Strawberries were better. He missed them. Along with the ability to touch her hair without worrying he’d fuck it up.
“Anyone tell you how pretty you are today?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.
She cleared her throat. “Not yet.”
Screw the wedding. He’d spend the day in the dark closet worshipping at the altar of Velma. On that thought, he dropped to his knees and ran a hand along the backs of her calves and up the exposed skin of her thighs to shove her skirt up.
“Totally unacceptable, your boyfriend is lying down on the job.” His fingertips grazed the silky skin between her legs.
Her breath caught and she parted her thighs. “Is he? I should talk to him about that.”
Amen and hallelujah, she was ready for him.
“You really should. You deserve sonnets ’n’ shit.” Hooking a finger along the elastic of her panties, he pulled them aside and peppered kisses along the edge of the fabric, right to her sweet spot.
“I don’t think my boyfriend knows any…uh…sonnets.”
Fuck, if he were any more turned on, he’d split right out of his pants. Not good, since they were rented.
“I’m going to call this one, Ode to Velma’s Pu—”
“You should stop talking now.” Her entire body squirmed under his touch, kneading the toes of those killer shoes into the carpet. “Timeline. No time for poetry.” She grabbed at his head when he ran his tongue along her crease.
“Fuck, I could do this all day,” he said against the heat of her. That was about the only poem he could think of right now, and it didn’t even rhyme. His eighth-grade English teacher would be so disappointed in him. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Unbuckling his fly as he stood up, he sprung himself free. His dick would never forgive him if he didn’t get to play, too.
Velma reached her fingers around the base of his shaft and squeezed right in the spot where it drove him crazy.
Droplets dripped from the tip. Her thumb massaged them, and he nearly blew right there.
Rented pants. Not good. Keep it together.
Goose bumps trailed along her skin as he gripped the back of her leg and hitched it around his waist. He centered himself and drove home, bracing her against the wall.
His fucking phone rang.
He ignored it. Two minutes. He needed two more minutes.
Someone banged on the door. Neither of them responded.
“Seriously, Brek. Know you’re busy, but Dean can’t get the audio to work, either,” Jase shouted.
Brek paused midthrust.
Well, that ruined the mood.
He glanced to Velma; her eyes were wide and her mouth slack. With the reluctance of a martyr, he withdrew and accepted the fact that he’d be walking around all day with a shiny new set of blue balls.
More banging. “C’mon, man. I hate to cock block, but you’ve got to get out here.”
“Comin’,” he shouted back.
There was a long pause. “Out here or in there?”
“Shut up, asshole. I’m on my way.” Brek kissed Velma quickly and dropped her to her feet, waiting to be sure she wouldn’t tip over.
She adjusted her dress, and he ran a hand over his no-longer-there hair.
