This time, he's the one who slumps back against the door, panting for breath as he watches me struggle to get to my feet. My head is swimming so wildly that I can barely stand up straight in my heels. My legs are like fucking Jell-O. I can’t remember the last time I came twice in such a quick succession.
We’re both panting hard. And when I look up, I see a sexy smirk on his face.
“That was…” He tries to find the right words, but fails epically.
“It was.”
We both chuckle at my words. I finally get my bearings and reach down to hike up my jeans, while he adjusts his pants and tucks his shirt back inside them.
God. He’s a god. I could pray on my knees at his altar all day long without complaint. Pity I need to bounce on this guy. If I was to ever have a repeat with anyone, it would absolutely be this guy.
“Hey, why don’t you wait for me at the bar while I clean myself up?” My throat hurts and I sound hoarse, which just makes me smile as I press up to drop a kiss on his cheek.
“Sure, I’ll order you a drink and maybe you can tell me your name.” Nodding encouragingly, I usher him out of the stall and head to the sink. We both wash our hands, then as I turn my back to him and hover under the hand dryer. I swear I can see the reluctance on his face as he slowly turns to leave. Waiting for the door to close behind him, I turn back to the mirror and assess myself. I look exceptionally well-fucked, and all the nerves and pressure I felt about my interview are gone.
Thankfully, what isn't gone is the taste of him still on my tongue as I slip out of the bathroom, then escape through the back door of the bar. I have a feeling I’m going to be thinking about Dimples more than I would like to.
My suspicions are correct. I zone out the entire Uber ride home. Flashes of his cock bouncing in front of my face. The way he stretched my mouth and forced his entire eight inches down my throat. Jesus, I just came twice and my dick is getting hard again.
That hookup will go down in the history books. There is no way I won’t get the job now. Clearly, my luck is in.
CHAPTER 3
Eric
My phone alarm blaring on the nightstand drags me savagely into consciousness. Fuck, I feel like I just closed my eyes a few minutes ago. How the fuck is it morning? Reaching over, I swipe the screen to silence the fucking foghorn alarm. I blow out a long breath and scrub my hands over my face, trying with all my might to ignore the raging boner tenting my boxer briefs—courtesy of a vivid dream featuring a certain long-lashed twink.
I can still feel his hands on my body. I can still taste him on my tongue. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. I can’t even find the right words to describe the way he looked up at me. On his knees, lips stretched to capacity with tears dripping down his face. He was perfection.
My dick twitches, and without much thought I wrap my hand around the base and squeeze. I’ve never had a bathroom hookup affect me so much; maybe it's because he ditched me and I never got another taste. He asked me to wait for him at the bar, and like an eager beaver I did just that. I sat down, ordered him a drink, and waited… and waited. I probably should have realized sooner that he had left, but I guess I kept hoping. An entire hour passed before I could bring myself to accept that the hookup of my dreams had dined and ditched.
I replayed every interaction for hours before I relented to sleep. He had come so hard. I felt it on my tongue, I saw the evidence of it on the stall door. I can still remember how eager he was to have my dick in his mouth. His blown-out pupils, his flawless makeup had drawn me right into his web. I was sure our evening had just begun. That after one more drink we could catch an Uber back to my place and he would lay like a pillow princess and let me devour his body inch by fucking inch. Edge him until he cried so pretty for me and begged for my cock to fill his needy hole.
I get up with a groan, knowing I could lay here all day and think about Lashes. I’m rock hard and dripping precum at the mere memory of last night. God, that hot mouth and smooth ass. He took everything I gave and he was eager for more. Unfortunately, I know nothing about the guy. Not his name or age or even his occupation. I literally have no clue how to find him other than go back to Jacks and question the bartender, maybe stake the place out for a night or two. Fuck, what I wouldn’t do for a repeat. Well, I mean I wouldn’tactuallystake the place out—that's a step too far—but maybe if I happen to be in the neighborhood I could ask the bartender if he knew the guy's name. Surely he would remember the guy in makeup and lace. That's not weird, right?
The only thing I can do now is try to give my dick some relief with my hand in the shower, then get ready for another day at the office. Maybe I’ll find myself working late again and suddenly very thirsty. Turning on the taps, I laugh at my own crazy thoughts. I will not hunt the guy down. He obviously wasn’t interested in anything more than a hookup, or he wouldn’t have run off like that. Last night was a one-time thing. A glorious, random once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.
I wouldn’t even have been at the bar last night if it wasn’t for Jackson. My best friend stopped by on his way out of the office and told me I was becoming my father.
“All work and no play makes Eric a boring bastard,” he sang through my office door, making me slam the lid of my laptop down mid-report.
Jackson and I have known each other our whole lives. He’s been my best friend since we were toddlers and our moms were best friends. We went to school together, then went on to be college roommates. He has been by my side for all my highs and lows. He was the first person I came out as bi to: the asshole just looked at me and said, “It was my ass, wasn’t it? My ass is so glorious you’re now into men."
I scoffed back at him, shaking my head. "Jackson, I've seen your bushwhacked straight ass before, and I can assure you I have zero interest in going there."
Jackson looked amused, then slowly hiked up his belt and glanced down. "Then it's my dick, isn't it? Tell you what, I’ll even take one for the team and let you blow me for practice.”
I have never sucked his dick to this day, though to be honest, he really does have a great ass.
Jackson was there for me when my mom died. As much as I love my dad, he coped with her death by drowning himself in his work, practically forgetting he had a kid. Jackson and his family looked after me. Growing up, I took care of my dad. I was the parent reminding him to eat, dragging him away from his computer to sleep while I was at school because he stayed up most nights researching. Mom died from an aneurysm, and with Dad being a neurologist, he couldn’t accept the fact he never saw the signs before it was too late. While Dad made it his life's mission to try and save others from the same fate as my mom, I chose to honor her by following in her footsteps to become a lawyer.
I did always promise myself that I would not turn into my father, though. I made Jackson swear to never let me get too far down the rabbit hole that I forget how to have a life. My mom wouldn’t have wanted that for meormy dad, but he’s a lost cause now. I’m lucky if he remembers to return my calls. So, yeah—Jackson is there to remind me to live. Apparently his way of doing that is swinging open my office door, calling me a boring bastard and flipping me the bird before leaving.
When I walked into Jacks last night for a drink and maybe find a hookup to break my dry spell, I was certainly not expecting to have my mind blown by a Louboutin-wearing brat.
Now, I’m standing in the shower, watching as my release swirls down the drain along with any hope I had of ever seeing Lashes again. After stepping out and drying myself, I head to my closet and pull out a fresh deep green suit, a cream shirt, and a muted blue tie. I have a pretty relaxed schedule today, my only major task being to interview someone Cliffer referred to as “The perfect paralegal." I guess since I have rejected every candidate they have sent me thus far, they think I am looking for a damn purple unicorn—when really I just want somebody competent. I’ve worked with Drew Cliffer for a few years now and he is dedicated to his job, almost to a fault. So if he is saying this guy is perfect, I gotta believe there is something special about him.
I sit at my desk looking through my latest case. It's pretty much a slam dunk—the evidence is in my client's favor, as well as the fact he has an airtight alibi. Why this case has even gotten this far is beyond me, but I guess that's why the defendant fired his previous lawyer and hired me. I don’t usually like to talk shit about other law firms, but the amount of mistakes in this file is mind blowing. Mistakes that I’m hoping my latest candidate can spot off the bat.
