They were almost home free when a feminine voice said, “Enzo, a word?”
Lourdes.
They both froze. Seven made it to a count of five before they both turned to look at her.
Lourdes was five-six in six-inch stilettos, yet she carried herself like she was six-four. She was in her fifties but could have easily passed for someone half her age. She wore her black hair in a slicked back ponytail and a white pant suit that hugged her curves. The jacket had two cut-outs, leaving her bronzed skin on display from her ribs to her hips. Felix would have rocked that look, no question.
It was a total power move.
She was a badass.
She was terrifying.
Enzo looked at Seven longingly, then back at Lourdes. “Sure, what’s up?”
Seven almost laughed at the false cheerfulness in his tone. It was so un-Enzo-like that even Lourdes frowned.
“I need a moment,” she told him. “And no, it can’t wait.”
He shot Seven another longing look before seeming to catch himself. He cleared his throat and messed with his tie. “Uh, I’ll catch up and then we can…go grab lunch so I can help you with that…school thing.”
“Right, sure. My school thing. I’ll see you then,” Seven managed, disappointment dulling his desire like a wet blanket on a fire.
They were cursed.
Seven moped his way back to his desk. He’d just dropped into his seat when his phone vibrated with a notification.
Law Daddy
Five minutes. West wing supply closet.
Seven’s pulse skyrocketed, heat racing south. He pretended to look for something in his desk for a solid minute just so he didn’t look too obvious to the others wandering back from the seminar. Most of them were in their own world, laughing about the ridiculous videos or commiserating about how much work they needed to catch up on. The other interns were trying to convince one of the older attorneys to take them to the sushi restaurant across the street for a “working” lunch.
Seven didn’t know much about the woman other than she was a shark in her specialty—Maritime Law—and that she looked like a Norwegian swimsuit model. Her name was Selma, and most of the men on the floor were terrified of her. Seven included. Maybe it was because she seemed to get a perverse joy out of making them look stupid in meetings? But in a bizarre twist, she loved the interns.
Seven dipped out of the bullpen before someone attempted to rope him into going to an early lunch with them. He felt like a criminal skulking down the west wing hallway to the third to last door on the left. The one labeled supply closet. He tried not to look suspicious as he tried the knob, relief flooding him as it gave easily.
Once inside, though, the tension returned. The room smelled like toner and the bubble gum scented soap they used in all the bathroom dispensers. There were boxes of copy paper and metal shelves filled with everything from legal pads and pens to laptops waiting to be wiped clean and repurposed for some new employee. Was he really going to fool around with Enzo in a closet? Had it really come to that?
His breath caught as the door opened, Enzo slipping inside. The moment he saw him, all rational thought fled, replaced by a desperate hunger that had been clawing at him for months. As Enzo stalked towards him, Seven backed away, letting him crowd him up against the back wall until they were touching from chest to thigh.
Seven’s arms looped around his neck as Enzo’s hands landed on his hips, squeezing in a gesture Seven found oddly comforting.
Enzo pressed his forehead to his. “You sure about this?”
They were both already breathing hard, Seven’s heart was in his throat, his blood rushing in his ears. “Am I sure I want to let you get me off in a supply closet? It’s not my finest hour, but I’m sure I’ll recover.”
Enzo laughed softly, still smiling when his mouth found Seven’s, tongue teasing its way past his lips. Seven whined, trying to somehow get even closer, wishing he could somehow crawl inside him. Did other people feel this feral over someone’s scent, the heat of their skin below their palms, the way they breathed dirty words into their mouth as they kissed?
Enzo’s hands closed around Seven’s ass cheeks, and he laughed against his lips when Seven squeaked in embarrassment. That sound became a desperate moan as Enzo’s thigh slipped between his, dragging Seven’s cock against the hard muscle.
“If we were home right now, I’d make you ride my thigh until you came, then edge you until you begged me to let you come again,” Enzo said between kisses.
“Hnf,” was all Seven managed as Enzo forced him down onto his thigh once more.
“Your body knows you’re mine,” he said, breaking the kiss to press his lips behind his ear. “Not to be dramatic, but if you shoot me down again after this, I might actually fling myself off the roof.”
Seven’s head thunked against the wall, and he tipped it back to give Enzo access to more of his neck. His hands tangled in Enzo’s dark tresses. His hair was so soft.
