Eighteen
Devon
So, I’m going to Paris. One of my French clients is in the middle of a board reshuffle, and they want me there as an advisor.
Pretty standard stuff, but it’ll require me being away for several days.
It doesn’t seem like a long trip, but I haven’t gone a full four days without sex for months now.
I’m a little concerned my arsehole might close up out of protest.
“Are you going to see Em?” Wes asks casually as he watches me pack. I can tell he’s attempting to hide just how curious he is, and the thought makes my lips quirk with amusement.
I shrug. “I texted her to let her know I’d be there, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I guess we’ll just wait and see whether we can fit anything in. I know how busy she is at the moment, and I’ll be working most of the time…”
He nods. “But you want to see her? If you can?”
I glance up from my suitcase, taking a moment to study his expression more carefully. “Yeah, of course. I mean…are you okay with that?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrug. “You just seem…unusually interested.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure most people who wind up banging their sister’s ex-fiancé would be pretty interested in future interactions between said sister and said ex-fiancé slash fuck buddy.”
“Are there really that many people shagging their sister’s ex-fiancé?” I ask, offering a sceptical brow raise.
He shrugs. “Probably not outside Ramsay Street.”
I let out a soft breath of laughter. “I don’t remember there being any fuck buddies on Neighbours.”
“Not at that timeslot,” Wes allows. “But you know they were getting up to all kinds of shit off-screen.”
I nod. “I hear fictional, scripted characters have a habit of doing that.”
Wes grabs a ball of socks from the top of my suitcase and tosses it at my head, prompting me to stick my middle finger up at him.
He let out a dramatic gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “Devon Montgomery, what a crass and uncouth gesture!”
“I’m sorry, did I offend your delicate sensibilities?”
He grins at me. “Actually, I’m impressed.” He steps closer to me and grab my hand. “Now, do you want me to show you where you can put that finger? And I mean that in all seriousness.”
I stare at him for a long moment, heat flooding me at the mere thought. “You’re such a fucking slut.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. “Says the guy who was gagging on my cock not thirty minutes ago.”
I swallow hard before giving a sharp shake of my head. “I need to pack.”
Stepping away from me, Wes tugs his t-shirt over his head and tosses it into my open suitcase.
Then he stuts over to my bedside table and retrieves a dildo from the top drawer.
He chucks that in the case as well before turning back to me with a wide grin.
“There you go, all packed. Now it’ll be like I’m there with you. ”
I arch a brow at him. “You must be way less arrogant than I thought if you think a t-shirt and a six-inch dildo could serve as an adequate substitute.”
He places a hand over his heart. “Aww. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I try to get back to packing, but it’s impossible to concentrate on anything now that Wes is shirtless. And he must be able to sense my train of thought because he keeps touching me in ways that might be considered innocent if it were anyone else, but because it’s Wes I know better.
“Okay, you need to put your shirt back on!” I cry, after the third time he’s brushed against me under the pretext of putting something in my suitcase.
He quirks a brow at me. “Or maybe you need to take your shirt off?”
We stare at each other for a long moment, and then I just snap. Sod it, I can pack later after Wes has gone home. Who cares if I only get two hours’ sleep? Sex is more important.
We tumble onto the bed, tearing at clothes as we kiss and grind against each other. Shit, I honestly thought I’d be over this by now, but it’s been almost two months since we first hooked up and I’m still just as vulnerable to Wes’s touch as I was that very first time.
In fact, it feels like, over time, the pull has gotten even stronger. Maybe a few days away from each other is exactly what we need to finally get this madness out of our systems once and for all.
“Wait—can you do that thing?” I ask as Wes reaches for the bottle of lube on my bedside table.
He quirks a mocking brow. “That thing?”
I feel my face heating furiously. He knows exactly what I’m talking about, the bastard. I swallow hard before saying, “The thing…with your tongue.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific. I do a lot of things with my tongue.”
I groan, tossing my head back in frustration. “You know what I mean!”
He offers a wry smirk. “Going to need you to say it.”
Drawing in a deep sigh, I stutter out, “Can you…um…rim me?”
Before Wes, I’d never been rimmed before. As much as I’ve always loved anal play, it just wasn’t something that had ever appealed to me in the past. Now, of course, it’s difficult to see why.
“There. Was that really so hard?” Wes teases.
I scowl at him. “You’re a prick.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “It’s been well established.”
“So…?”
He considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
“ What?”
“Well…maybe later,” he allows. “But first I’d like you to do that thing to me.”
My mouth falls open in shock at his request. “You… that?”
He just quirks an expectant brow, clearly amused by my response.
“I didn’t know you…liked that,” I say awkwardly. It’s a silly thing to say; who wouldn’t like that?
Wes lets out a soft little chuckle. “Look, you don’t have to if you really don’t want to. But I think you might enjoy it. I know I do. And if you’re worried about, um, hygiene,” he adds, “I’ve already douched.”
I blink at him in surprise. I hadn’t even thought of that.
Truthfully, my main concern is that I won’t be any good at it, having never done it before.
I’m far from being a slouch when it comes to sex, but Wes is clearly light years ahead of me in terms of experience, especially experience with other men.
In the two months we’ve been shagging my horizons have been broadened beyond my wildest imaginings, and I have to admit there are times when I find it hard to keep up.
“Okay, fine. But if I’m really bad at it you’re not allowed to make fun of me.”
He holds his hands up. “Trust me, you won’t even know. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to practice my fake groans of pleasure over the past couple of months.”
I punch him hard in the shoulder, scowling. “Do you want me to lick your arse or not?”
He lets out a loud bark of laughter. “Hey, you said it without blushing! This is progress.” He rolls off me and onto his back, spreading out on the pillows as though he’s a prince waiting to be pampered.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable. So you can lick my arse,” he adds with a waggle of his eyebrows.
I hesitate for a moment, not loving the idea of doing this front-on, but Wes has never balked at any of my requests so it’s only fair that I give him this one.
I’m feeling a little too nervous to dive right in, so instead I climb on top of him and seal my lips over his.
This is good; familiar territory. We continue to make out, our bodies moving together, until I’m able to gather the courage to move south.
I go slowly, savouring my journey down his body; running my tongue over his inked skin, tugging at his nipple ring with my teeth, paying special attention to that belly piercing that I can never get enough of.
When I finally get to my destination, I’m far more relaxed and Wes is positively thrumming with desire.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I duck my head between his thighs and dive in with my tongue.
I was hesitant about doing it in this position, thinking it might remind me of going down on a woman—which, don’t get me wrong, is amazing, but not something I need to be thinking of right now—but I needn’t have worried; nothing could be further from the truth.
There is absolutely no mistaking Wes’s maleness, with his thick, hairy thighs framing my face and my nose tapping against his ball sac every time I adjust my angle.
Not to mention the hard grip he has of my hair, pushing my face even closer, or the unmistakeably masculine groans of pleasure he’s letting out.
I can’t help smiling as the sound hits my ears; nothing fake about those.
Wes was right. I do like this. A lot. Feeling his entire body tremble at the simple touch of my tongue gives me the kind of heady rush that I can already tell is going to be addictive.
“Fuck…coming,” Wes groans, practically bucking off the bed.
I manage to pry his grip from my hair and scramble up so I can bend over and take his cock in my mouth, just in time to catch a mouthful of cum. I swallow it down and lick around the tip before letting it fall from my mouth.
A moment later, without a word of warning, I’m flat on my back and Wes’s lips are around my cock.
“Ah, fuck…” I groan, feeling completely disorientated but savouring the feel of Wes’s hot mouth on my cock.
It doesn’t take long for my own climax to rip through me, with Wes lapping up every drop of my release before collapsing back on the bed.
“That was terrible,” he says through heavy breaths. “You’re not good at that at all.”
I reach out blindly to punch him in the shoulder. “Bastard.”