Tasting the Forbidden - A Mayhem Erotica Anthology (13 page)

“Professor Cameron?” Kaleb whimpered as I pulled out, leaving us both empty. Considering the questioning way he said my name, I knew he wondering why we’d stopped. But I wasn’t done with him yet.

“You wanted me to take you over my desk, didn’t you, Mr. Davis?” With a raised brow, I reminded him of his desires, his written promise to give me
anything
.

His confusion faded till his expression was replaced with a look of pure lust. The eagerness in which he scurried to position himself on the desk was enough to make me chuckle. He had no idea what he was doing to me. Of all the men I’d been with, none of them made me feel the way Kaleb did, as desired and wanted, as irresistible. I had never wanted anyone as much as I wanted him.

Tenderly, I leaned in closer, my throbbing dick pressed against his bare ass as I planted a hot trail of kisses down his spine. He shivered in delight, arching his back, wiggling his bottom to entice me. It worked, of course.

Without further hesitation, I slid inside him again, pumping slowly before I increased my pace once more. “Oh shit,” he screamed as I pulled back, only to slam up into him hard and fast. The noise was so loud, I had to wrap my hand around his mouth to keep him quiet. It just wouldn’t do for one of my colleagues to come knocking while I fucked my TA so hard I lifted his body off the ground with each and every thrust.

Yes. This is what I’ve been missing. This fucking perfection.

Kaleb cried out again, reaching around to stroke himself as I pounded into him. I knew he was seconds away from spilling his cum all over my desk. The sound of my name leaving his lips was almost too muffled to understand. Instead, it was his body that told me he was coming again, his legs quivering as he clenched around me, causing my balls to tighten in response.

This time, when I felt like I was going to lose it, I let go, giving in to what my body desired most—to unload my cum inside Kaleb Davis.

Sliding my hands over his taut, firm stomach, I pulled him against me, rolling my hips harder and faster, drawing my body closer to the edge of release. Kaleb screamed behind my hand, his body tensing.

His intense release triggered my own.

“You’re gonna make me come. Oh, God, I’m about to fucking come.” He arched into me, clenching his ass, pushing against my thrusts till I was as deep as I could go. That was all it took.

“I’m coming—
oh fuck
— I’m coming!” We both froze in place, my dick buried inside Kaleb’s body, spilling wave after wave of hot cum deep inside his sweet ass.

-

-

“Oh fuck, Professor Cameron,” Kaleb sighed, stretching his body like a contented cat, satisfied, looking pleasurably used and thoroughly fucked. My exhausted dick managed a little twitch, no doubt from the aftereffects of our vigorous coupling. “That was so...” he bit his bottom lip and shook his head as if he was trying to gather his thoughts “...amazing. Perfect.”

His shy smile was infectious, and I found myself grinning in response. “I wasn’t too rough then?”

He chuckled and shook his head before slowly running his fingers over my stomach. His eyes sparkled, locking on mine. “Like I said, perfect.”

“Well—having an insight into your innermost desires didn’t hurt.” Wow. How was it so easy to joke around like this after what we’d just done? This was usually the awkward part.

Yet another reason why I won’t be giving this boy up anytime soon.

“That fucking thing...I can’t believe I gave it to you. But honestly, I was just so sick of playing games. I couldn’t go another day without letting you know how much I’ve wanted you.”

“I’m glad you did. I never would have had the courage to admit it to you. Hell, I barely admitted it to myself,” I told him, wrapping my arms around Kaleb’s waist. I wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

“About the notes...you know your behavior isn’t all
that
obvious, right?” He laughed a little.

“You didn’t seem to have any trouble figuring it out,” I replied, my tone playfully sarcastic.

“For one, I’m smarter than the average bear, but to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for Terry Monahan.”

“Terry Monahan?” I was stumped. Has
that idiot jock been telling people I'm gay? How the hell did he find out?

“You remember that paper he did last month, the
really
good one? The one that was
too
good?”

Of course I remembered. Kaleb and I spent hours scouring college research papers, trying to prove that his paper was plagiarized. “Of course.”

“Well, you probably should have closed the porn in your browser before you had me use it for research.”

Shit.

THE POLITICS OF SEX

Les Joseph

Copyright © 2013
Les Joseph

Edited by Laurel & Born

Cover Art ©
Mayhem Cover Creations

All rights reserved, worldwide.

I could never, ever accomplish anything without a few very special people. Laurel is my everything and I couldn’t write one word without her by my side. Born helps make my words pretty and patiently reminds me that there is such a thing as the overuse of the word then. Jami is my biggest cheerleader and the sister of my heart. Misty and Jules let me freak-out and still love me anyway. My husband and my family let me ignore them for long periods of time and never make me feel guilty for doing what I love. Thank you, I love you all!

SPENCER
Cade has been groomed to be a politician since he was in diapers. Born and bred in Texas, he comes from a long line of powerful men. The Cade family has been involved in politics since the Goldwater era, and Spencer is their last great hope to make it all the way to the White House. As a State Senator, he’s made quite a name for himself. Young and charismatic, Spencer is ready for the next step, to become a US Senator. Spencer has it all: the right family name, the right background, education, the perfect wife—he’s on track to make it all the way to the top. Everything is going to plan until George Walsh shows up at his election headquarters as the new campaign manager.

WORKING
for Spencer Cade is a dream come true for George Walsh. While he’ll never set the world on fire, George knows politics. Shrewd and reserved, with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue when the situation calls for it, George has no problem doing whatever needs to be done to ensure that Spencer makes it to Washington. With his black framed glasses, quirky bow ties, and argyle sweater vests with matching socks, he rocks Spencer’s outwardly straight life to its very core. Their attraction to each other is instantaneous, intense, and the one thing that can bring Spencer Cade’s carefully managed life to the ground in a spectacular, fiery explosion of politics, love, and sex.

“SPENCER
,”
Melanie Cade calls to her husband as he tries to leave the house unseen.

He sighs, shoulders lifting all the way to his ears, and he rolls his eyes before backtracking a few steps to turn toward the kitchen.

Melanie is standing with their maid, Rosa, no doubt going over a meticulously detailed list of things she wants done for the day.

Taking a fortifying deep breath while curling his fingers into tight fists, he answers with a curt, “Yes?”

Melanie looks up from the piece of paper she’s holding to glance at Spencer as he approaches. Her gaze is fleeting, but long enough for Spencer to clench his jaw and wish he was anywhere but standing here, with her.

She ignores him while she finishes with Rosa, and his blood boils as he waits. For the next few moments he goes through the already long—and getting longer by the day—list of things about her that make him dislike her more and more, her complete lack of respect for anyone’s time but her own at the very top. He sighs, loud and drawn out, knowing it’ll do nothing but piss her off. At this point in their marriage, the two are roommates, nothing else. Not even friends, which should make him sad, but doesn’t. Too many hurt feelings, too many nights spent alone . . . too much time for the hostility to grow to be any different.

As pathetic as it is to admit, Spencer doesn’t even care. His sole focus is to make it to Washington and the Senate. Despite what his team of political advisors, and his father, say, he’ll be demanding a divorce before he takes the Oath of Office. He’d do it right this second if he could get away with it, but even he knows that a messy—and there’s little doubt it will be anything but a bloodbath—divorce right at the beginning of his campaign is equivalent to political suicide.

Melanie dismisses Rosa with a haughty flick of her wrist and slides her cool, sky blue eyes toward Spencer. “Don’t forget about the fundraiser tonight at the Ritz. You can change at the office and meet me at the hotel. I’ll have your tux delivered.” Her words are spoken succinctly, void of any emotion, as if she were speaking to a complete stranger instead of her husband of six years.

Spencer grinds his teeth, biting his tongue to keep a smart-ass comment from escaping. He has a meeting this morning with one of the firm’s most valuable clients, and he needs to get to the office to go over a few things with his assistant, Carol, beforehand. So while snapping at Melanie would be enjoyable, rushing before his meeting because of the ten minute long, minimum, argument that will follow isn’t worth the trouble. So instead, “Great. Thanks,” is what he says back.

Simple. Abrupt. Straight to the point with the fewest words possible.

Melanie’s heavily made up face, despite the fact it’s not even eight a.m. is, as always, perfect, barring her frown at Spencer’s sharp tone of voice. Really. She should be more than used to it by now, but she’s a southern girl through and through and more than a little spoiled. She tries to pout; a tactic as inbred in all southern belles as rooting for the Dallas Cowboys and a love of biscuits and gravy, but her mouth flattens when she realizes the gesture is lost on Spencer.

Her eyes narrow and she lifts her chin. “Don’t be late. There will be some very important people in attendance tonight, and they’re paying a pretty penny to dine with you,” she snaps and spins on her heel, flouncing out of the kitchen toward her office without even looking back.

Spencer watches her go, his mouth turned down, a dip between his eyebrows. He briefly closes his eyes, thinking of more pleasant things, and allows himself to be immersed in the visions that flash behind his eyelids. Dark framed glasses. Slate gray eyes instead of icy blue. Short, black wavy hair instead of bottle blonde. Tight, compact muscles, pale skin, and a stubbled jaw. Rough hands that know just where to touch to make his heart race.

Standing there in his kitchen, the tightening of his pants, the sharp punch of lust that washes over him as he remembers exactly how George's hands make him feel nearly takes his breath away. Spencer gives himself another moment, just one, to indulge in his memory before he stands up straight, shoulders square, head high, and leaves for work.

By the time he arrives at his office, a corner suite on the 33rd floor in one of downtown Dallas’s most impressive high rises, Spencer’s attention shifts to the day ahead. Not that thoughts of his sexy and intense campaign manager are ever far away, but the meeting this morning is important not just to the firm, but to him personally. As the head of the Oil and Gas Division of Cade and Sons, it’s difficult to balance his love of the law with his desire to get to Washington, but every now and then a case comes up that reminds him of why he got his law degree in the first place—and it certainly wasn’t because his parents expected him to. If anything, that would normally push him a hundred miles in the opposite direction, but the law is in his blood.

His morning flies, spent in meetings and on phone calls, going over his schedule with Carol. When his cell phone vibrates on his desk, he’s shocked to find that it’s past lunchtime. Though when his stomach growls, he remembers he didn’t even eat breakfast. He turns his phone over, and a wide, spontaneous smile breaks out across his face.

Swiping his finger across the screen to accept the call, he answers with a very,
very
, pleased, “Mr. Walsh, what a nice surprise.”