My Strict Boss Is the Secret Artist Drawing Spicy Comics of Us novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: Terms and Conditions

By five o'clock the room had gone orange, and the chief had Sota flat on his back on the futon with his knees up.

"Last chance," the chief said.

He knelt between Sota's thighs, shirtless, with his glasses on the desk and a bottle of lube in one hand.

"Say no, and I stop."

"Is that item four on a checklist?"

"It's the only item."

Sota grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his face down.

"Yes, Chief. Yes. Do it properly."

The chief kissed him until the room spun.

Then he sat back, and slicked himself with a long, slow stroke, and Sota watched every inch of it.

He was long and thick and flushed, and he looked terrifying and very, very sure of himself, except for his hand, which was shaking.

"Hey," Sota said.

"I'm fine."

"You're shaking."

"I haven't done this in two years," the chief said, flat and low.

"I would like you to know that I am not good at it."

Sota's throat closed up.

He reached up and laid his hand against the chief's cheek.

"You're good at everything," he said. "Come here."

The chief bent over him and braced one hand beside Sota's head.

Something small and hard touched Sota's lip.

It was the cap of a red pen.

"Bite this."

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