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BDSM erotica I'm working on. M rating, so don't read this unless you're comfortable with that. First sexual encounter between main character Keenan and his boss, Lance Grahame. I’m not exactly drunk when we’ve finished our meal, but I feel warm and a little bit tipsy, and very full. We sit for a while longer, finishing our wine. ‘I enjoy getting to know you,’ says Lance. ‘And I you, sir,’ I reply. At this point I feel like I’m calling him ‘sir’ just to get that smile out of him. He likes it, and that makes me happy. He thinks it’s cute, and that makes me even happier. Still, sitting here having dinner with him makes me feel almost painfully shy. I’m not normally a shy person. He makes me this way. ‘You know,’ he says silkily, ‘there really is something about you. I saw it the minute you stepped into my office.’ I jump slightly in my seat when I feel his ankle brush mine under the table. His blue eyes tell me it’s not an accident. I leave my foot where it is and clear my throat. Come on, be clever! ‘You, er . . . You’re pretty special yourself, sir.’ I know I’m turning bright red. That sounded so much better in my head. He smiles wider. It’s almost like he relishes in embarrassing me like this. Not something that’s previously been a turn-on, but now . . . We finish our wine, and he pays. Once we’re outside the restaurant, he gives me this quizzical look. ‘Walk with me?’ I nod. We walk down the Soho street we’re on. It’s just gone ten, and it’s a quiet night. He doesn’t really say anything, but then he takes a sharp turn down an alley. I follow. A few feet in, he turns to me, and before I know it I’m being pressed up against a wall and he’s kissing me. His tongue is warm against my lips, and I part them to let him in. It doesn’t take long before I’m eagerly kissing him back. He presses his thigh in between my legs, and bites my lower lip. I groan. As he begins scraping his teeth down my neck I utter a soft, ‘Fuck . . .’ Lance chuckles against my skin. His hand goes into my hair, and he pulls, hard. I groan again, louder this time. ‘Shh,’ he says. ‘Quiet, pet.’ I press my lips tightly together, trying to suppress the sounds threatening to spill forth. I’m desperately hard, and I know he can feel it against his thigh. He bites down on the base of my neck and it’s all I can do not to cry out. The hand that’s not in my hair snakes down to palm me through my jeans. ‘Fuck fuck shit!’ I breathe. ‘Hmm, such a dirty mouth on you,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘Should punish you for that.’ I whine helplessly at that. The way he says it sounds more like a promise than a threat. I’ve never been into that kind of thing, but his voice . . . God, his voice could make me do anything. He squeezes my cock through my jeans, and I think I might cum just from that, because it feels so unbelievably good and his breath in my ear makes my knees weak. Then, suddenly, his hands are no longer on me, and he’s stepped back. I open my eyes, letting out a small whimper of protest. His smile is kind. ‘We should leave it at that, for tonight,’ he says. ‘I . . .’ I clear my throat. I don’t know what to say. I feel a little humiliated, and that somehow makes me feel even more turned on. ‘What—’ He reaches out and strokes my cheek gently. ‘I’m sorry, Keenan. I . . . I wasn’t going to do that. I just couldn’t help myself.’ He pauses. ‘I mean, I was going to do it eventually. But I wasn’t planning on it being tonight. Still . . . I’ve wanted to kiss you since you walked into my office nearly two weeks ago.’ I release a shaky sigh. ‘I’m . . . I don’t mind, but . . .’ I trail off, not sure what I want to say. ‘Don’t worry,’ he tells me. ‘Your job is safe. If you don’t want this, there will be no professional consequences, I promise. If you do want it . . . Well, there are a lot of fun things we can do.’ He pats my cheek. ‘Think it over. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, perhaps?’ I nod. I feel lightheaded. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s get you a taxi home.’ He puts me in a taxi, pays the driver in advance, and then he’s gone, and I’m on my way home, my trousers feeling tighter than ever. I feel drunk when I stumble into my flat, but it’s not from the wine. I’m drunk on him. His mouth tasted like wine and chilli pepper. He smelled like musk and coffee. And his touch was like fire. My cock is straining against my jeans. As soon as I’ve shut the door behind me, I lean back against it and begin fumbling with my belt. I pull my cock out and start stroking it. Normally when I’m getting off, I’d imagine fucking someone. This time, I imagine him fucking me. Him. Mr. Grahame. Lance, pressing me face first into a wall and fucking me hard. I’m so close, it doesn’t take more than a minute before I cum with a loud moan. I sink to the floor, my hand wet with my own cum, panting. I draw a few shuddering breaths. This is bad. This is really really bad. And it’s so, so good.