“Thanks, guys,” Evan says, his voice vibrating from restrained laughter. “I think we’re heading to bed, too.”
“Mmhmm,” I say, not even trying to disguise what we all know “going to bed” really means right now. “You two have fun.”
Layla’s muffled giggle follows me into my bedroom as well as a muffled, “You too!” from Evan as Daniel firmly closes the door.
He stares at it for a minute. “Part of me wishes there were a way to lock this just to make sure he doesn’t try to fuck with us.”
I snort-snicker. “I didn’t know Evan was into group sex. Kinky.”
Daniel glares at me, but the irrepressible smile on his lips belies his annoyance. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Stepping closer to him, I layer my arms over his shoulders and around his neck. “They’re going to be too busy having their own fun to interrupt ours,” I say softly, then pull his face to mine for a kiss.
As soon as his lips touch mine, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me like I’ve been dying for all night. Hanging with friends is fun, and I had a great time, but we’ve both been so busy this semester that we’ve barely had time alone. I finished my last final today, and while I’m still expected in the office where I’m interning this year over Christmas break, I’ll have a little more free time for a few weeks. And once Daniel’s on break too, it’ll be even better.
One of the perks of being with a teacher when I’m still in school is that our downtimes so closely align. Not that there’s ever really downtime in law school. Breaks are consumed by internships and resume builders designed to make you stand out from your classmates so you can land a job once you graduate and pass the bar. And passing the bar is a whole other thing all by itself. For most people, graduation means they can ease up on studying. But for aspiring lawyers? Nope. You have to study even more so you can pass the test and then stay on pins and needles for months while you wait for the results.
But all of those worries and stressors and aggravations can wait for another day. Another time.
Because right now, Daniel’s lips are skating down my throat, and his hands are pushing their way into my jeans, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me.
He growls softly against my skin, and I live for these sounds, these reactions from him. “I love you,” I whisper as he undoes the button and zipper on my jeans and shoves them below my ass.
“I love you too,” he says back, kissing me deeply again as his fingers slide between my thighs. “I love how wet you always are for me,” he whispers against my lips before claiming them again as he pets me from opening to clit and back again in slow, measured strokes.
Squirming under his attention, I shove my jeans down more so I can step my feet wider, giving him more access. “I want you,” I tell him, breathless.
He grunts, a sound of pure male satisfaction. “Good. Because I always want you.”
Stepping back, he leaves me bereft, but I recover quickly when he nods at the bed and starts removing his clothes, revealing his dark brown skin covering a beautiful six pack. He still works out just like he did when he played football, and I love his dedication. He’s even put together a training program for me that fits into my crazy schedule and makes it so I can keep baking pies without worrying I’ll end up weighing four hundred pounds.
I shimmy out of my clothes and climb on the bed, my eyes never leaving the show he’s giving me. No, he’s not doing a striptease or anything, but I always love watching him undress for me, the way he watches me watch him, my own hunger reflected back in his eyes. Our start was a little rocky, a little unorthodox, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything since now I get this man in my bed every night.
“Dessert tonight was good,” he tells me as he climbs onto the bed with me, one hand hooking my ankle and tugging me flat on my back. “But I won’t be satisfied until I get a taste of this sweet pussy.”
I pull my hands behind my head, grabbing the pillow in anticipation, and spread my legs for him.
He runs a hand up my inner thigh and lets out an appreciative noise. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he says as he rubs my pussy with the flat of his hand before dipping his head and licking me from opening to clit, just like he was stroking me with his finger a moment ago.
I squirm and buck under his attention, and he bars one arm across my hips to hold me in place. I love it when he holds me down and forces me to take what he wants to give me, and he knows it.
The fingers of his other hand hold me open for the onslaught of his tongue. Then he raises his head, watching me as he turns his hand palm up and slides his two middle fingers inside me, stroking my inner walls until he finds the spot that sends an electric zap through me. He grins, the smile of a man satisfied with his own prowess. “Yeah, that’s the spot,” he says, stroking it gently at first, then getting firmer as I jolt and buck against him, craving even more.
He lowers his head again, continuing to fuck me with his fingers as he sucks on my clit, and I come in a blaze of white light, heat pouring through my veins, and he doesn’t let up at all, prolonging the ecstasy until the wave breaks and crashes on the shore.
Only then does he gently lick my clit one last time and slowly withdraw his hand, that same smile of male satisfaction on his face. “And that’s how I take care of you,” he says as he layers his body over mine, the head of his cock notching just inside my entrance.
But I want him stretching me, causing the aftershocks that always come when he fucks me after he makes me orgasm like that and then often makes me orgasm again. “Mmm,” I moan as just the tip slides in and out of me. “You’re such a tease.”
He chuckles, then drives his hips forward in one firm thrust, seating himself fully. I arch involuntarily, the breath driven out of me in a gasp, and my legs curling up to clamp around his hips.
“That better?” he asks in a voice that would sound menacing if I didn’t know he loved me absolutely and without reservation.
“Much.”
He starts off slow, rocking his hips into me, his lips fused to mine, his tongue in my mouth, and I know it’s because even this much friction is causing my legs to jerk and twitch as he drags his cock in and out of me. He’s taking his sweet time, giving me a moment to recover as much as possible while he fucks me slow and deep so that he can send me flying again.
“You are almost too much,” I whisper when he trails his lips to my jaw, down my throat, curling over me so he can play with my nipples.
His dark eyes meet mine. “And you love it.”
I nod enthusiastically, writhing under his attention. “I do. I absolutely do.”
He pinches one nipple while his tongue toys with the other, then he switches, paying equal attention to the other side. Sitting back on his heels, his hands fall to my hips, and he pulls me up onto his lap, holding me in place while his tempo increases. One of his hands covers my mound, his thumb dipping down to circle my clit, his eyes glued to where we’re joined.
And the avid lust on his face is so fucking hot, it’s almost enough make me come all by itself.
His hips move faster, his thumb now scrubbing back and forth over my clit the way he knows will take me there a second time, and his eyes clash with mine. “I love you,” he says, his voice low and hoarse with need. “I fucking love you so much. Come for me again, baby. I want to feel you strangling my dick with your tight little pussy.” His hips snapping harder, his thumb never stopping, he urges me on with filthy words that drive me crazy in the best way.
And then it happens. The coil that’s been ratcheting tighter and tighter low in my belly releases with a snap. My limbs convulse, and I clamp down on him in rhythmic pulses. Groaning, he stretches out over me again to give himself better leverage, riding me hard through my orgasm and into his own.
When he collapses on top of me in a gorgeous, sweaty heap, I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him close. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
He lifts his head and
gives me a gentle kiss. “I’ve missed you too. Only two more weeks, and I’m on break, and we can relax more.”
I give him a cocky grin. “Like this?”
Chuckling, he withdraws and grabs a washcloth from the pile we keep by the bed just for this purpose. “Yeah, babe. Just like this.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Abby
Lance lets out a heavy sigh when we get into our place and pulls out his phone.
After hanging up my coat, I turn to him with a concerned look. “Everything alright? Is something wrong with one of your clients?”
He shakes his head and shoves his phone back in his pocket before taking off his jacket and hanging it up as well, then he pulls me in close and wraps his arms around my waist. “No, my clients are all fine as far as I know. It’s, uh …”
Disengaging, he wraps a hand behind his neck and gives it a squeeze as he paces the length of the living room. “Matt talked to me tonight.”
I sink onto the couch and pull a throw pillow into my lap, torn between amusement and apprehension. I mean, of course he talked to Matt. We were at Matt’s house. They’re friends. But the way he’s acting means it was something serious. “Is he okay? Or Hannah? Are they both okay?”
Lance glances at me with a quick, reassuring grin. “No, no, everyone’s fine. No one’s sick or pregnant or in trouble.” His mention of pregnancy sends a spike of adrenaline through me, because that statement isn’t actually true. Megan’s pregnant. But Lance doesn’t know that yet.
Has she told Chris? Since neither of them mentioned it tonight, I kinda don’t think so. Which seems strange to me. I figured she would’ve told him at the first opportunity. I know she wanted to wait to tell him in person, but he’s here now, so …
But Lance keeps talking, and I have to leave Megan and her issues for later. She’ll tell Chris when she’s ready, after all. Maybe he passed out as soon as they got to the hotel. And I can understand not wanting to tell him in the car.
“Um, well, so …” Lance stammers. “Matt.”
I have to fight back a grin, because this level of hemming and hawing isn’t at all like Lance. And the fact that he’s so discombobulated is reassuring in and of itself—when there’s bad news, he just spits it out and helps clean up the consequences.
“Yes. Matt. What did Matt talk to you about?”
He finally squares his shoulders and meets my eyes, turning back into the direct and confident man I know and love. “He offered me a job.”
My eyebrows wing up in surprise. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but that wasn’t it at all. “Oh?” It’s all I can manage to say, stalling while I process this.
Matt offered him a job? Is Matt’s business that steady that he needs two marketing people? Although Hannah did mention working part time for an environmental organization and feeling overwhelmed, so maybe she’s not going to be working for Matt anymore?
If that’s the case, does that mean there’s trouble in their relationship? Or that working and living together isn’t working out so well? But then, Matt’s gone often enough that it’s not like they’re in each other’s space twenty-four seven.
“Hey,” Lance says softly, sitting on the couch and taking my hands in his. “If the thought of me quitting my job and working for Matt makes you that uncomfortable, I can tell him no.” He gives my fingers a squeeze, and the way he’s obviously trying to comfort and soothe me makes me realize my surprised face has turned into a scowl.
I give him a smile and squeeze his hand in return. “No, sorry. I’m just confused. What about Hannah?”
Lance sighs, like he’s relieved I’m not as upset as he originally thought I might be. “You know she’s been working for Earth Ambassadors.” At my nod, he continues. “According to Matt, she’s having a hard time juggling working for them and running his marketing. Plus, Earth Ambassadors really wants her full time, and that’s her dream job, so Matt’s looking for someone to replace her.”
“And he wants you.”
He lifts one shoulder an inch and lets it drop. “Yeah.”
“What are your thoughts?” I ask, because I’m still not sure what mine are. But it’s even worse since I can’t read his. Is he excited by the idea? Torn? Wants to reject it outright and it would be easier if I were vocally against it from the beginning so he doesn’t make his friend mad? Well, you know how Abby is. She doesn’t like change, and security is important to her. Which is true, and would make a convenient excuse if he doesn’t really want to do this. But if he does … do I want to be responsible for holding him back?
His dark eyes search mine. “I … don’t know, actually. Part of me thinks it sounds really cool. I’d get to work with one of my best friends, and since we were teammates and roommates for years, I’m confident we can work together without wanting to kill each other. He sent me a financial overview of his company to prove that he can afford to actually pay me a salary.”
“That’s good,” I murmur.
Lance nods. “Yeah. It would be less than I’m making now, but we’ve been living off less than I make already. We have savings, and his email said as revenue increases, so would my salary.
It’s my turn to study him, catalogue all his tells. He’s cautiously optimistic about this idea. “But?” I prompt, knowing him well enough to know there’s a but. “Would you be happy spending all your time working on just one person’s marketing? Right now you handle a diverse client list, so it keeps you on your toes. Will you get bored just doing things for Matt? Why doesn’t he contract with your firm instead?”
Lance huffs out a low chuckle. “I actually thought that’s what he was asking at first. And from his reaction, that idea didn’t even occur to him.”
Actually, that seems like the best idea for me. Narrowing my eyes in thought, I drum my fingers on my lower lip. “Why doesn’t he do that, though? Doesn’t that make the most sense? Farm out the marketing to you, he still gets the peace of mind of knowing his friend’s going to do good work and not have to trust a stranger—which I completely understand, by the way—plus you don’t take a pay cut or any additional risk.” My eyes widen and I sit up straight. “Plus, if he shows up to your schmooze-and-booze networking events, he could even land new clients. It’s a win all around, isn’t it?”
Lance seems to deflate a little, and I bite my lip, worried I’ve popped his balloon accidentally. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That … actually does make the most sense.”
Yup, I really have ruined the moment. “I’m sorry. You were getting excited about working with him full time, weren’t you? And I just ruined it.”
He shoots me a reassuring smile and scootches next to me on the couch, pulling me against his side and dropping a kiss on my head. “You didn’t ruin anything. You brought your logical brain to a discussion that should be made with a clear head and not clouded by grand delusions. Part of me thinks it would be great fun to hang with Matt all the time, go with him on some of his trips, and bring you along to translate for us in the Spanish speaking places.”
I grin, envisioning that too. I have to admit, it does sound like fun. “Is there anything that says we can’t do that anyway? You suck at taking your vacation time, something I still blame on your dad, by the way. If we plan biannual week-long surf trips with Matt, that would give you an excuse to use your vacation time. Or”—I straighten—“if he becomes your client, couldn’t you use it as a work trip? I mean, you need to keep up with what he’s doing so you can make sure you still know who his ideal customer is and adequately convey the experience to them, right? Isn’t that part of the deal?”
Now he’s full on laughing. “I’ll have to bring you in to sell that to my bosses.” He pulls me back down against his chest, and I lie against him with a contented sigh. His hand skates up my back. “That’s the kind of sound I like to hear from you,” he whispers against my hair.
“I’m always happy being like this with you. You know that. If you really want to take this job, if you think you�
��ll be happier working for Matt full time rather than staying on at the Forrester Group and adding him to your client roster, then … well, we can look at what he’s offering and see what we’d need to do to make it work. If you say we can swing it, I believe you, but I’ll feel better seeing the numbers myself.”
He’s quiet for long enough that I turn over so I can look at him. His hand now rests on my belly, and he slips it beneath the hem of my top so it rests on my bare skin, but his gaze is abstract and pointed at the wall, his brows drawn together as he thinks things over. I wait, leaving him to his thoughts for now.
After several minutes tick by in silence, I rub my hand up his arm and give him a squeeze. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” I whisper. “Let’s go to bed.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Evan
Showing up for the retirement party in one of the administration building’s conference rooms takes me back down memory lane. Donor banquets where we were required to schmooze, end of season awards banquets, various departmental functions over the years, they all took place here, and just like those, this one is the standard university banquet buffet. Round tables dot the room covered in alternating white and red tablecloths—Marycliff University colors that nicely double as Christmas decor. Each table has a small pot of poinsettia in the center, either white or red to contrast with the tablecloth, and football, M, and U confetti is scattered around.
Daniel and Elena trail behind Layla and me as we walk into the room, looking around to see who else is here already. Chris and Megan are already here, and Megan waves us over to the table they’ve claimed near the front. Chris is one of the speakers during the stuffy, boring portion of the evening.
Megan’s all smiles as we approach, patting the seat next to her and saying, “Layla, sit here.”
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