“The rate that’s going, it’ll be half past never.” I hear the annoyance in his tone, even with my back turned to him as I doctor up our coffees. I left his place earlier than normal today, needing to get back to my own studio apartment. Wesley convinced me to go to his place straight from here last night, which meant no clothes this morning. A rookie move I’m not ever letting happen again. Not at the expense of having to scurry off after having multiple orgasms. What can I say? Wes and I are overachievers.
“No news, I take it?” He’s invaded my space without me even knowing until I feel his hands on my hips, gathering the loose-fitting dress in his hands. “God, Wes,” I purr because I’m that addicted to this heady feeling only he can give me.
“None, which makes no fucking sense. How they’re covering their tracks, I have no way of knowing. I’m thinking I’ll be hiring an IT expert, one who’s probably some college kid who hacks people for fun.” One of his hands slides from my hip to the front of my dress, cupping my center.
“How are you able to maintain a conversation when you’re doing things to my body that should be illegal?” I moan, my head tipping back. His lips glide along the slope of my neck.
“It’s a gift,” is his response, and then he’s pulling away. See what I mean? My own request is really stupid, even if it is to protect Wes more than myself.
“No kidding.” I spin around, handing him a mug and then taking my own. The first sip is always the best.
“I bet I could make you moan like that ten times better.” His mouth, it’s fire and ice, smooth and dangerous all at the same time.
“Okay, back to work with you. We have too much to do, and I am not working late on a Friday, no way, no how.” I point my finger at him, which has been par for the course. We’d work until everyone was gone, sometimes an hour or so after, and then would come the good stuff. Tonight will be different. I’m spending the weekend with Wes per his request, and I’m packed and ready to wear something comfy, lounge on his balcony, and watch the city life.
“Fine, let me know when you’re done with the morning shit. Then we’ll get other stuff taken care of. I’m going to look into a few things until then.” He kisses my forehead then leaves. Thankfully, no one is around to witness our little session.
Twelve
Wesley
“Who the fuck is calling at this hour?” I mumble. Dylan’s nose is buried in the crook of my neck and shoulder, blonde hair covering my chest. I hate like hell that I have to leave her, not when I’m finally getting the chance to sleep in with her in the morning without work calling our names. I slide out of the bed, knowing it’s the front desk calling, and if someone is looking for me, it can only spell trouble. The way Dylan snuggles back into bed makes me pause as I slide on a pair of shorts. Yep, someone is going to pay for the fact that I can’t wake her up while sliding my cock inside her tight pussy.
“Christ, I’m coming.” The phone stops ringing and then starts right up again. This time, I answer it. “Hello.” My voice is gruff, and I know I’m taking it out on Alfred on the other end.
“Good morning, Mr. Maxwell. It seems there are a few men here who would like to talk to you, and possibly your guest.” My mind tries to clear the fog away and read between the lines.
“Are you saying someone in corporate or the boys in blue variety?” Alfred is saying something in between the lines.
“The latter of that, sir.” I scratch my head trying to figure out what this could be about and why they’d want to talk to Dylan.
“Can you hold them off for a few minutes? It is rather early.” I’m wondering how quickly I can get Dylan up, dressed, and myself the same way.
“Of course, sir.” God bless that man. He really does not get paid enough to deal with these types of situations.
“Thank you.” I hang up and am sprinting back to the bedroom, grabbing my cell phone off my nightstand because the sinking feeling that’s resonating through my body is telling me having my attorney here in the next thirty minutes may be a necessity.
“Dylan, sweetheart. I need you to wake up. We have an unexpected visitor.” I brush the hair out of her face, trying not to jar her.
“Hey, what kind of visitor?” Dylan’s face is soft and sweet.
“Police officers. Not sure what they want, but they’re asking to speak to both of us. I’m going to call in my attorney, but I need you to get dressed while I do that, okay?” I see her eyes pop open.