SEVEN
DEVON
The soft body in my arms stirs in sleep, burrowing deeper into my embrace when I pull him in closer, his back molding to my chest.
My eyes crack open, and all I see is dark-red.
Sam.
I bury my nose in his nape, inhaling his scent which is damn near intoxicating right now—strawberries and cream, sweat, cum.
It makes my mouth water, and my dick twitch like it hasn’t been merely a few hours since we fucked our brains out, since he let me suck on his tit and fed me his milk. Since I kissed him to sleep.
He’s still asleep under the thin blanket I keep here for emergency all-nighters, expression calm and relaxed, lips parted.
It can’t be later than five in the morning, pre-dawn light framing his features.
He never took my shirt off completely, but left unbuttoned, it has slipped off his shoulders, exposing the countless freckles on his skin.
The blanket covers his lower half, and my hand tightens on his belly when I think about his self-consciousness, about how scared he was to show me his body.
As if he could be anything less than fucking gorgeous.
If he was a work of art before, now he’s a damn masterpiece, a body so supple, so soft, so full, I want to bury myself into it over and over until his beautiful lines and marks never stop shimmering, until his freckles never stop rippling. Until he fucking believes it.
Sam makes a low sound in his throat, something between a sigh and a hum that speaks of pure contentment, and if I could trap a sound inside my palm, it would be this one.
His breathing changes, and his pulse jumps when I kiss his neck, so I know he’s waking up if he’s not awake already.
Brown eyes peek at me over his shoulder, still half-mast from sleep, and a secret smile tips up his lips that has my heart pounding.
“Good morning, Devon,” he mumbles, twisting just enough so he can look at me better, his body still tucked against mine.
“Good morning, Sam.” His mussed curls are all over the place from my fingers. I should mess them up some more. “How are you feeling?” I ask, hand already tangled in his hair. “Did you get some rest?”
“Mhm. Surprisingly, I did. Who knew office couches could be so comfortable?” He finishes with a twinkle in his eyes as he stretches as much as our position allows. “How about you? Did you manage to get some sleep all crowded like that?”
I haven’t slept this well in ages, and the possible reason why terrifies me.
No, don’t think about that. Not now. Later.
I swallow before I can answer him.
“I did,” I say simply, watching him settle against me.
There’s no other sound for a while, nothing but the soft rustling of my fingers going through his hair, and our combined breathing.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he murmurs, and my heart fucking trips.
All I can do is goddamn stare at him as he asks me the same thing I did during our one and only lunch break together.
His smile mirrors mine.
“I have a little brother. A very little brother.”
His smile widens further.
“How little?”
“He’s twenty-two, almost eighteen years younger than me. He was a surprise baby.”
Something flashes in Sam’s expression, but it’s gone when I blink, his smile still intact.
“What’s his name?”
“Angel.”
He grins, and I want to kiss that grin off his face.
“That’s so pretty.”
I nod in agreement.
“It is, and it describes him perfectly. He’s pure sunshine.”
“Wait. He’s Angel, and you’re Devon?”
“Yes?”
“Angel and Devon.” His lips pinch together, trying to bite back a laugh, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Do you have a point?”
“Oh, I think you know what my point is.” He shrugs.
“If you’re implying that there is some sort of wordplay in there—”
“I mean, you do have a bit of a devilish charm—” A giggle escapes him when I grasp his waist and pull him on top of me, the blanket tangled around our legs. He’s perfectly naked but for my shirt falling off his shoulders and bunching around him.
“You think I’m charming?”
“You know you’re charming.” His eyes sparkle as his nails run absentmindedly through the rough stubble already appearing on my jaw.
Fuck, it feels good. Him touching me casually like this. Him teasing me.
“You know what else you are? Almost forty. Practically ancient,” he chokes out, and I want to eat him.
He shivers when I nuzzle him behind his ear, rubbing my stubble on the pink skin of his neck.
“You didn’t seem to mind a few hours ago, Sammy.”
I feel the slow shift in the air. It’s in the way his eyes shutter, in the way his smile loses its glow, in the way his body subtly curls in on itself on me.
My arm instinctively tightens around his waist a split second before he makes a move to get up, keeping him in place.
“Where are you going?”
He’s not looking at me when he speaks.
“The night is over, right?”
The words gut me. They reach inside my chest, and choke the fucking air from my lungs. They also feel like a bucket of ice-cold water.
What the fuck am I doing?
Fucking this sweet creature, holding him while he sleeps, taking care of him like he’s mine, like I get to have him, to keep him.
I shouldn’t have touched him again, just because he doesn’t belong to someone else. Not when it feels like one touch is not enough. Not when it feels like years of touches will never be enough.
Not when I know this is all it can ever be. That it has to be. It has to.
The animal inside me howls in despair at the thought, and I let it.
I tilt Sam’s chin, applying just enough pressure to make him look at me again, and I’d happily drown in his gaze.
“Sam…” I rasp, but he shakes his head.
He peers at me steadily, with a quiet intensity I can’t look away from.
“I know there are rules, Devon. I know this shouldn’t have happened, and that it can’t happen again, because we work together, and there can’t be mistakes or distractions.”
My arms tighten once more around him, until he’s fucking plastered on me, every cell in my body rejecting what he’s saying. Denying that he’s right.
Because yes, there are rules, even if they’re not for the reasons he thinks, rules I can’t break. For his sake. So that he and his little one can be safe.
Sam’s warm hand on my face makes my spiraling thoughts still, makes everything blissfully quiet.
His eyes burn into me as he goes on.
“I know there are rules. But I don’t want the night to be over yet.”
Fire consumes my being.
Yes. Not over yet. Not yet.
“What do you want?”
“I want to fuck again,” he breathes, voice low and sure. He moves, straddling me fully, his knees on either side of my hips. “I want to fuck one more time.”
Mindless need consumes me, my hands reaching for the blanket and ripping it off us in the next instant. A small gasp of surprise leaves him, his eyes filling with so much heat, his scent spiking with such mouthwatering arousal, I feel fucking dizzy.
“Sit on my cock,” I murmur hoarsely, and almost swallow my tongue when he rises on me, showing me everything. Naked from throat to cock, my shirt draped around him, expression shy but also wanting.
Hard. Wet.
Beautiful. That’s what he is. The most fucking beautiful man I’ve ever seen, fucked, kissed, held.
So, I tell him. Or at least, I tell him what I can.
“You have any idea how beautiful you are?”
His lips part in a shuddery exhale as his brown eyes bore into mine.
“Yeah?” he whispers, one palm bracing on my chest, while the other fists my aching cock. He breathes hard as he lifts on his knees, positioning me where he wants me, circling his hole with my head.
I grit my teeth at the hot-as-fuck sensation, groaning when I feel him dripping on me, and I grip his hips to help him move on me.
Fuck, he did this that night too—coating me in his slick, rubbing himself on me like an animal in heat.
“Yeah, Sam-my,” I stumble on his name when he bears down on me, barely stopping my eyes from rolling back as he slowly sinks down on me and I’m buried in the slickest warmth I’ve ever felt. My fingers dig into his flesh, and his moan travels all the way to my dick. “You’re goddamn breathtaking.”
Sweat glistens on his temples when he’s seated on me, the flush in his cheeks bleeding across his collarbone, down his chest, all over his swollen tits.
His eyes are wild as he looks down at me, and all I want is to be wild with him, to forget everything else exists for a few more moments, to get lost inside his body.
“Fuck yourself on me, beautiful,” I demand, or beg. I don’t know which.
But I’m not ready for it when he does exactly that.
Because there’s nothing shy about the way he moves on me.
He rides me hard and fast, sliding up and slamming down, taking me so deep that I barely leave his body at all.
I’m in fucking heaven as I feast on the sight of Sam pleasuring himself on me, using me to make himself feel good. God, I’m drenched in his slick, my eyes dropping where we’re joined, where I can see myself sinking inside him over and over.
He’s mesmerizing—hands braced on my stomach, thighs flexing, cock slapping on his belly with every downward thrust. His nails dig into me when he finds his gland, a ragged moan tearing from his throat.
And I go feral for him. I touch him everywhere, holding his hip firmly, my palm splaying on the soft pouch of his belly that keeps jiggling as he bounces and writhes on me, squeezing it possessively as I bend my knee for leverage, and ram into him.
He screams when I nail him good, his head thrown back, his nipples hard and… leaking.
My cock throbs inside him.
I… I want more of it, more of his milk, more of him.
There is an audible hitch in his breath when I wrap him fully in my arms, maneuvering us so we’re both sitting and my face is inches from his chest.
I look into his liquid eyes as I lean in, kissing his tit, gathering an errant drop with my tongue, his sweet taste exploding in my mouth.
“Do you have more for me?” I murmur against his skin, my hands tightening on his back as he rolls his hips on me, grinding on me maddeningly perfect.