We both might be masters of the good time, not a long time mentality, but letting this crush fester and evolve into anything more than just that while we still have weeks to spend together, counting down until we can both get our fill can’t be a recipe for anything good.
But when his pants are finally unzipped and his hand slides in the front of his dark underwear and comes back out with the largest handful I’ve ever seen, I’ve forgotten any and all reasons why this wasn’t the best damn idea I’ve ever had.
Long, thick, and throbbing with a magnetism all its own, I’m pretty sure Weston Grady’s cock just became my newest obsession.
And when he tucks it away with nothing but a cocky, boyish wink in my direction, he knows it.
My last night in town can’t come soon enough.
Transfixed.I’ve become one-track minded ever since that glimpse that was more than I expected, yet nowhere near enough. My poor vibrator hasnohope of living up to the fantasies going on in my head after last night.
“Yeah, just like that,” Weston praises me. “Keep going until it’s soaked, darlin’, mmhmm.”
My core clenches and flutters.
“You might have to use your hand, pump your fist over it and make sure it’s really coated before you begin. Just put on some protection first.”
My head turns to the right until I’m staring him down. “You do realize what that sounds like, don’t you?”
“Like I’m teaching you to paint with a roller?”
“Sure. That’s all it sounds like.”
Fitting a glove over my hand, I rub the paint into the fuzzy roller like Weston instructed.
“Fuck, you’re a natural,” he croons.
Now he’s just playing mean. Good thing I know how to hit below the belt too.
“Yeah?”
I moan far too sensually for what the task at hand calls for, bringing the roller up to the first wall and pressing it against the flat surface. The sound of moistness and friction ricochets throughout the empty suite.
“Like that?” My tone is straight out of a porno from the seventies, completely overdone just to prove my point. “Or should I go…harder?”
I begin rolling the brush, the wet noises it’s making lewd when paired with the exchange we just shared, the sex dripping from my voice.
Weston stares at me, eyes hard as I keep the show going.
“Mmmm, it’s soaked. Are you watching it drip?”
I make an exaggerated noise of pleasure, one I’ve never actually made in bed before, because no womanreallysounds like that when she’s enjoying herself.
“Sorry to interrupt,” comes an amused, throaty voice, and I freeze in place, roller to the wall, eyes on Weston, pleading for him to save me. “Didn’t mean to stop what you were doing, just passing through, don’t mind me.”
“Hey Lex,” Weston says easily, waving at the woman walking through the empty business we’re painting that isclearlynot, in fact, empty.
“Hey West,” she calls back just as casually.
“Have you met Amelia yet?”
“The pleasure is all mine,” the woman says, laughter building in her throat.
I give in, placing the roller back in the paint tray and turning to face her, wiping my hands on my shorts with a nervous laugh. “That’s funny,” I tell her. “Because of the noises, and the…yeah.”
Weston crosses his arms over his chest and watches me, practically giddy in his silence, watching me dig my way out of this one.
“This, uh, this could be pretty awkward,” I try again. “But would you believe me if I said he started it?”
