12. Weston
Twelve
Weston
L ena’s eyes spark with defiance, her chin raising an inch into the air. She’s getting all pumped up, ready to argue with me for the sake of it, but I spread a palm over her chest before she can speak and press her gently down to the desk.
“Oof. Weston!”
Dark tresses of hair splay out on my desk, and Lena’s gaze darts around my office ceiling. She’s tense and untrusting still, even now as I sink into my desk chair and move it closer. Even as I place steadying hands on her bare thighs. Her skin is warm satin.
“Relax,” I murmur, stroking with my thumbs. “You can trust me, Lena.”
She scoffs, but wiggles closer to the edge. Atta girl.
“I won’t do this if you don’t want me to.” The gray fabric of her dress is slippery and soft, pooling over her thighs as I place her feet one by one on my arm rests. Her heels look wickedly sharp—a warning.
“Lena?” I wait for her to meet my eyes. She looks so out of her depth, my chest aches. “You can say no to this. You can always refuse. But just know… if you let me, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good. I’m going to make you sing for me, baby.”
It’s the pet name, more than anything, that settles her. Not the P-word, but baby. A name for someone you love and treasure.
Lena wets her lips and gives a small nod. “Okay,” she rasps.
I inhale deeply. My heart drums.
Then I press her thighs wider and flip her dress up onto her hips. A triangle of dark purple silk greets me, with a damp spot already growing.
I bite back a groan.
“There you are.” Lena shivers as my fingertip runs along the edge of her panties, hooking beneath the fabric. Teasing her. Teasing both of us. “Can I keep these too?”
“What?” Lena sounds startled, propping up on one elbow to glare at me. “No! Lingerie is expensive, you dirty big thief.”
She cuts off when she sees me grinning at her. Lowering down, I puff out a warm breath against the damp spot on her panties. Just like that, color climbs up her throat, and Lena bites her lip and squirms against the desk. My chair creaks as she kicks against it.
“No offense,” I say, straightening up to take her high heels off one by one, dropping them on the floor next to my desk. “But I don’t want a stiletto speared through my femoral artery. And I am going to make you thrash.”
“Promises, promises,” she says.
Lena’s eyes widen as I place my hands on the delicate bones of her ankles, then stroke my way up her calves, her knees, her thighs. Her legs tremble beneath my touch, and her skin is smooth and flawless, all the way up to where my thumbs meet the edges of her panties once more.
Was it really only yesterday that I touched her like this? That I got my hands on her for the first time?
It feels like a thousand years ago. Like I’ve waited a whole millennium to do it again.
“So fucking beautiful,” I grind out, rubbing the mound of her pussy through the purple silk. Lena bucks and moans, her damp spot growing. The heat of her down here… Christ, I can’t wait to get inside her. It’ll be like sliding into a hot bath. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. That used to make me so bitter and angry, but it doesn’t anymore, Lena. Do you know why?”
She shakes her head, pupils blown wide.
“Because you’re mine. ” My thumb slips beneath the fabric, stroking her slick core. The temperature climbs between us, until we’re sure to fog up the office windows.
“Just because I let you touch me, that doesn’t mean I’m yours,” Lena points out. It’s a reasonable argument, but she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself too.
“I know.” My thumb dips inside her, just to the first knuckle. We both suck in sharp breaths. “I do know that, baby. I need to earn you, and I will.”
Lena bites her lip—hard.
And I keep talking to her in a low, gravelly voice, even as I peel her panties down her thighs and set them on the desk. Even as I stroke between her legs, teasing her pussy until she’s glistening and plump, visibly aching for me. All that time, I tell Lena about how wrong I’ve been.
I should never have been so bitter and resentful toward her. Even if she didn’t want me back, it’s not like my feelings were her responsibility. That was shitty of me. I see that now.
And I never should have assumed that she was just like her parents: spoiled and entitled and rude. I read her all wrong, and if I’d seen her clearer before, we could have had so much more time together. That’s a regret that will haunt me forever.
On and on, I list all my mistakes, baring my soul to my rapt audience where she gasps and moans beneath my touch. I confess all the weak, shady, shitty parts of myself, hoping against hope that Lena will hear me. That she will accept this vulnerability as the offering it is, rather than use it against me.
I’ve never shown anyone else this side of me. The soft underbelly.
I’ve never tried to trust someone before. Not gonna lie—my body does not feel good right now. I’m light-headed, queasy, and there’s a sharp stabbing pain in my gut. Every instinct is screaming at me to stop, to armor up again, but I ignore them all for her.
For Lena.
My pulse thuds in my ears as I lean down to her slit. There’s a gasp above me, and fingers weave through my hair, holding on tight as I press a kiss on her mound.
“Let me show you,” I say, words humming against her clit. Lena sighs and rocks her hips up. “Let me show you how I feel.”
“Weston,” she gasps.
Then it’s on.
I start with a broad lick up her slit, tasting the salty tang there. My stomach growls in triumph, and I press my face even closer—then devour her pussy like a starving man.
Every lick and suck and nibble is a balm to my bruised soul. Every time Lena gasps and moans and tugs on my hair, some injured piece of me is soothed.
A sheen of her slick coats my cheeks and chin. Her thighs keep tensing, clamping around my ears and muffling all sound until all I can hear is the fevered thud of my own pulse. Her fingernails scratch at my scalp, sending little zings of pleasure down my spine.
And all the while, I pour my fucking heart and soul into the task—trying to prove to Lena Merritt through my worship of her body that I’m hers. That I’ll always be hers. She can trust me; she can take the leap.
“So perfect,” I say, pressing the words against her slick folds. Lena jumps a little, then shifts her thighs so they’re slung over my shoulders. “You’re so fucking perfect, Lena. You have no idea.”
“I’m starting to get the vibe,” she says weakly, and when I raise my flushed face to meet her eyes, she offers a wobbly smile.
Yes.
Holding her gaze, I press two fingers inside her.
“Oh!” Lena’s hips jerk up, her abs clenching beneath her dress, but she’s slick enough to take my fingers easily. “Oh, god.”
Lowering my head, I start lapping at her clit steadily, pumping my fingers in and out of her channel. Stroking at her sensitive inner walls and making Lena pant and writhe. Her body tightens and goes stiff, fighting the pleasure rising inside her, but I keep lapping and thrusting, ignoring the crick in my neck. Ignoring everything but the pained, desperate noises above me.
Let go, I want to tell her, but my mouth is busy. Maybe Lena can read my mind, because a few seconds later, she falls apart with a surprised squeak.
Triumph flares in my brain, but I keep licking and stroking my girl until every wave of pleasure has shuddered through her body, and she slumps exhausted down on my desk.
No rest for the wicked. Nudging Lena’s thighs off my shoulders, I stand and work my belt loose, stepping between her flushed legs. Her slick is everywhere , glossy in the lamplight. Out of the windows, the city lights glitter.
“Lena. Baby.”
She blinks up at me, groggy, then her clever eyes sharpen. Lena Merritt sits up straight on the desk, grips two handfuls of my shirt for balance, and gives a brisk nod. “Do it. Fuck me.”
“Say you’re mine first.”
It’s a gamble, and I hold my breath until she answers. If she still doubts me after all this… if nothing I do or say convinces Lena of how I feel… despair hollows my gut at the thought.
But Lena rolls her eyes and says those precious words. “I’m yours, you big jerk.”
Thank Christ. Her thighs flex around my hips, soft and inviting, but I’m not done yet.
“Say you’ll stay with me for more than five nights. Say you’ll stay with me forever.”
Lena’s eyes go wide, but she nods again, more eager this time. Like she can hardly believe what I’m asking of her. “I will.”
Reaching between us, I notch the head of my cock at her entrance. Her slick, tight heat calls to me, tempting me inside her perfect body, but I grit my jaw and focus. One more promise, and then I can let go.
“Say you’ll marry me. Say we’ll love each other and grow old together and have overly-argumentative babies. Say it, Lena.”
Her nails dig into my chest as she clutches harder at my shirt. Lena Merritt, the woman I wanted and resented in equal measure for so long, stares up at me with something fragile on her beautiful face. Something precious.
Trust.
And hope. And longing.
“I will,” she whispers. “ We will.” Her breath hitches as I press forward, entering her body inch by slow inch. And Lena rolls her hips, cheeks flushed at how good it feels, but she keeps staring up at me all the while. “Oh god, Weston. Are you sure?”
Am I sure?
My jaw grits, and I thrust forward fully, burying myself to the hilt in Lena’s slick heat. Sealing our bodies together as close as they can humanly go. That’s how sure I am.
“Of course I’m fucking sure.” Okay, I sound pissed off now, but it’s a return to form. Lena hears it too, because she lights up at the challenge. “You think I could live without you, Lena? You think I could change my mind about the only person I’ve ever loved? Don’t be an idiot. You’re better than that.”
Her laugh is smoky. Blissful. She digs her nails into my chest—on purpose, this time. “Prick.”
“Cocktease.”
“Neanderthal.”
We trade insults as I thrust, our hips slamming together in the quiet office, and to anyone else’s ears, it might sound like we hate each other. But people who hate each other don’t cling on for dear life, like parting would be physically painful. Real enemies don’t sigh into each other’s mouths, and nip at each other’s throats, and swap whispered declarations of love between insults.
“Mine,” I pant, grinding my hips in slow circles. Lena’s getting closer now, her channel fluttering around my cock, and I snake a hand between us to rub at her clit and get her there.
“ Mine ,” she retorts, twisting my hair until my scalp prickles. I press my pained laugh against her neck.
When Lena comes, falling apart in my arms, it changes something inside me. Something deep in my chest locks into place, and I’m forever altered. Hers. It takes everything in me to keep thrusting, my breaths ragged.
“Weston,” Lena whispers once she’s caught her breath, tugging at my shoulders. “Come inside me. Let go.”
My groan is loud and pained, and my body surges with pleasure at her words, swelling inside her and spilling deep. It’s good and right and so intense it nearly hurts.
I keep thrusting, pushing my come deeper. Claiming every nook and cranny of my girl.
“Neanderthal,” Lena mutters again, but she sounds fond. Dreamy. Her thighs flex around my waist.
Finally, we’re silent except for shaky breaths. My office smells like sex, and the windows really have fogged over. Going forward, I need to ban Ariq from this whole floor.
“So,” Lena says at last, nosing at my sweat-damp throat. “What shall we do tomorrow night?”