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“Didn’t know you wore glasses, handsome.” I smirked at him.

His lips pursed, thin fingers tightening on his mouse and making it click. Returning his attention almost dismissively to his screen, he flatly said, “I do when my eyes get tired.”

“Right, right. Makes sense.”

I would have hated to stare at a screen all fucking day, sitting on my ass alone in an office. I’d lose my damn mind.

When he didn’t say anything else or look back up at me, I took a step closer to his desk. “Hair looks real good.”

“Thanks,” he said, voice just as flat as before, eyes still on his screen.

I held back a chuckle. Damn, someone was extra grumpy today. Was this how he usually acted after a nice frottage session followed by nutting in someone else’s mouth? He really wasn’t good at just letting himself enjoy the pleasurable moments in life, was he?

I’ll just have to up the ante today, I thought slyly, running my gaze over his lithe body behind his desk. Make him blow his load even harder.

I could give him my headless head special—that was always a hit.

Maybe I could even sit myself down in that desk chair of his and have him bounce on my dick while he used my head as a cock sleeve. I’d have to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him real quiet. I’d found out last night just how loud he got, and hearing his desperate moans and cries had made me come into my own mouth like a damn fountain.

Unfortunately, I’d have to table that idea for the time being. I highly doubted my uptight neighbour kept lube in his desk drawers. Taylor probably had some, but I didn’t particularly want to enter the fart zone that was his office to ask.

Plus, it probably wasn’t all that professional to ask the marketing manager for lube so I could fuck the IT guy in his office.

Headless head special it is, I thought, taking another step closer to the desk as I eyed Rafe hungrily. But maybe we can try the other thing at his place later.

Just as I parted my lips to proposition him, Rafe huffed and flicked his eyes over. “What do you want?” he asked tersely, glaring at me.

I stopped and blinked in surprise. Damn, that was… overly surly, even for him.

Was he still feeling rough from his hangover? Was he having an extra stressful workday? He didn’t seem to be—he didn’t appear frazzled or frantic. In fact, he’d gone back to calmly clicking his mouse and occasionally typing on his keyboard, effectively ignoring me.

I frowned, fidgeting with my head, for once not sure what to say.

I was kind of hurt, actually.

I’d thought we’d had a good time together yesterday. We’d hung out all afternoon. I’d dyed his hair for him. I’d sucked the cum right out of his dick.

I’d thought we were on our way to becoming friends, or at least friendlier neighbours, but apparently I wasn’t even worth looking at if I wasn’t busy making him come so hard that his fingertips left faint bruises on my shoulders. Bruises I’d noticed in the mirror this morning and grinned at.

Actually, I wasn’t just hurt. I was fucking offended.

At the very least, he should have been angling for a repeat, right? I was damn fucking good in bed. I mean, we hadn’t actually made it to a bed, but I’d still done some great work.

And I knew I’d blown his mind last night. He’d been all trembly and dazed, barely able to string a sentence together when I got up to head home once we were done.

I realised I hadn’t answered his surly question, so I hesitantly parted my lips to speak, still not all that sure what to say now.

“Uh… I was just—”

“I’m busy,” he said brusquely, making my mouth snap shut again.

Well now. That was just outright fucking rude.

I bristled, shoving my head back on my neck just so I was a little taller. It took a fair amount to work me up, but Rafe seemed determined to get my temper going today.

After I’d made him come last night and everything. What the hell?

“What’s your problem?” I asked, my own voice growing terse.