Chapter 13 – Waverly
WAVERLY
Iwake up with an I slept like crap headache.
A warm palm under my shirt and flat against my belly.
And… my boss’s dick pressed right up against my ass.
Well, good morning, Mr. Wood—er Ouest. My wide eyes stare at the wall.
What do I do? What do I do?! I can’t move because any movement from this close to the edge of the bed will have me either rolling off the bed or rolling back into him. And I can’t push him away…
I could. I guess I could.
But… how? My hands are in front of me, and he’s behind me, and he said he wasn’t a cuddler!
Or a boner-ass guy. He never said that last one, but I assumed without the cuddling I wouldn’t have to feel his hard dick.
Which isn’t small. I mean, I can tell that just from the base of where it’s pressing into me to the tip of where it stops.
He wasn’t wrong about that when he said it yesterday in the car.
Holy St. Dick—er, I mean St. Nick.
That’s not to say he’s hard over me. I know he’s not. Men get erections in the morning. That’s biology. But this is—
“On a scale of one to ten, how badly are you freaking out right now?”
“Fifteen thousand,” I answer honestly.
“I thought so. I can practically hear your inner monologue.”
“Don’t judge me! Your dick is up my ass!”
He chuckles, warm and soft in my ear, and it’s just now that I notice his bare chest is against my back and his mouth is so close. How did I miss that? Oh yeah, I was too focused on the dick-ass situation.
“I can assure you, my dick is not up your ass. If it were, you wouldn’t be talking, you’d be moaning.”
Oh my fucking god! Did he just say that?! And do people actually moan from having a penis up their ass? I don’t know. I can’t speak from experience here, and that’s not the sort of porn I’ve watched. Though maybe I’ve been missing out.
“Stop your brain, Waverly. I didn’t mean to wake you up like this. It was a surprise to me too. But it’s good practice, right? We have to feel comfortable being physically intimate with each other.”
I blink at the wall. “Is that what we’re doing? Practicing?”
“Absolutely. We’re practicing our fake relationship.” His nose dives into the back of my neck and into my hair, where he takes a deep inhale that makes me shudder. “And I think it’s important we get it right.”
“You do?” I lick my lips. Why am I asking him that?
It’s his dick in my ass. Or against it. Whatever.
It’s confusing things because it’s so close to my pussy, and a hard dick hasn’t been close to anything down there in years.
Plus, his apology last night messed with my head a bit.
I could see how upset he was, and then everything he said to me after…
More confusion.
Then there’s Braxton and what I did with him yesterday. He made me come on the sofa while Tristan listened from inside this room. I let one boss make me come, and now the other has his dick sorta rubbing things and I don’t know what’s happening.
The things they’ve been saying…
His hand starts to slide up my stomach but stops at the base of my ribs just below my breasts, and I wish he didn’t do that.
It’s giving me time to reconsider, which I suppose is his point, but don’t give me time to reconsider, Tristan!
I don’t want smart, level-headed Waverly, who hates her boss right now.
I want the girl who is getting quasi-felt up by a hot guy who seemingly wants her.
Who called me the heartbeat he stopped allowing himself to have.
His lips plant into the crook of my neck, and he shifts closer to me. “I do. I think it’s so important. But more than that, I’m having a difficult time keeping my hands to myself and off your body.”
I blink and then blink again, a smile curling straight up my lips that I know he can’t see. “You are?”
“It’s impossible. You smell so good, and your skin is so soft and warm. Can I just…” Without explaining further or truly asking permission, his hand creeps up and cups my bare breast. He hisses out an expletive, and I feel his forehead plant against the back of my head.
“You okay back there?” I tease, my teeth sinking into my lip, so I don’t moan. Especially when his hand starts to knead and play with me.
“You have no idea how perfect you feel.”
“Tell me about it then.”
He laughs. It’s strained. “Waverly, you’re testing me, and I’ve just broken through the ice and plunged into certain death.”
“And freezing your balls off.”
Another strained laugh. “Yes. But shockingly I wasn’t sent to hell. This is heaven for sure. Brax was right about this.” He squeezes me, lifting it in his hand before he pinches and pulls my nipple. “Can I kiss you, Waverly?”
My eyes snap shut, and I stifle a sound. He just asked if he could kiss me. And why is that so sweet and yet sexy?
“You want to?”
A pained noise from the back of his throat vibrates into my ear. “You have no idea how much.”
He rolls me so I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me.
His black hair is sleep-mussed and tousled, and his blue eyes are dark and half-massed.
I saw him shirtless yesterday after his shower, and remembering that, I wish I had a better visual of him now.
His shoulders and arm muscles are thick and bunched, and I can’t help myself as I slide my hands up his arms to feel them.
“You’re so pretty. So achingly pretty,” he whispers, his gaze flittering around my face. “I’m going to kiss you, and I won’t be able to stop.”
“What about Braxton?”
He smirks. “This is what he wants too.”
Before I can formulate a response, or better yet, come to my senses and tell him no, his lips descend upon mine, and any argument I had cooking is ruined by the heat of his mouth and the firm press of his lips on mine.
He groans, and his hand slides up into my hair so he can tilt my head and slip his tongue inside.
It sets off something inside me, and I kiss him back, deepening it, wanting more of him.
He shifts so he’s directly over me and then on me, pressing me down into the mattress with his delicious size, heat, and weight. The thick ridge of his cock hits my mound, but I need more than that, so I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses into me, kissing me harder, moving his tongue faster as he starts to grind into me.
I moan, the sound jarring somehow, and I abruptly tear myself away. He pulls back, startled and cautious, staring wordlessly down at me as he waits for me to tell him to stop.
“This is fake, right?” I don’t know why I ask.
Maybe because this is still Tristan Ouest and Tristan Ouest is my boss and he’s paying me a lot of money and if this isn’t fake anymore then I’m in serious trouble because I think I’m starting to like him and I already like his best friend.
And at the thought of the money, I feel a bit like a whore, so…
“Uh. Is that what you want it to be?”
I nod but contradict myself as I say, “No. Not really. But also kind of yes.” Except I don’t, and I think maybe part of him can tell that since I just kissed him and spread my legs for him to dry hump me.
His eyes dip to my lips and then back up to mine.
“Right. Okay. Uh.” Flustered, he runs a hand through his hair and nods as if coming to some conclusion of his own.
“That’s a tough one to work with since I don’t want it to be that way.
How’s this? No one can know this is fake, so we have to kiss and touch, and I have to make you come at least twice so people believe this thing between us is real and natural. ”
“Great. I’m glad we’re on the same page with this.”
“One hundred percent.” His mouth slams back down on mine, not holding back as he devours me.
He groans into the kiss, his tongue tracing my lips before slipping back inside my mouth, teasing and tasting.
My hips roll against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my body and making my legs tremble.
His hands roam down my sides to cup my ass cheeks, squeezing gently over my flannel pants.
“How many fucking layers are you wearing?” He tugs on the elastic waist of my pants.
“I was sleeping in a bed with my boss!” I mutter indignantly.
“And you thought eight thousand layers would protect you?”
“Something like that.”
He grins devilishly. “How’d that work out for you?” His eyes search mine as he rolls his hips once more, the feel of him making me moan.
“Jerk.” I smack his shoulder, and he laughs, dipping down to kiss me again.
“Oh, I’ve been upgraded from asshole to jerk. Nice.” He works on sliding my pajama pants down my hips and over my thighs. “Sweatshirt and whatever else you have on underneath goes next. I need to kill two birds with one stone.”
“What?” I let out a bemused laugh as I finish kicking my pajama pants off and he works on my sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, and camisole. It’s like I can breathe again, my skin sighing at the breath of cool against it.
He climbs up to his knees, the blanket on his back, as he stares down at me, taking in every line of my chest and stomach down to the triangle covering my pussy.
I would feel self-conscious that my boss is so brazenly staring at me all but naked, but I’m too busy returning the favor, raking over every hard ridge and plane of his toned, golden skin.
He licks his lips and slides his hand up my stomach until he’s cupping my breast, his eyes glued to the motion. “Fuck, my girlfriend is sexy as hell. Like crazy, sexy hot.”
“Tristan, focus. What did you mean by two birds and one stone?”
He shakes his head as if focusing is impossible.
“Two birds. One stone. And by stone, I might be talking about my dick here, because Christ, you make me hard, but I’ve never made a girl come in my childhood bed, and that’s always been a fantasy of mine.
And the bird, I suppose, in this scenario, is you, since you’re the girl I’m about to make come. ”
“What about your parents?” I half-tease since they’re in a separate apartment upstairs.