I know he won’t. The man is good to his core, and maybe it’s because we don’t know each other very well that he keeps his angry eyes locked on me and his back flat on the bed.
“Really?” he groans, the anger more frustration at this point as his hand reaches for his cock.
The slow stroke up and down gathers so much of my attention that I’m grateful I have to turn away to grab my jeans from the floor.
“Stay just like that, Parker,” he says when I bend down to look for my panties. “It’ll only take me a second. Fuck, baby, your ass is perfect. You can’t see it but that pink pussy of yours is dripping for me.”
My face floods with heat as I stand.
“Come on. You should teach me how to be grateful for blow jobs. What do you say? Wanna give it a try?”
My mouth waters at the prospect, but I need to walk out of here holding the power instead of leaving it with him. We tried that last week, and I’ve been miserable ever since.
“Next lesson,” I assure him as I tug on my jeans sans underwear because I can’t risk being naked a second longer.
“Can we start that right now?” he begs.
“Such an eager pupil.”
“Yes.” His hand works slowly up and down his length, and I watch the twist of his wrist at the very top. I know it feels good, but I can also tell that he’s wanting me to make him come, not his own hand.
“Next lesson,” I remind him as I turn to walk out.
“When will that be?” he calls after me.
I don’t answer because he doesn’t give me time. Before I can reach for the doorknob, a rumble of a groan echoes out of his room, and I know he just came.
Those butterflies I was complaining about earlier take flight again, this time landing right at the center of me, a fluttering plea to turn back around and lick the cum off of him. I know he’d either still be hard or able to get hard in seconds. The man is one horny machine, and as I open his front door, I make a plan to see just how many times I can get him hard and make him come before he begs for mercy.
When the rhythmic sounds of him still stroking himself floats out of his room, I know I may want to schedule a few days to put it to the test. I don’t think he’d ever not be ready for me, and it’s that thought and a smile on my lips that gets me home.
It doesn’t matter that it’s not even nine or that the shooting class probably isn’t even over with. I strip naked, drop down on my bed, and get the best night of sleep I can ever remember having.
Chapter 13
Jude
“Where did you buy that good mood?” Quinten asks when I walk into the office bright and early.
“I’m always in a good mood,” I remind him.
“You’re always pleasant. The wide grin before coffee is new though.”
I hold up my nearly empty cup as if it’s proof that I’m just one step ahead of him.
“Why is he so damned happy?” Brooks grumbles as he makes his way from the hall to the coffee pot.
“Did you sleep here last night?” I ask.
It wouldn’t be completely out of the realm of possibility. We’ve all worked late and crashed here before.
“Too early, Jude,” Brooks complains. “Sit that good mood down on the couch until I’ve started my second cup.”
Quinten pats the spot beside him, but I take a seat on the other couch, grabbing a new magazine that Pam, our office manager, must’ve laid out yesterday after I left for the gun range. My eyes dart to my best friend after remembering I assured him I’d come to the range to help out.
“You flaked last night,” he says, catching my eye.
“I changed my mind.”
“You didn’t call or text.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” I tease. “I’ll try to do better next time.”
“Nice! Are we roleplaying?” Wren asks as he walks in with a smile that rivals mine. “I’m not really into dude on dude, but—”
“Because men are selfish assholes,” Brooks mutters.
We ignore him like we always do. The man is a bear before coffee, no matter how much sleep he got the night before. Two hours or ten, it didn’t matter, he needed caffeine before he was tolerable.
“What are you two lovebirds bickering about?” Wren prods, his eyes finding mine filled with a glint I don’t think I’m going to like.
“Jude flaked on the gun range last night,” Quinten explains, putting the office gossip right in the middle of our conversation where he loves to be.
“Because he was getting laid,” Wren says with a wider smile.
“What?” Brooks snaps.
“You lost it?” Quinten asks as he leans forward, elbows on his knees and fully invested in my answer.