He bent his leg to free himself from the denim, revealing a close-fitting pair of black boxer briefs embossed with the unmistakable ridge of his cock. I dug my fingertips into my biceps to keep from launching myself at him.
His hands on his hips, Wes pinned me with a stare that would've been venomous if not for the ghost of a smile passing over his lips. "You should've eaten lunch when you had the chance."
"And why is that?"
Shaking his head as he reached for the jeans I'd set out for him, he said, "Because you're giving me a cock-hungry face right now. Fix it before I dickslap it off you."
Fighting my own smile, I replied, "I haven't a clue what you mean."
Grumbling about my bossy attitude, Wes yanked up the jeans and fastened the button fly without incident. Not a single tear shed, unless we included my cock in that tally in which case it was absolutely weeping at the sight of his long, powerful legs and sweet ass. That second-skin turtleneck too.
Smoothing his hands down his thighs, he asked, "What do you think?"
"I think"—I gulped down my first response, which went something likeI want to bury my face in between your legs—"I think they're a remarkable improvement. How do they feel?"
He glanced down, his shoulders lifting as he studied the fabric. "I can live with this."
"Sit down," I ordered. "To see if they're comfortable."
Wes obliged my command but he wasn't leaving it unmatched. "Come here," he rasped, shifting back on the bench and spreading his legs.
I went to him. I stepped into the wide arc of his thighs and ringed my arms around his neck. His hand found the tender spot behind my knee and scraped up, up,upuntil his thumb traced the seat of my trousers and the head of my cock, until his palm cupped my ass. Until I was a heartbeat on legs.
I gave him one of those pouts he enjoyed so much. "Yes?"
He patted his thigh. "Come a little closer."
I dropped a knee onto the bench but that wasn't enough for Wes. With his hold on my ass, he jerked me onto his lap, onto the thick, swollen ridge of him trapped beneath the denim. I took advantage of this position, grinding myself against his length like I didn't care about privacy or propriety or the promises I'd forgotten over lunch. In response, his grip on my ass turned vicious, as if he intended to keep a piece of me for himself.
"Where," Wes started, his voice strained, "did you get this beast of a dick?"
"I come by it honestly."
He pressed his lips to my jaw, nipping just enough to make my cock pulse with every bite. "I'd like to come on it until I'm so dehydrated I need to be hooked up to an IV."
I hummed as I thought this over. As I granted myself permission to have a short-lived fling without regret and without losing myself in the process. "How long would it take to get you to that point?"
"Three or four days," he said, his lips sipping at mine. "You up for it?"
"Some of us have to work on Monday, sweetheart. We don't all have the next month or two until shipping out."
Three lines formed between his brows, along with brackets on either side of his mouth. "Since we're on the topic, I should mention my entire life is up in the air. I can't get into the particulars because the government doesn't love when their operators illegally divulge classified information but suffice it to say, my next steps are much foggier than I'd suggested last week." He spared me a glance as he swept his palm over my ass. "Not that the current ambiguity of my career should change anything for you."
But it did. Oh, it did.
I gazed at his beard, feeling my boundaries collecting themselves and realigning into something new but close enough to the original that I couldn't pick out the changes at first glance. They were there like grains of sand, only obvious when I looked for them. But I didn't want to sweep the sand away or set myself back to rights.
"You're wearing these jeans out of here," I said, snapping the tag at his waist before moving on to the turtleneck. "The sweater too. And I'm going to walk a few paces behind you and plan all the ways I'm going to defile you tonight."
Wes dragged his tongue over his lips and then he kissed me, hard and fast at first but then deep and deliberate, like sucking caramel off a spoon. I fisted my hands in his hair and rocked against him without shame, without reservation, and it was everything. Absolutely everything.
I wasn't settling for bread crumbs—I was snatching the whole damn loaf or cookie or wherever it was bread crumbs came from. I wasn't settling. I was taking and I was doing it with the awareness this wouldn't last but I'd survive it nonetheless.
Wes rested his forehead against mine, huffing out a gentle laugh. When he didn't explain himself, I asked, "What was that for?"
"I was just thinking it's really cute you're under the impression you'll be the one doing the defiling."
Yes. I'd need that stolen hoodie to keep me warm when he was gone.
