J.J. Massa is another author whose writing hits me every time I read it. No matter if it’s one of her werewolf stories, her cajuns or her male- male romances, every story hit’s the bullseye with emotion, and heat. So ofcourse, I had to get her in on Secret Thoughts:Erotique as well. Here’s what J.J has to say;
I love writing erotica because I have a need to tell the WHOLE story. I love finding two people and following them in the oldest dance—who gives, who takes? It’s so intimate and yet we all do it, one way or another. It’s fascinating to me. Male/Male is exciting whether in a BDSM or D/s relationship, or simply two men, looking for someone to be with. A touch, a smile, will it be accepted? Rejected? Is it forbidden? Ohhh, the angst! I love every second of it. And that’s why I think Secret Thoughts says it all—erotica is someone’s secret thoughts in action.
So, without any further ado:
Office Politics
J.J. Massa
“One moment, Miss Carson, and I’ll…” I faltered, cleared my throat. A slight tapping on my desk had caused me to swivel away from my computer monitor and look up. My new boss, Mr. Weaver, was standing there, arms crossed, golden eyebrow raised as he shook his head side to side. “I’ll check his schedule, ma’am, because I know he’s not in right now.” That was a fine line, of course. If he were truly in, he’d be at his own desk, not mine, right?
Mr. Weaver gave me a nod and a wink, approval. I’m almost ashamed to tell you how good that felt. My chest actually puffed out. No shit. I couldn’t help it, not even if I wanted to. I smiled back.
“He’s good, Jack!” The other man’s voice took me by surprise. It was Fred O’Neil, head of acquisitions. I hadn’t even noticed him. Jack Weaver had that effect on me. “Now, if only he had better legs and bigger tits,” the asshole chortled. “You know, while he sat on your lap and squirmed?” he snickered as the two men passed my desk and walked into Mr. Weaver’s inner sanctum.
I turned away, every bit of my face warm, right up to the tips of my ears. What an image, me on Jack Weaver’s lap. Oh, man! I had to adjust myself, shifting in my chair.
My fingertips were gripping my stiff cock, trying to find a comfortable position, when a heavy palm landed on my shoulder. Oh, god! It could only be… I tipped my head back just slightly. Yep, it was Mr. Weaver. I groaned inside, humiliated.
“Mark, I can tell that O’Neil’s comments made you uncomfortable. Step into my office when he leaves, would you please?”
My hand dropped uselessly to my leg. I couldn’t speak and just nodded. The grip on my shoulder tightened a little and then fell away. I didn’t move, waiting until I heard the muted footfalls, the door open and close, then laughter from the inner office.
Caught like a fly on a pin. Shit, shit, shit! My head dropped forward to the LCD of my monitor. God, I was so busted, so humiliated. Guess he’s got me pegged now.







PUTTING OUT THE FIRE





















