Sticking to the Script: Cipher Office Book #2

by Romance, Smartypants

  At five-fifteen he replied, and my heart dropped.

  DKM: I’m going to stay home tonight. I’m still not feeling well. I’ll see you tomorrow. X

  By eight o’clock, my nerves were shot. I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios where Ken arrived tomorrow to dump me. In one, he said he didn’t want to spend any more time with me because he knew he wasn’t interested in men anymore. In another, he said King had started threatening him and he blamed me. Then, there was one where he admitted he just didn’t find me attractive.

  I couldn’t take it anymore, and frankly, I was pissed off at the imaginary Ken for all the things he’d said, and I was pissed at the real Ken for making me wait for a resolution. I decided to call Damon and enlist his help.

  “Can you give me a ride to Ken’s place?”

  “Who?”

  “Ken. My boyfriend.” I hope he’s still my boyfriend. “You gave him a ride home about a month ago.”

  “Oh, yeah, the clown?”

  “He’s not a clown!” I snapped. “He’s a doctor.” I softened my voice when I admitted, “I don’t know where he lives, and I need to stop by.” I cringed. How did I not know Ken’s address? How had I never been to his apartment? I knew he lived on Taylor—I’d heard him say that much, but I should have taken the time to visit his place. “Will you help me, please?”

  “Sure. Let me do my eight-thirty rounds, then I can get Amid to stand post while I’m gone. Nine, okay?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said sincerely. “I’ll be in the garage at nine.”

  I could have avoided inconveniencing Damon and Amid by simply asking Ken what his address was, but I didn’t want to run the risk of him talking me out of it or refusing to let me come over. I had to have this settled tonight.

  The ride didn’t take long, and Damon double-parked in front of an old grey stone in the UIC medical district. The building wasn’t big, only three stories, and the facade was of a neo-classical design with bay windows and columns flanking the front entrance. It was well-lit on the outside and the windows facing the street all had lights burning inside.

  Four college-aged people emerged from the entrance. They were talking and laughing loudly. Ken had once said his building was always busy, and it seemed like he was right.

  Neither I, nor Damon knew what apartment was his, so I had to call him.

  “Hi,” he greeted. He sounded sleepy.

  “What is your apartment number?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m there. Here. I’m outside of your building and I don’t want to knock on every door trying to find you.”

  “Are you alone out there?” His voice held a tinge of alarm and I heard rustling.

  “No, Damon drove me, but I’m sending him away now.” I said thank you to Damon and exited the car.

  “I’m coming down,” he said and disconnected.

  I walked up the steps and as I reached the top, Ken opened the door. My breath whooshed out of my lungs at the sight of him. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and flannel sleep pants. On his feet were bright white socks—no shoes. He looked so sexy…and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were heavy, like he’d just woke up.

  “Hey.” He gave me a smile and reached his hand out to me. As soon as I took it, he pulled me closer to envelope me in a long hug. I let out a ragged breath, relief replacing tension, and I melted into him.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said into my neck.

  “Me too. I’ve missed you.”

  He broke the hold and led the way up one floor to his apartment. As I walked inside, I noticed immediately a distinct lack of decor. Ken had furniture and a TV set up, but that was it. No art, no knick-knacks, no throw pillows, or even photographs. There was, however, an abundance of textbooks, which overflowed a small bookshelf to stack on the floor. The apartment looked clean, smelled clean, but was blank and sad.

  Ken looked sad, too. It made my heart hurt.

  “Why didn’t you come over tonight?”

  He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Because I didn’t want you to have to deal with my shitty mood.” I followed his lead to the couch and sat. “I know it bothered you on Tuesday, so I figured I’d spare you.”

  “If I was bothered by it, it’s because you were obviously upset about something,” I clarified. “I wish you’d talk to me about it. It is King? Are you angry with me?”

  “Oh Jesus.” He closed his eyes briefly, then turned to fully face me. “No. But I meant what I said the other night, if this escalates any further and you don’t tell your boss, I will.”

  “So, it does bother you?”

  He screwed his face up in irritation. “Yes, it bothers me. You’re being stubborn.”

  “Ah-ha!” I pointed my finger in accusation.

  He grasped my hand. “Ah-ha what?”

  “You’re giving me the cold shoulder because you’re mad at me,” I accused.

  “I’m not mad at you, Steven, and I didn’t mean to give you the cold shoulder.”

  His hold on my hand turned into a caress with his thumb. I looked down at our connection and watched as his thumb moved back and forth along the back of my hand. He always did that. He loved to turn touches into caresses. It wasn’t enough to drape an arm over my shoulder—he had to glide his fingers down my arm. He wasn’t content to lay his palm on my knee—he needed to squeeze. He was so tactile…so damn near worshipful when any part of us touched.

  I didn’t know if I believed he wasn’t angry with me, but I decided that to get through this, to get on even footing, I was going to employ the same sensual tactics he used.

  “Then why,” I whispered, lifting a hand to his chest. “Aren’t you…” I squeezed his pec and grazed his nipple. His breathing kicked up. “In my bed right now, fucking me?”

  Before he could answer, I ran my hand down to his growing arousal and cupped him firmly. This elicited a moan and a thrust. I wasn’t playing fair. Sex wasn’t a great way to solve problems, but I was consumed with the need to see him wild for me, for reassurance that he wanted me.

  “Why aren’t you there,” I continued, circling his hardened shaft as best I could through his soft pants. “Naked, sweaty, and pounding this fat dick in my ass, Ken?”

  Those words were enough to open the flood gate. Suddenly, Ken became the aggressor, pushing me back against the armrest and taking my mouth in a hard kiss. He pulled my shirt from my waistband and rubbed my stomach, then he set to work on my pants, freeing me from my clothes. I couldn’t help the instinctive thrust of my hips as he fondled me. He’d hardly done anything, and I was poised for orgasm. Damn, I’d missed this.

  “I missed you,” I rasped, as he pushed my shirt up to lick a nipple.

  “Me too,” he said into my navel. He peppered my belly with wet, hot kisses, moving steadily downward to my cock.

  When I felt the warm heat of his mouth enveloping and sucking, my balls tightened, my release hovering near.

  “Jesus, Ken,” I tapped his shoulder. “That’s too good, you have to stop.”

  He raised his eyes to mine and gave a slow, firm, deliberate lick up the underside of me until he reached the head and swirled his tongue. Thor have mercy. I groaned.

  “Why?” he asked simply, not breaking eye contact.

  “Because I don’t want to come until you’re balls deep, that’s why.”

  Sharpness came to his gaze and he raised to his feet. “Strip off and get into my bed.” He held his hand out and pulled me up from the couch. He grabbed my ass and pulled our pelvises together. “I was waiting for you to invite me in.” He grazed a finger along my crack. Softly, he said, “I’m warning you though, I don’t get less intense from here, Steven. You have to know you have all of me, for better or worse.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  *DKM*

  He came to me.

  Steven was here.

  I had been tossing and turning, unable to make myself fall asleep, even though I was tired
. I was ready to give up and go back to Steven’s place, just so I could rest. In a short amount of time, I’d become dependent on him, his company, his body, his voice—to the point that being alone was intolerable.

  But I hadn’t wanted to make him uncomfortable. I’d been a mess the past few days. Angry, anxious, morose. I saw the looks he’d given me, the questions in his eyes and I knew it wasn’t fair that I subjected him to it. I could have confided in him—knew that if I did, he’d make me feel better about the situation. But I didn’t want to ever hurt him, and I was sure that telling him about my conversation with my sister would be hurtful. I needed to shoulder this alone.

  I also needed to get over it. That’s what I’d been telling myself for the past two days. On Tuesday, I’d hear Steven tell a joke or say something sweet and instead of feeling happy or laughing, I’d think, they don’t deserve to know him, and I’d feel worse.

  I thought being alone would help me get some clarity about this. In a way it had. It had become crystal clear that I hated being away from Steven. Clear that I was in love with him, and clear that if I wanted to get any sleep, I needed his body next to mine.

  But no clarity regarding Kari. It didn’t matter, though, because he was here.

  Naked.

  In my bed.

  Screw Kari and screw her wedding.

  Only Steven mattered.

  “Are you going to get in here, DKM, or are you going to stare at me all night?” he asked with a cheeky smirk. He was also squinting, trying to see me without his glasses, which he’d abandoned next to the lamp. I knew I was such a freak for thinking his blindness was cute.

  I’d been standing at the threshold of my bedroom watching him settle his beautifully naked self into my rumpled bed, and my chest constricted.

  He was mine.

  He was perfect and amazing, and I took a moment to recognize that I was staring at the rest of my life—took a long, reverential look at the man who owned me.

  When I didn’t move, Steven’s smirk slipped, his gaze filling with unease.

  “I just wanted to burn the sight of you and this moment into my brain,” I said, my voice cracking, betraying my emotion. I cleared my throat and walked to the bed.

  I stared down at him and rubbed my thumb along the coarse stubble of his jaw. “And I want to be as perfect for you as you are for me,” I whispered.

  Steven’s brow furrowed and he rose up on his knees to meet on my level. “God, Ken, you are. You don’t even have to try.”

  We kissed roughly for long moments until Steven pulled me down onto the bed. He spread his legs and I settled my hips against his. He yanked my shirt over my head, and I groaned over the heated skin-to-skin contact. I loved his heat. He was like a furnace, soothing all the frozen, aching bits of me.

  I looked into his eyes as I pumped my hips, rubbing my flannel-covered cock against his. I loved watching his expressive face change with each new sensation. Pausing briefly, I freed myself to allow the slide to resume with more skin contact.

  Steven seemed to be onboard with more skin, because he pushed my pants down my ass and massaged firmly. His hands felt so good, so sure and strong. I needed more, so I made quick work of removing the pants and socks the rest of the way and brought myself back to his warm hardness.

  Propping up on one forearm, I leaned so that we could see our cocks sliding together, so that I could stroke and squeeze. This went on for a few moments, until Steven, shaking and sweating, demanded I stop.

  “I’m about to come, Babe, but not yet, not yet, not yet.”

  At his words, I scrambled to the nightstand to grab a condom and lube. Steven chuckled at my haste. “Your enthusiasm makes me feel ten feet tall.”

  I rubbed my hands along the outside of his hairy thighs and said, “I feel ten feet tall whenever you look at me.”

  “God, Ken.” He said this like my earnestness was painful. Maybe it was, but I warned him. This is what he was getting. I didn’t think I could give less than all anymore.

  I reached for him, fondled and stroked for several minutes before I brought my lubricated fingers to his entry. We’d done this before. I knew how much pressure he liked, how many fingers he could take, knew just where to rub and how fast to rub to get him off. But this time, I wasn’t going to finger him into oblivion—I was preparing him for me, for us to ride into oblivion together.

  I wanted to take it slow, use more care and draw it out, so I slid to my belly and laved his balls and the underside of his dick slowly as I pumped one finger in and out. I kissed the crease of his leg, the inside of his thigh, I lifted his sac and rubbed my tongue firmly along his taint until he was trying to fuck himself with my finger.

  “More, please, God. Give me more,” he panted.

  I slowly added another finger and gave him a deep thrust. He moaned long and loud, grasping his cock in his hand.

  “Yeah, Ken, that’s it, that’s what I need.” He pulled on himself and watched me through hooded, pleasure-drunk eyes.

  “Is it?” I asked gruffly. “Or do you want something else?”

  “I want all of you,” he choked out as I sped up my thrusting.

  With a hiss, he let go of his dick and demanded, “Now. Fuck me now, no more playing.”

  I separated from him slowly and made short work of the condom, lubricating myself generously. I wanted this to feel incredible for him.

  Steven spread his legs wide and raised them a bit to give me better access. It was another view, another scene I wanted burned into my memory—more lurid, filthy, and desperate than the last, but just as significant. His hair was mussed, his eyes were full of tenderness, his pale, hair-dusted skin aglow in the lamplight, and his most private and vulnerable parts laid out on display, offered to me so trustingly, so eagerly. He was everything I wanted.

  I poised my head at his opening and gave a slow push, testing the give of his muscles. There was little resistance and as I continued, I watched Steven’s face morph from intense concentration to rapturous pleasure.

  I tried to stay mindful of him and his reactions, but as soon as I saw his bliss, I let myself get caught up in the act. He was so tight and the slide of my body into his was more delicious than I ever thought it could be. Our bodies moved instinctively, it seemed like both a beautiful dance and a rude, inelegant race.

  Breathing roughly, we held gazes for long moments, communicating wordlessly all the lust and reverence we had for the act and each other.

  Long before I wanted, I felt my pleasure spiking—my hips began to pound wildly. I finally spoke, huffing, “Steven, I need you to come, I want to see it all over you.”

  He reached down to pull furiously on himself. “I’m there, I’m there, I’m there,” he chanted as his neck arched and his seed spurted.

  The sight of him quaking with completion, the feel of his ass clenching me impossibly tight, tore my own hovering ejaculation from me.

  It took long moments for us to come back to reality. I felt like my bones were liquid, like my heart was galloping from my chest. Steven’s grip on my shoulder relaxed, as did his legs. I felt him become soft and slack under me as he recovered.

  Once I cleaned up and disposed of the condom, I rejoined him in my bed. His sleepiness reminded me of my own exhaustion. The orgasm combined with several nights of poor sleep made me tired. I knew I’d sleep well tonight, because I was next to Steven. My lover, my furnace, my comfort.

  My everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  *Steven*

  An angry, stupid alarm woke me from the best sleep of my life. I didn’t know where it was coming from, and as much as I wanted it to stop, I couldn’t make my muscles move or my eyes open.

  I was warm and comfy, pressed against Ken’s hard, naked body, his arm crooked around my middle and up my torso. I really didn’t want to get up.

  But that devil’s sound needed to cease, so I gave his arm a shake.

  “The alarm is going off.”

  “Hmm?” he humme
d sleepily.

  “That gawd awful noise is telling us to get up.”

  Ken moved behind me and inhaled deeply. I felt the loss of his hard heat immediately as he rolled away. He shut the alarm off, but, thankfully, resettled himself against me. This time, he kissed my shoulder and gave a small grind of his hips, presenting the evidence of his morning wood.

  His hard-on made me aware of the slight soreness I was sporting. I loved it. I loved every minute of the night before. It had been so hot having his beautiful, smooth body over me, inside of me—watching him come apart from the feel of me surrounding him. Yeah, it had been the hottest sex of my life, with the hottest man I’d ever met.

  But what made it unlike anything I’d ever experienced, was the level of emotion I was feeling—and that Ken had obviously been feeling, too. He was worshipful in his attentions. His gaze, his voice—they held so much leashed emotion, I thought for a moment he might cry. When he said he wanted to be perfect for me, I had a stinging sensation behind my eyes that warned I was close to an emotional upheaval, too.

  Ken gave me another poke of his erection and growled. “I have to get up,” he said. “I have never wanted to stay in bed this badly, and that’s really saying something, considering I’ve had to get up and fight blizzards to get my ass to the hospital.” He gave my shoulder a nip and a kiss and rose from bed.

  I resented reality intruding on our cozy love nest, but I needed to get up as well. Time wasn’t going to stand still for us.

  “If you’d like to shower with me, you’re welcomed to, but…” he let the sentence hang, seeming reluctant to finish his thought.

  “But what? Is it gross? Growing mold?” I joked.

  “No, it’s just a lot smaller than yours.”

  “Pshaw.” I waved away his concern. “Don’t think for a minute I’d mind all the ‘accidental’ bumping uglies we’d do. Sounds like fun.”