“Do it, Lashes. Come for me,” he growls into my ear. That’s all the permission I need, and I fucking combust. Rope after rope of cum spills between us and he follows me into the best place to ever exist—orgasmland.
Blissed out, I lay nestled in the dense fur of his chest as he brushes his fingers along my spine, our come cooling between us.
“I think we might have a problem,” he chuckles.
“Really? Whatever it is, it’s ayouproblem, not aweproblem. There’s fuck all wrong with me right now.” I smile against his shoulder. He must have recovered much sooner than me, because I’m still basking in ecstasy.
“It’s a big fucking problem, Lashes.” He slaps my ass playfully and I look up at him just to see the smirk on his face.
“Do that again and you might have a really hard problem between us.” I pump my eyebrows and he laughs.
His face changes at that moment. He is no longer the possessive lover, nor the competent lawyer. Right now, I’m looking at the face of a gorgeous and attentive man.
“That right there is the problem, Lashes. One night with you and I want more of your ass already.”
I feel the smile appearing on my face. That’s exactly what I want too. “As long as we both know where the line is, I don’t see a problem with you having it again.” I kiss his chin. “And again.” I kiss his neck. “But just to be clear, I’m not looking for anything serious.”
It’s better to put this out in the open from the beginning. If we’re not on the same page, then why bother with continuing? Although that would be a shame and maybe a bit awkward in the office. Damn, I haven’t thought it through.
“Good to know.” His smooth hands traverse the length of my back. “Just don’t go falling in love with me.” Then he winks. Hefucking winks.
“Youare the one who has already admitted my ass is like a drug. Once you taste it, you can’t get enough. I think you’ll find that you, sir, will be the one falling in love with me. But don’t worry—I will let you down gently.” I pat his chest, making him laugh and flash those damn dimples.
With that settled, I roll off the side of the bed and head toward his ensuite for a shower. I have a lot to do today. Starting with shopping for the perfect outfit to strut my ass into Capshaw & Sons’ offices to tell Mr Capshaw to go fuck a cactus sideways.
CHAPTER 8
6 Months later
JORDAN
Watching my ex-roommate Pete throw moon eyes at his boyfriend across the dining table and getting sweet smiles in return is giving me a serious case of heartburn. Now, don’t get me wrong, these two are literal relationship goals. So obviously and sickly in love. I can practically see the happiness radiating off them in waves of pink heart emojis. It’s disgusting. The very notion of some guy looking at me like that, like I’m his whole world, makes my fucking skin crawl. Ugh, no thank you. Talk about pressure, I can't even keep my own world spinning, let alone be expected to factor in somebody else's. That is why the fuckbuddy-boss arrangement I have with Dimples is so perfect. I get all the orgasms, none of the relationship bullshit, and complete job satisfaction.
Since Pete’s moon eyes are making me nauseous, I decide looking at Gavin is the lesser of two evils. I quickly realize I’m wrong. I watch in horror as he shovels the pasta carbonara I made into his facehole at an alarming rate. Does he think he’s on a timer? Or that somebody is going to take it away from him? My eyes are widening as I lean closer just to make sure the big guy doesn’t choke in my apartment. Pretty sure I don’t have the insurance for that. My eyes dart back to Pete to see if he is as concerned about the lack of chewing as I am, but he seems to be hypnotized. Maybe this is some kind of mating ritual. Gavin is a total bear, after all. Is Pete into food porn? Or mukbang porn?
“That was insanely good, Jordy,” Gavin tells me without taking his eyes off his plate. He proceeds to try and scrape the pattern off the bottom of the dish in an effort to get the very last remnants of sauce.
“I’m surprised you actually tasted it, considering you inhaled the majority of it.” I can't hide the incredulity in my voice. Pete swiftly kicks my shin under the table, making me jolt in my seat. “What the fuck was that for? I better not have a bruise, Sunshine.”
“Leave Grumpy Bear alone. He needs fuel in that big body because I plan to wear him out later.” He smirks and attempts a sexy wink that kind of just looks like a lopsided blink.
Gavin chuckles and leans in to kiss his boyfriend's forehead, not remotely embarrassed by his undignified eating habits. Their kiss lingers a little too long. I hope Pete doesn’t plan to wear him out at my kitchen table.
“Ewww… lovemaking? You guys are gross. Hey Gav, I have more on the stove if you wanna take it with you to refuel for round two. You know, atyourhouse.”
“Any more and the only thing I’ll be fueling is a food coma.” He sits back, rubbing at his thick torso. Pete’s eyes follow the movement before he scrambles to gather the empty plates, carrying them all to the sink. Clearly, Gavin is not getting seconds.
Pete got together with Gavin last year after he started working at Savage Ink Tattoo Studio as a receptionist. It was love at first fur for dear Petey boy. Unfortunately, Gavin put an end to that shit pretty quickly. Never a quitter, my best friend wore his One True Love down, and now here they are ejaculating their happiness all over my apartment.
It’s not that I’m anti-love. Ilovelove. I just don’t do relationships; I like my life the way it is. I can come and go as I please. I don’t have to worry about the need to constantly impress somebody else. Boyfriends are hard work. I know this because I have had them in the past, and no matter how incredible the sex is, or how amazingly we get on, sooner or later they want more. Move in together, sync calendars and eventually morph into one person. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with wanting that, just like there is nothing wrong withnotwanting it—or at least not yet. Who knows? Maybe I’ve just not found the right man—someone who makes me want to revolve my world around him. I doubt it, but I’m told I need to be more positive. Besides, being a single pringle means I get to taste all the flavors of the rainbow. Why would I want to give that up?
I’ve told Pete a million times already, but I will always be beyond thankful to him for recognising how miserable I was working for Capshaw. I knew I wanted out, but I never would have tried to pull strings with my pseudo-brother at his firm. Pete did it for me, and the day I quit my job at Capshaw & Sons will forever be one of the best days of my life.
I got myself the most outrageous business attire I could manage—which was tight white fitted pants and a semi-sheer long-sleeve silk shirt. With a face of full makeup and lashes that would make a drag queen weep, I strode right into Capshaw’s office and slapped my resignation on his desk. He blustered of course, wishing me luck in finding a law firm who’d be willing to hire me looking likethat. My response was swift; accompanied by a smile and a flipped finger as I walked out. “I don’t need luck to find one—I already have. Pushing me out was the biggest mistake of your life.” The look on his face was priceless.
“Jordy?” Pete’s questioning tone brings me back to the present.
“Yeah?” I ask, a smile still lingering on my lips from the memory of Capshaw's affronted red face.
