by Aly Martinez
“It was nice to almost have sex with you, Evan.”
I barked a laugh then watched her door close. When I heard the deadbolt, I dashed toward the elevator, shaking my head at the entire interaction.
The shower in the second bedroom was running when I got back to my suite. I was thrilled Henry hadn’t left, but I was nervous about talking to him. He deserved an apology too, but I had the feeling it wasn’t going to be as simple as it had been with Jessica.
Henry was incredible. Magnetic, really. It was hard not to want him. But the fact remained—I didn’t have anything to give. If he hadn’t been my boss, I would have taken the coward’s way out, cutting my losses and avoiding him completely. That wasn’t an option though.
The incendiary spark I felt for Henry needed to be extinguished before it had the chance to explode.
I paced a path in front of the bedroom door, waiting for him to emerge.
And emerge he did, dripping wet and in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Drops of water glistened on his tan skin.
He froze when he saw me. Surprise and excitement passed over his face, but they quickly faded, leaving nothing but bitterness behind.
We spoke at the same time.
“You have a quickie?”
“Are you okay?”
The latter was me.
We responded at the same time too.
“What?”
“I’m fantastic.”
I didn’t believe him. Sure, he looked edible—but not fantastic. He was hurting, and just from looking at him, I felt the echo of his pain.
“Henry—”
“She kick you out?”
I had to clear the lump from my throat before I could answer. “Who?”
“Jessica,” he spat.
My head snapped back at his accusation. “What? No! I just went to make sure she got back to her room, Henry. Nothing happened.”
He rolled his eyes, walking to the snack basket he’d bought me. “It’s okay, Evan. I get it.”
He got it? Thank fucking God, because I sure as hell didn’t get it. I had no idea why I felt as though I were constantly fighting a maelstrom of physical desperation every time he walked into a room. I didn’t understand how, after all these years of avoiding men, I was suddenly enamored by one I barely even knew. I didn’t understand how he had enraptured me with a single stare from across a crowded arena. I didn’t know why the heat from his flames consumed me like never before. I didn’t know why my mind was screaming at me to run as far away as I could, but my body absolutely refused. I didn’t know why I’d felt his pain in the limo as he’d admitted he was gay as if he had been coming out for the very first time. I didn’t know why I was still standing in that room with him when I was positive this was going to be a disaster.
But, if he held the answers to even one of those questions, I needed to know too.
I grabbed his bicep and pulled him until his shoulder hit my chest. “You get what, Henry?”
Shock registered in his eyes. “Um…I just meant, if you did want Jessica, I’d get it.”
“I don’t.” The words shot from my mouth like an involuntary reflex.
I didn’t understand that, either.
“Fuck!” I shouted in frustration.
After reluctantly releasing him, I locked my fingers and rested them on the top of my head.
“Evan?”
Evan. It was like a feather down my spine.
I closed my eyes and painfully whispered, “Please don’t say my name.”
His hand cupped the back of my neck. “Okay, then, Maverick. Tell me what’s going on.”
I sighed at the horrible nickname and opened my eyes. His plump bottom lip was the first thing that came into my view.
“I wish I could, Henry.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Whatever it is, I can promise you I’ll understand. I’m betting I even feel the same way.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “All you have to do is just say the words and I’ll make it happen. Whatever it is.”
But saying it aloud was something I was nowhere near ready for. I couldn’t admit why I’d made all of those impossible rules and promises to myself after Shannon had left. No more than I could forget why I’d made them in the first place.
The memories sliced through me. Not again. No fucking way.
“Tonight shouldn’t have happened,” I lied, the words feeling like razorblades coming from my mouth. “It was entirely unprofessional of me.”
“Unprofessional?” He leaned away, obviously confused by my sudden switch.
“You’re my boss. And I crossed the line.”
His hands fell away. “What the hell are you talking about? Evan, I drew that line, and I invited you to cross it. I’ve already told you your job is safe. Drop the professional shit.”
“Okay. Sorry. Consider it dropped. All of it. I’m just gonna go to bed now. You can let yourself out. Thanks again for a truly unforgettable experience.”
I meant the royal treatment at the concert, the lavish hotel, the limo, and the gift baskets. But deep down, I was thanking him for reminding me that fire still existed in the world.
He actually stumbled back a step before recovering. “Ah, yes. The experience.” He dropped his voice, but the whisper did nothing to hide his dejection. “You’re welcome, Evan.” Turning toward the bar, he gave me his back.
That was the end. I’d apologized, and now, I just needed to make my getaway.
And, as soon as we got home, I needed to start job-hunting immediately.
But, regardless of what I told myself, my feet wouldn’t move.
My hands wouldn’t stop aching for him.
My mouth still craved his.
My eyes couldn’t even look away from his back.
Walk away.
I took a step toward him.
Jesus Christ. Go to fucking bed.
Another step.
The pounding of my heart probably could have been heard from across the room. And the closer I got, the more I could feel the heat of his fire searing my skin.
You know how this will end. There won’t even be enough of you left to identify the body.
Another step.
It could be strictly physical. That’s probably all he wants anyway. Where’s the harm in casual sex? Shannon, you dumbass. That is the harm in casual sex.
Another step.
He must have felt me. “Jesus Christ, what now?” he snapped, turning to face me.
I was only inches away.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Evan,” I prompted. “Say it.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to catch pneumonia if you go from hot to cold one more time.”
But what Henry couldn’t possibly know was that there was nothing cold about me when it came to him. No matter how hard I tried to fake it.
My head was still a jumbled mess, but my body had finally won the tug-of-war.
Closing the last step of distance between us, I loomed over him. “Repeat the question, and use my name this time.”
His head tipped back to maintain eye contact, and a new confidence transformed his voice. “What are you doing, Evan?”
“I have no fucking idea. Probably making some really bad career decisions.”
A smile split his mouth as he swayed toward me, bringing his chest to mine. “Your job”—he brushed his nose against mine—“is safe. Stop talking about it and tell me how long I have until the ice storm hits again.”
My lips twitched. “At least until the sun comes up.”
“Then we better get busy.” He winked.
Nerves surged in my stomach, but I dipped my chin in a nod.
He immediately found the hem of my shirt and peeled it over my head, groaning as he visually fondled my every muscle. “Christ. Your fucking body.”
“Evan,” I reminded.
He smirked, sweeping his lips across mine before breathing, “Evan.”
That was
all it took. I crushed my mouth to his. And, this time, I knew I wouldn’t be stopping.
Tangling my fingers in the back of his hair, I gave it a tug to tip his head back. “What are you doing to me?” I asked, moving my assault to his neck, nipping and biting as I trailed down to his shoulder.
He took a step forward, backing me toward the couch. “Everything. Repeatedly.”
I gave his hair a pointed yank and gripped his jaw so he had no choice but to look me in the eyes. “I’m serious.”
He pressed against my chest, backing me toward the couch. “So am I. Now, sit.”
Unmoving, I glared my reminder.
“Oh, right. Evan.”
I collapsed onto the couch, watching intently as his hand slowly made it down to the tent at the front of his towel. He rubbed his hidden length, and I felt it as though it were my own.
“I should warn you, Evan. My balls might be purple after the torture you’ve put me through tonight.”
The corner of my mouth twitched.
He licked his lips in response. “I fucking love when your lips do that, but it’s only making things…harder.” With one flick of his wrist, his towel was gone. His heavy erection bobbed before he caught the shaft and gave it a quick tug.
My body thrummed and my mouth watered to taste him, but that was one rule I wasn’t okay with breaking. At least, not yet.
He jutted his chin toward the raging hard-on battling for a way out of my pants. “Your turn.”
My gaze lifted from his hand slowly sliding up his steely rod and caught the victorious glint dancing in his eyes. I was in way over my head. I could feel it in my bones. My need and desire for him made me completely out of control.
“Casual sex. Nothing more,” I said, doing my best to ignore his arm pumping in my peripheral vision.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Works for me.”
Shit. Why does that hurt? Yet another thing I didn’t understand.
I was going to need more protection—more rules.
“You don’t fuck me.” I moved my hands down to hover over my button, waiting for his confirmation.
He frowned. “Not even in the mouth?”
“Not at all.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “Are your rules done? Can you please just get naked and be easy for once.”
My lips twitched in response to his eagerness. Suddenly, I was in the mood to be easy too.
Pushing to my feet, I crowded his space. And then I uttered the four words I hadn’t said to a man in almost a decade.
“Get on your knees.”
I REALLY WAS a whore, because my knees hit the floor before the final syllable had cleared his lips. Just as quickly, my hands were at his zipper, and then I was pushing his pants down his thighs until his all-but-concrete dick popped free.
He hadn’t even stepped out of his jeans before I wrapped my mouth around the head.
“Fuck,” he groaned, threading his fingers into the top of my hair.
I circled my fingers around his substantial shaft and slid him from my mouth. I desperately wanted to see what I was working with. I’d been staring at the sizable bulge in his pants for most of the night. He was large. It perfectly fit his massive frame. I might have had him on length, but I paled in comparison to his girth.
I glanced up, fully expecting his eyes to be closed, as I slid him back into my mouth. Straight guys rarely turned a blowie down, but they didn’t like to watch. Not Evan though. He was staring down at me with feral intensity brewing in the depths of his blue eyes.
He wanted a show, and luckily, I loved to perform.
I released him from my mouth and jerked several fast strokes, twisting and tugging until a bead of precome appeared—fucking perfection glistening on the tip. Then I held his gaze as I laved it with my tongue, moaning when the saltiness registered on my taste buds.
His fingers tensed in my hair, halting any further movement.
I couldn’t stop now, no matter what kind of second thoughts he was having.
“Just let me do this, Evan. I swear it—”
“Oh, I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to give myself a second so I don’t blow my load on stroke number three.” He smiled down at me and finished with, “Henry.”
I could have blown my load without a single touch for no other reason than he used my name.
He might have been confused and fighting it. But he was still with me. It wasn’t a woman he was imagining at his feet. It was me. And, for that reason, I was going to give him the best blow job of his life—one he would still remember as he took his last breath.
Because, with just one simple word, he’d given that to me too.
Sliding him as deep as I could, I began working him with newfound fervor. I alternated between fast and hard, fisting his cock and sucking the head to the point I was sure it toed the fine line between pain and ecstasy. When I felt his shaft swell with impending release, I let up, switching to slow and soft. My tongue circled his angry crown before tracing up the vein running from base to tip. Squeezing on each upstroke, I forced more of his arousal from his slit.
Each time, I sought his gaze before lazily licking it off.
And, each time, Evan would reward me with something different.
“Henry,” he whispered.
“Henry,” he groaned.
“Henry,” he cursed.
“Henry,” he cried.
My name filled his every emotion.
And that filled me in places I hadn’t known were empty.
When his legs began to shake, I slowly inched him back toward the couch then lowered my attention to the sensitive flesh just under his heavy sac—flicking it with my tongue. His knees buckled on contact, sending him crashing down. I gave him exactly zero seconds to recover before resuming my assault.
It didn’t take long before his hips were bucking into my mouth. His hand remained in my hair, pumping my head into a rhythm I could tell he both loved and hated.
Loved because it guided him to release.
Hated because it guided him toward the end.
“Wait, Henry. Stop. I’m gonna…” He trailed off, but when I didn’t let up, he finished the sentence in my mouth. His cock twitched violently as he painted my tongue white.
Squirming under me, he cussed as I milked him with my hand and my mouth, sucking and squeezing until I was positive he had nothing left to give.
And then I swallowed every last drop.
Usually, one of two things happened after a man came in another man’s mouth for the first time:
His entire body would go limp as he basked in the glory of an in-fucking-sane orgasm. Feeling as though his very life had been sucked out of him through his dick.
Or…
Without the sexual need calling the shots, he’d fly from the couch in absolute horror at the realization of what he’d done.
And, as I sat between Evan’s legs, his breathing still labored from the simple yet overwhelming exertion of coming, I’d never been more afraid of a reaction in my life.
“Henry,” he rasped, his voice thick.
I kept my eyes aimed at the floor as I rocked back onto my heels, allowing him space to make his getaway.
My heart thundered in my chest.
“Henry,” he repeated a little louder.
I couldn’t do it though. I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t handle the or. Not from him.
He pressed two of his fingers under my chin, stripping me of my choice while guiding my gaze to his.
Soft, blue eyes searched my face. They were pensive. Nervous, even. But they weren’t angry or filled with disgust. And, most importantly, they held not a single ounce of regret. My heart soared to altitudes that had never before been reached.
“We’re gonna need to take care of that,” he said.
The high was still so intoxicating that I barely understood him. My mind was spinning. I had no idea what “that” he was referring to, but I didn’t actually care either. Not when he was stil
l staring at me from a cool cruising altitude—the spiral down nowhere in sight.
“Henry. ” He snapped his fingers.
“Huh?” I said, shaking my stupor off.
He chuckled then repeated, “We’re gonna to need to take care of that.”
This time, I followed the direction of his finger as he pointed down at my erection, which was still throbbing between my legs.
“Oh,” I breathed, but little homemade paper banners dropped in my mind. They all read: O-motherfucking-h.
“No fucking me,” he reminded.
The celebratory banners in my head rolled back up.
I nodded and waved him off. “No. I understand. Don’t worry about…that.”
He tilted his head and leveled me with a don’t-be-a-dumbass glare.
I quickly corrected. “I mean…uh… Worry about it, then.”
That.
Fucking.
Lip.
Twitch.
He bent down, removing his jeans and his boxer briefs from around his ankles, and then unfolded from the couch. “Shower,” he grunted as he strode past me.
I blatantly ogled his round ass as he padded away.
Shower? I’m sorry. Say what?
Was that an invitation or an informative statement of his activity?
I blinked at the bedroom door when I heard the faucet squeak and the water begin falling. Was I supposed to follow him? It was going to be awkward as hell if I strolled up on him, offering to wash his unreachables, only for him to kick me out.
On the other hand, I sure as shit didn’t want to miss the opportunity of a lifetime for him to take care of “that” in the shower if that was what he meant.
I was torn. Caught between an embarrassing rock and a soapy hand job.
“Hurry up and get your ass in here. I need to get to bed. I have a plane to fly tomorrow,” he shouted.
Oh.
My.
God.
I didn’t say that though.
What I did do was jump to my feet and sprint my ass to that shower.
The moment I rounded the corner and entered the bathroom, our bodies collided. Evan roughly took my mouth in a scorching kiss while dragging me into the shower. Water rained down on our faces, to the point that it was difficult to breathe, but I was willing to drown before I’d break that kiss.