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EPISODE 24 - BRANDON DID IT AGAIN.

Irritated but curious, Wilson got to his feet and strode into the smaller room that adjoined the main conference room. It was a good thing his suit jacket was long enough to cover his crotch.

Brandon closed the door behind them and hissed, “What the hell were you doing? You were about to sign a contract with so many loopholes even I could see it!”

Wilson opened his mouth and then closed it, not knowing what to say. If Brandon was right, he had no excuse for his inattention.

Brandon huffed, glancing down at Wilson’s crotch. He flushed, scowled, and looked back at Wilson’s face. “Is it really that bad? I didn’t know your brain relocated to your d**k when you were horny.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Handling over a company that you have worked so hard for to some Japanese group on a platter of gold. You should have seen that those conditions were too vague for what you are offering them.”

“Watch your tone.”

Brandon raised his eyebrows. “Or what? You’ll fire me?” He glanced at the door, chewing on his lip. “When was the last time you got laid?”

“None of your business,” Wilson bit out, trying not to imagine shoving his insolent PA to his knees and then shoving his c**k down his throat.

“That long, huh?” Brandon said, before heaving a long-suffering sigh. He dropped to his knees. “I’m doing this for the company,” he said, unzipping Wilson’s fly.

Wilson couldn’t care less about his reasons, his fingers burying in Brandon’s hair and pulling his face to his c**k.

“Impatient,” his infuriating PA said, and then finally fit his warm, wet mouth around his aching c**k. If Britney saw this, she would have smacked his head with a frying pan. How could Wilson drive Brandon around so easily?

Wilson bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any sound. His hips were moving without his volition, his c**k sliding in and out of the boy’s mouth as his hand gripped his hair. He stared greedily at Brandon’s flushed face, at his plump lips stretched wide around his c**k, those glazed eyes wide and disbelieving, as if Brando couldn’t believe what he was doing.

Brandon lifted his gaze, and they looked at each other as Wilson f****d his mouth. Somehow, it made the act ten times more wrong, making him painfully aware that he was f*****g his male assistant’s mouth while his business partners were just a thin wall away. He could hear them talk, f**k.

He wondered if they could hear the wet, slurpy sounds Brandon’s mouth made, too. Even if they could, he didn’t care. He needed to f**k this mouth, this insolent, disrespectful, infuriating mouth that never shut up. He needed to f**k Brandon’s throat raw so that his voice became so wrecked he couldn’t talk back to him for days.

It took him a satisfying short time to come, but he was so worked up, it wasn’t surprising. He groaned lowly, keeping Brandon’s head still as he f****d his throat the last few times, grinding his c**k head against it as he spilt his junk down his throat.

Brandon moaned, his gaze unfocused. The little s**t totally got off on this.

“Thanks,” Brandon said dryly, tucking his c**k back into his pants and fixing his clothes. “Your sacrifice for the company’s good has been noted.”

Brandon glared at him. “I would never try this again. You better find a way to fix your s**t,” he croaked out, his lips still red and puffy and used—

Wilson averted his eyes and strode toward the door, annoyed with himself.

******

Brandon was still scowling as the door shut behind Wilson. Asshole. f**k, how he hated him.

Brandon jerked his fly open and stroked his aching c**k, hard and fast, pushing the fingers of his other hand into his mouth. He moaned around them and jacked his c**k. He could still taste Wilson’s come in his mouth, so it didn’t take long.

He spilt into his hand, hating Wilson and hating himself. God, he was f*****g messed-up in the head. He had promised. He had promised to himself that he wouldn’t fall into the same rabbit hole, that he’d stay away from his horrible boss’s c**k, but the moment he was given the flimsiest excuse to suck it, he’d done just that. Unbelievable. Pathetic.

Shaking his head, Brandon cleaned his hand, fixed his clothes as best as he could, and returned to the conference room.

Wilson was seated in his chair, his body language once again relaxed, his gaze hard and razor-sharp as he bored a hole in the Japanese executive, who was stammering excuses as he tried—and failed—to convince Wilson the contract they were offering was good.

Wilson didn’t even glance at him as Brandon took his seat, which only annoyed Brandon further, though rationally he was glad of it. The fact that his brain and his emotions were no longer in the agreement was pretty damn disturbing.

Why the hell did he want Wilson’s attention now?

It made no sense.

Scowling, Brandon forced himself to look away from his boss and pulled his phone out.

He texted Britney.

So, I may have sucked his c**k again. What do I do now?

Britney sent him an angry emoji.

Yeah. That about summed it up.

He needed to deal with his emotions rather than deny them. Others might not accept it, but, does it make him happy? He knew that no sane person would want anything intimate to do with Hell's master in the person of Wilson. It was a good thing that Brandon was insane and could handle about anything, including Wilson. He just had to accept himself first and then work towards getting accepted or rejected. What is living without true love and happiness? Everyone needs somebody, including a cold-hearted asshole like Edward Wilson. In fact, he needed it the most. Little hands that will tell him that everything was okay. Or, a warm embrace that would hug him during tiring hours. And, a mouth that would suck his c**k with love glistening in their eyes.