Chapter 2
Jennifer
He tasted like coffee and Gus. I hadn’t realized I craved this. No, that was a lie. Of course, I knew I wanted him. It was an issue. Perhaps not the problem he thought it was, but that was on him.
When he tugged on my hair, tipping my head back to deepen the kiss, I moaned, my fingernails digging into his hips. As he pulled away, panting, I licked my lips and looked up at him.
“Okay, then.” I did my best to sound nonchalant, like I wasn’t all worked up. But I was.
I was strong, smart, and could handle myself in any situation. I was in a job where many men outside my core group thought I was ill-equipped just because I had ovaries instead of a dick. Yet I could outclass them all. I knew how to get shit done. I knew how to stand on my own two feet.
But with Gus’s hands on me, roaming over my body, touching, squeezing, tasting, it was hard for me to remember my name, let alone what I was supposed to be doing in the situation. Oh, yes, I should be taking control. Telling him to get over his fucking self and not blame me for his mistakes.
And yet…it wasn’t there. All the words I needed were gone. Poof. I didn’t care. I wanted more. Needed more.
“Jen,” he whispered against me, nibbling my jawline.
I kept touching him but didn’t respond.
“Do you really think this will solve anything?” he growled against my lips, even as he tugged my shirt up so he could touch skin. His fingers were rough and calloused, and it nearly sent me over the edge.
That was new and interesting—the idea of coming from merely a touch of skin against skin.
What was it about this man?
“Who’s saying we want to solve anything?” I asked, sounding far more together than I felt.
He looked at me then. I stared into those eyes that did something to me and told myself it was fine. The thought of his beard against my skin and his calloused fingers against my flesh was enough. Only a taste for now so I could get over it. Get over him.
I knew it was a lie even as I thought it.
“Then we don’t solve anything. We scratch the itch.”
My lips twitched. “We both know I suck at relationships.”
He laughed then, and it didn’t quiet the intensity inside.
If anything, it made it burn hotter. We knew each other.
In the past year, we had risked our lives for each other, trusted each other with everything but the deepest parts of ourselves, the quietest parts.
So, perhaps it made sense that him understanding me like that would turn me on even more.
“You know I’m not good at them either.”
“Then we do our best not to be good at them together. Just for now. I’m not your distraction,” I said again, annoyed by the hurt in my tone.
Neither of us had done anything wrong. Things happened, and we adjusted; everyone was safe.
But if Gus thought he had done something and was lashing out because of it? I wasn’t going to be his punching bag.
“You’re sure as hell a distraction right now,” he mumbled against me. In answer, I crushed my mouth to his. I was tired of this conversation. I just wanted to do the thing I’d been imagining since I met him—taste him.
He slid his hands up my shirt, and I pulled back, arms over my head as he tugged it off.
I did the same to him, and then his fingers were suddenly on my bra, the tan fabric falling to the floor. I groaned when his hands moved to my chest, his thumb and forefinger playing with my nipple. I didn’t have large breasts; they barely filled his palms, but they were sensitive.
When he kept rolling them, I groaned and rocked into him. I could feel his erection against my stomach. He was long, thick—a fucking steel pipe. And soon, it would be mine.
I grinned against his lips before his mouth went to my nipple, sucking on the bud. He bit down gently, and the sensation warmed me from the inside. I pressed my thighs together, my clit throbbing with each heartbeat.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered before moving me to my desk. We were in the middle of the office. Anyone with a key could walk in at any moment. And we knew every single person who had a key.
But I didn’t care.
Instead, I put my hands on the desk and lifted myself up. When I put my butt on the surface, he grinned and lowered to his knees.
There was nothing more beautiful than a strong man with a muscled back kneeling between your legs.
It was a masterpiece. A fucking work of art.
When he undid my boots, I spread my legs for him, helping him when he went to my zipper.
“I need to taste you.”
“Then get on it, big boy,” I teased.
He grinned and smacked a kiss to my lips before pulling at my pants. I moved, feeling slightly vulnerable when he pulled my panties down. He was still partially dressed, his pants and boots on, and here I was, naked on my desk, my computer against my back.
He shifted me so there was nothing behind me, just a few files that weren’t important.
And then he was on his knees again, his hands on my inner thighs.
He looked up at me, those eyes of his seeing far too much before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss right above my knee.
I shivered, and my legs nearly clamped around his head.
He must have noticed the movement because he grinned before kissing my other thigh and trailing more toward my center. His beard was soft, which had surprised me during our kiss. He must use beard oil for it. It wasn’t rough and dirty. I liked some things rough and dirty but not facial hair.
I needed him. And that should scare me because he was my friend. But this was just for today. Only for this moment. We were getting it out of our systems. I was fine with that.
And then his mouth was on my cunt, and I was swallowing hard, head thrown back as he licked and sucked at me.
“You’re so fucking sweet. Like honey on my tongue.”
I wasn’t typically a fan of guys talking during sex. Usually, they just grunted and mumbled my name in an unintelligible way that said they weren’t really into it, just getting off. But for some reason, I wanted Gus to talk. I needed him to tell me what I tasted like, what he desired.
As if he could read my damn mind, he did.
“You’re going to come on my face, on my tongue, and then you’re going to lay back so I can fill you with my cock. Are you ready for that, Jen?”
I licked my lips and slid one hand up to my breast, cupping myself. I pinched my nipple, meeting his gaze. “You talk a lot for a guy not getting me off.”
He grinned as if it were a challenge—which it damn well was—before returning to eating me out, slowly delving his tongue between my folds. He didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he watched my wet pussy, enough that I should feel embarrassed, but I couldn’t. All I could do was want him, crave him.
He lapped me up, his tongue twisting around my clit. When he speared me with two fingers, I wasn’t prepared. I gasped, nearly falling off the desk. But he kept me steady, one hand on my thigh and the other fucking me, even as he continued to taste and lick.
It was too much. I put both hands on the desk, keeping myself steady so I wouldn’t fall. And then I was coming, nearly ricocheting off the desk and onto his face as I trembled, my clit throbbing, my pussy clenching. But he continued to eat, kept savoring.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbled against me before kissing my pussy, then my thighs again.
Before I could blink, he was licking and sucking up my body, paying particular attention to my nipples.
Then his mouth was on mine, his hand on the back of my head, in control.
And I let him. For this moment, I let him.
“Jen,” he whispered.
“Oh, dear God. I knew you could do something better with that mouth than just drone on and on about reports.” I winked as I said it, needing to settle into this moment.
He rolled his eyes before kissing me hard and gripping my wrist. “Now, be a good girl and suck my dick.”
I should be offended, but I really wanted to see it. I didn’t usually like them. They were ugly and awkward, but I really wanted to see his. So, I undid his pants, and we both worked them down over his very luscious ass. I swallowed hard.
He was thick, long, and the ring at the end was something I wasn’t quite expecting.
“Look at you with the jewelry. Full of surprises.” I licked my lips even as I gripped him in one hand, my thumb rubbing the jewelry at the tip.
“Well, your hand is like a fucking vise. If you’re not careful, I’m going to come over those pretty tits and not in that pussy.”
“I’m sorry. Is that a complaint?” I squeezed.
His eyes closed, and he gripped my wrist, keeping me steady. “I want to feel your pussy around me.”
“We can make that happen. But the piercing?” I asked again.
He shrugged, the movement making my hand slide up and down his cock. We both groaned at that, and I kept working him slowly. I didn’t want this to end, even though I knew it needed to. “We’re friends with a bunch of tattoo artists and piercers. Of course, I have the ink and piercings.”
I looked over his body, at the tattoos covering his chest and hips. I knew he had more on his back. After all, we worked out together, and I had seen him shirtless countless times. But I had never seen him like this.
Damn the man. “Well, I like it.”
“I’m surprised you’re not more pierced.”
I shimmied off the desk and went to my knees in front of him, pulling my hair down from its bun. He wrapped it around his fist and tugged. I nearly moaned, the pinch of pain doing something to me I wasn’t ready for.
“I used to have my nipples done, but some bras show them, and that’s not great in a fight.” He grunted as I swallowed him whole, and he began working in and out of my mouth. Even though I was the one keeping the pace, he was the one in control. Tricky bastard.