knees. "What if I begged you to?"

I'd never watched a man's resolve actively crumble before, least of all over me , but it was an absolute work of art. His right hand rose to cup my cheek, both cords on his wrist brushing my jawline, tone deceptively tender as he stared down at me. "Then I'd absolutely ruin you, my moirai . Now come here so I can savor the taste of my destiny."

His fingers moved to wrap the back of my neck, sinking into my hair and pulling me up into his lap as I rose, sinking my knees into the butter-soft leather on either side of his hips. His free arm snaked around my waist, locking me in place against him as our lips crashed together, his kiss full of decades' worth of demand. Hungry and seeking, his tongue opened my mouth and found my own, devouring me slowly until my hips rocked of their own accord. Tugging up my dress shirt like it was an offense, his hot, bare palm found my lower back, fingertips curling against me to keep me close.

Rising like I weighed absolutely nothing, Anderson cradled me against his body and lowered us to the floor, careful to lay my head down gently on the carpet. I grinned against his mouth, wondering at the tenderness—I was dead already, what more could he possibly do to me? A lot , my libido whispered hopefully.

As he broke off the kiss to mouth at the side of my neck, he grasped my belt buckle with purpose, opening the catch with an effortless flick of his fingers. I whined with need, arching my body into his touch and digging at the carpet with the heel of one ill-fitting shoe as I babbled. "Anderson…please…please…"

His voice rumbled in my ear, making the hair on my nape, just below his grasping fist, prickle pleasantly. "Mm-there's that begging you promised me. Good boy." With a sharp tug, my belt flew out of my belt loops into his fist, then casually over his shoulder.

I reached down to fumble with the button on my pants, which earned me a growl and that overwhelming feeling of foreboding at the edges of my consciousness. "Hands off. I haven't waited all these years to be denied the pleasure of undressing you."

I sank my fingers into the carpet beside my hips with a pleased sigh. "Yes, Sir."

Anderson grinned down at me, his eyes practically feral as he took his time undoing each of my shirt buttons, pausing to kiss the skin his work uncovered. "I waited. I didn't peek at your folder, even though I wanted to a thousand times. A million times. It was torture, but it was worth it."

We both watched intently as his hand finally skimmed over my abdomen, pushing the button through the hole at my waistband and dragging the zipper open with a single, slow fingertip. The movement pressed against the sensitive underside of my cock, dipping into the gaping fly and offering an electrifying moment of skin-to-skin contact. I sucked in a breath, eyes wide as Anderson brusquely hooked his finger and yanked the button there clean off, tossing it behind him before greedily tunneling his fingers back into the fabric slit to curl around my shaft, dragging it out.

I whimpered and kicked my hips up, and he obliged by giving me the firm squeeze I desperately needed, leaning down to kiss me again. He stroked me languidly, every glide easier from the copious amount of precum gushing from my tip. Anderson nipped at my lower lip, murmuring against my mouth between sipping kisses. "You've got such a pretty cock, Milo. How'd you like to fuck my fist with it while I bend you over my desk?"

" ...Fuck!" I shuddered as I clutched at the side of his shirt, pulling a handful of the fabric out of his waistband as I groaned. "I…I'm too close…Anderson....I can't…" I whimpered pitifully, fucking up into his grip like my life depended on it. I'd been way too worked up before this to last much longer.

Again that feral, predatory grin flashed, this time accompanied by a slow, perfect twist of his grip as he watched my face contort in pleasure. "Ah, my beautiful, responsive boy. It's adorable that you think I'm going to stop at one. That I didn't fully intend for you to make an absolute mess of yourself before I'm even inside you. Just wait until I'm fucking you through the third."

His quiet, filthy words sent me soaring into the most intense orgasm in memory, the first jet from my twitching cock painting my chest in a thick stripe as I twisted his shirt in my grip. He swung a leg over me quickly, leaning down to drag his tongue up through my cum, his hand jerking and smearing the rest between us. I moaned his name so loudly I was sure the building heard it, pulling so hard on his shirt I dragged it halfway up his back, quieting only when his mouth found mine again, tasting myself on his tongue.