by L. A. Witt
“I just realized I’m out of condoms.”
“Oh.” He glanced toward the bed. A flicker of uneasiness crossed his expression, but then he looked at me again and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He slid his hand over the front of my pants. “Plenty we can do without them.” In fact, as he kissed me again, he seemed even more excited and less hesitant about what we were doing. No condoms, no problem.
Any disappointment I might’ve had evaporated then and there.
Our clothes, however, steadfastly refused to do the same. Fine. I started on his belt buckle, and he went for the buttons on my camo blouse. The buckle came open easily enough, but goddamn the Navy and their insistence on button fly pants instead of zippers. Normally I could have them open in a heartbeat, but when I was turned on, dizzy, out of breath, desperate to have Travis’s hands on me? Christ, someone might as well have sewn in cipher locks and retina scanners.
“Fucking . . .” he growled softly, and a button on my shirt let go. Snapped off, maybe, but it could be sewn back on. Just . . . not now.
A second later, the last button on his trousers gave too. That one might’ve also snapped off. Whatever. I was one button closer to his skin. That was all I cared about.
Finally, we’d pushed enough clothes out of the way, and I closed my fingers around his thick erection. He groaned as he did the same to mine. Kissing. Panting. Stroking. Hadn’t we just been coworkers earlier? Didn’t matter—he was in my bedroom now, and he probably had no idea how many of my fantasies were all coming true at once.
I pressed him up against the wall, leaving barely enough room between our hips for our hands to move, and kissed him so hard I caught my lip between our teeth. It smarted, making my eyes water, and I broke the kiss, but Travis didn’t miss a beat. He went right for my neck again. Shit. Soft lips and coarse five-o’clock shadow brushing my throat—so worth that momentary sting.
While he kissed from my jaw to my collarbone and back, I ran my hands all over him. His body was . . . fuck, he was hot. I hadn’t even seen him naked—yet—but feeling his narrow waist and powerful shoulders while I stroked him with the other was driving me insane.
Abruptly, he turned me around, and now I was the one backed up against the wall. He kissed me, nudged my hand away from his cock, and then murmured, “Don’t move.”
“Don’t—”
Just like that, he was on his knees, and my dick was between his lips, and moving wasn’t an option anymore.
I blinked my tear-blurred eyes into focus, and . . . God in heaven. The sight of Travis like that—kneeling in a half-removed blue digicam uniform with a hand on my hip and the other steadying my cock as he took me into his mouth again and again—was insane. There was hot, there was sexy, and there was this.
He’d told me not to move, but I assumed that meant not to move away. Which meant rocking my hips was still fair game. And, hell, even if he hadn’t meant it that way, I wasn’t sure I could’ve stayed still if I’d tried. All I wanted was to fuck his talented mouth, and oh yes, he was complementing my motions perfectly. Complementing me and urging me on until I must’ve been pushing his gag reflex, and he egged me on anyway.
“Shit.” I clawed at the walls as if I might find something to hold on to. He didn’t let up. His tongue teased every nerve ending from the base of my cock to the tip, and then he moaned like he was as turned on as I was, and the mere thought of reciprocating—the thought of him fucking my mouth like I was fucking his—sent a shudder right through me, curling my toes inside my boots.
A flash of panic surged through me as I remembered people before him saying, “Warn me before you come,” and I had just enough presence of mind to groan, “Gonna come,” and then there was no gonna about it.
My whole body jolted with the force of my orgasm. My knees forgot what they were doing, and only the wall kept me from collapsing. I distantly heard myself moaning and cursing. As I came back down, I was dizzy and delirious, the whole room spinning around me as the floor shifted under my feet. My throat was vaguely raw, like I’d cried out a lot louder than I’d realized.
Should probably slip apology notes into my neighbors’ mailboxes tomorrow.
My own dumb thought made me laugh like I was drunk.
Travis rose, wincing slightly. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I . . .” I shook my head as I grabbed his belt and pulled him to me. “Nothing.”
He must’ve accepted that, because he didn’t resist when I kissed him.
His erection pressed against my hip. Oh, that needed some attention, didn’t it? Which meant it was my turn to get on my knees, and once my legs stopped trembling enough that I could trust them, I gently pushed him back and knelt at his feet.
Before I’d even taken his cock between my lips, his fingers were in my hair, sending goose bumps from my scalp down the length of my spine. He didn’t use any force, didn’t try to choke me, so I didn’t mind the contact. And when I did start going to town on him, the way his fingers twitched whenever he moaned or shivered was incredibly hot.
We couldn’t fuck tonight? No problem. I was more than content to listen to him swear and gasp while I sucked his cock.
“Jesus, you’re good at that,” he ground out, kneading my scalp. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.” His fingernails dug in, and he pulled enough to sting. If he did that while he was being blown, I could only imagine how much he’d do it while he was fucking or being fucked, and thinking about that damn near got me hard again. I stroked him faster and teased him relentlessly with my tongue, and he rewarded every motion—sometimes with a moan, sometimes a catch of his breath, sometimes a tighter grip on my hair.
“Oh shit,” he breathed. He rocked his hips like I’d done earlier, pushing himself into my mouth. “You’re gonna . . . Oh God, don’t stop, don’t . . .”
Stop? Not a chance. I gave him everything I had, ignoring the ache in my jaw and my elbow.
Then his breath caught.
His whole body tensed.
And, holy shit, if my orgasm hadn’t disturbed the neighbors, his definitely did. I kept right on licking and stroking him so he’d be even louder—I loved, loved, loved the sounds he made as he came in my mouth.
I cannot wait to hear what you sound like when we fuck.
He shuddered one last time and gently nudged my forehead. I stopped, rocking back on my heels, and he looked down at me with the sexiest, most blissed-out grin I’d ever seen.
“I think . . .” He licked his lips and shivered again. “I think we might have to make a habit of this.”
I rose. “I am completely on board with that.”
“Good.” He tugged me in by the belt loops. “Because you’re fucking addictive.” His kiss cut off any response I might’ve had, but hopefully the message came through loud and clear—so are you.
Eventually, we pulled apart, and finally, we unlaced our boots, kicked them off, and dropped the rest of our clothes on the floor. On our sides, facing each other in the middle of the bed, we kissed lazily. I ran my hands all over his skin, and for the longest time, we lay there, kissing occasionally while we enjoyed the afterglow. All the while, two orgasms and a million kisses into this, and I was still marveling that Travis was naked beside me. He was even hotter in reality than he’d been in my fantasies too. He wasn’t perfect—who was?—but he was gorgeous. The other night, I’d had a sneak peek at his narrow waist and broad shoulders thanks to the cut of his dress uniform, and they were not a disappointment on their own.
There were some scars on his chest and abs, and I was pretty sure I’d felt a few on his back. Hard to say where they’d come from—I guessed either from surgery or some nasty gashes that had been stitched—but the most surprising thing about seeing him naked was his lack of ink. It was rare to find someone, even an officer, who’d been in the military this long and didn’t have at least one tattoo. One that usually came with a story that started with “Me and my buddies were in port and got shitfaced . . .”
&n
bsp; I suspected the scars had some stories attached to them, but with someone in the military, things like that could be an emotional minefield. I’d leave it to him to open up about those.
After a while, Travis sat up, rolling his shoulders stiffly. “Damn. It’s definitely getting late now.” He turned to me with an apologetic grimace. “I should probably go.”
“Okay.” I sat up beside him. “I’ll, um, see you at the office tomorrow?”
He smiled a little, nodded, and kissed me softly.
He was leaving? No, no, no. With his body against mine like this, I wasn’t ready for him to get out of my bed. I met his gaze and licked my lips. “You don’t have to leave quite yet, do you?”
“Well—”
I slid my hand over his naked thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as a shiver went through him. Mission accomplished.
“I could . . .” He swallowed, then looked at me. “I could probably stay awhile longer.”
I grinned, moving my hand higher. “I’ll make it worth your time.”
Travis wrapped his arms around me, and just before he kissed me, murmured, “I don’t doubt that in the slightest.”
The next morning, I sent off some emails to my subordinates and long-winded, tedious reports to my upper chain of command. Same shit, different day.
The whole time, though, I was grinning like a fool. Normally, I’d be cursing under my breath and mentally putting hexes on the micromanaging assholes above me, but I let their stupidity slide today.
I hadn’t seen Clint around the office yet, but that wasn’t too surprising. It was only ten o’clock, and according to the whiteboard in the hall, he was teaching some early classes downstairs, so he wouldn’t be around the office much before eleven or so. That was pretty normal, and probably not a bad thing if I had any hope of accomplishing anything today. We had lunch plans anyway, so I’d see him soon enough.
There was no such thing as soon enough, though. Now that I’d been in his bed, I couldn’t get him out of my head. Okay, so I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head anyway, but now he’d taken over completely.
Had all that really happened? I’d imagined the whole thing, right? It’d just been a dream—a good one, for once—that was so vivid and hot, I’d convinced myself it was real.
Except I could still feel enough to know it had been very, very real. My chin and throat were a little raw from some stubble burn. My lips were faintly tender after getting some long overdue attention, and giving some to Clint’s cock. There was also some tightness between my shoulders that had started in the car outside his apartment. Twisting around in the seat so I could make out with him had been worth it in the moment—was still worth it in hindsight—but I was paying for it now.
I regret nothing.
That thought made me chuckle to myself. Like I was a teenager who should’ve felt guilty for sneaking off and parking with someone. No, nothing but a horny old dude who’d need a few extra Motrin today and had fortunately not forgotten his TENS unit.
As I adjusted the TENS unit’s intensity for the hundredth time, my good spirits faded. Last night had been hot, but there was no mistaking that I’d gotten damn lucky. The planets had aligned, and when I’d gone to bed with Clint, my pain had been relatively mild. I’d also dodged a bullet—he’d been out of condoms, and I hadn’t brought any. Anything beyond handjobs and blowjobs had been off the table. I was perfectly content with that much anyway, but it was always a gamble with a new guy.
A lot of guys could take or leave anal, and I’d been with a few of them. But even those who were indifferent about it—or outright hated it—didn’t usually stick around after the “I can’t do it” conversation. That always seemed to be the moment they realized sex with me meant a whole lot of limitations. No getting rough. No throwing each other around. No swinging from the chandeliers or trying out crazy sixty-nine positions.
Anal, they could do without. Realizing we’d be fooling around on eggshells because of my back?
“I need more than this.”
“I’m always afraid I’ll hurt you, so it’s not fun for me.”
“Man, I’m sorry—it’s boring!”
I sighed, absently thumbing the dial on the TENS controller. Last night, Clint had shrugged things off and seemed satisfied with what we’d done. Question was, how long could the novelty of someone new gloss over anything that was lacking? How many nights could I stretch that novelty before Clint decided I was more trouble than I was worth? What would he think when he realized that one-time restriction was actually this time, every time, and any time we touched in the future?
I shook my head and shifted my attention to some of the work I’d been ignoring all morning. Tried to, anyway. I just couldn’t shake the worry—the certainty—that Clint was in for a disappointment when we made it into the bedroom a second time.
At least we’d had some of that painfully sexy kissing and frantic dick-sucking. Even if that was as far as things ever went, I could live with it. And if we continued hooking up . . . well, I hoped his expectations weren’t too high.
Guess I’ll find out, won’t I?
Classes must’ve ended, because the activity outside my door was steadily ramping up. Boots on the floor. People talking. I could always tell when the instructors had come back from teaching because even the most soft-spoken among them couldn’t seem to shut off the “teacher voice.” Normally, that annoyed the shit out of me. Nothing made me feel like I was running a daycare more than having to remind grown-ass adults to use their inside voices.
Today, it didn’t bother me.
Because Clint was one of them.
And every time I heard him outside my office, I forgot what I was doing. Which also should have annoyed me, but I couldn’t help grinning whenever I broke out in goose bumps at the sound of his voice. If anything, I wanted to call him into my office, shut the door, and make him do something about this hard-on that he was completely responsible for.
Someone knocked at my door.
“Come in.”
When it opened . . .
Ah, speak of the Devil.
“Hey.” His eyes met mine, and no, I had not imagined last night any more than I was imagining that playful, mischievous gleam. “You busy?”
Busy doing absolutely nothing except thinking about what you look like naked.
I cleared my throat. “No, come on in.”
As he closed my office door behind him, I got up and came around my desk. “You do know that being in here behind closed doors is tempting as all hell, right?”
“I do.” He stepped closer and grinned as he reached for my waist. “Why do you think I closed the door?”
“You devious bastard.”
“Mm-hmm.” And with that, he kissed me. We both stumbled a bit, but he pushed me up against my desk and held me there. In the short time that I’d known him, Clint had struck me as being on the shy side, so this boldness was amazingly sexy. Yesterday he’d gone from barely being able to look me in the eye to pulling me into a kiss in the car. Today he’d come into my office, and now he was kissing me like there was absolutely no reason not to.
And as I ran my fingers through his hair and cupped his ass with my other hand, I couldn’t think of one.
Outside, some voices and footsteps went by, and we both glanced toward the door. When he looked at me again, Clint asked, “Think anyone’s caught on?”
I laughed and squeezed his ass. “Well, we did leave the O Club together, but no one’s said a word to me.”
“Me neither.”
“What they don’t know . . .”
“Mm-hmm.” He kissed me again, rubbing his hard-on against my hip. Abruptly, though, he tensed up. Didn’t stop, but definitely tensed up. “I should go,” he murmured between kisses. “Got . . . some more classes . . .”
“Me too.” I tugged his hair back and kissed his neck. “We still on for lunch?”
“Are you kidding? Of course we are.”
“I would hope so.” I nipped his neck, then lifted my head. “You have any plans for tonight?”
“I think I just made some.”
“Good.”
“My place?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Perfect.” He paused. “Jesus, this is all I’ve been able to think about since last night.”
My knees wobbled. “Me too.” I met his gaze and struggled to catch my breath.
He licked his lips. “In fact, forget lunch.”
My heart stopped. “Huh?”
“If we both work through lunch, we can bust out of here early.” His filthy grin fucked with my equilibrium. “Then we’ve got the whole evening.”
“Oh, I like the way you think.” I ran my hands along his belt.
“But . . . right now . . .”
“You’ve got classes . . .”
“They can wait.” He hesitated. “Except I should still . . .”
“We should . . .”
I kissed him, and should didn’t really matter anymore. He kept me pinned against the desk, and I held on to his blouse to keep him from going anywhere. This was too hot to stop, so . . . to hell with it. And as a bonus, my back was still behaving. With a little luck, that wouldn’t change. I did not need that bucket of cold water when I had my hands all over Clint.
I pulled Clint closer and ran my boot up the inside of his leg.
“Keep that up,” he growled, “and we’re not going to get out of here.”
“That right?”
“Mm-hmm.” He put his hands on my thighs and leaned down until his lips almost met mine. “Not that I mind. I am kind of curious to see what happens if we get stuck here.”
“You dirty bastard.” Still holding the front of his uniform, I pulled him down and myself up, and my lips grazed his as I murmured, “We should definitely get out of here.”
“I agree.” And he kissed me.
I sat up, tilting my head and parting my lips as I slid my hand around the back of his neck.
Back—stay happy.
Coworkers—stay out.
Or at least knock. Please, for the love of God, don’t let this be the day they forget to knock.