30. THE ONE WHERE HE BEGS #2
“That’s it,” he encourages. West’s hand slides into the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Let me see you come.”
There’s nowhere else for me to look. West is too close. He’s all around me.
All I can see. All I can smell. All I can feel.
He’s all I want…
I shatter, throwing myself off the ledge of my desire.
My eyes roll to the back of my head, and West braces me through my orgasm.
When my vision comes back and I’m not blinking away stars, I look down, watching the chords of West’s arm flex as he fingers me through the end of my release.
The muscles in my lower stomach constrict, gripping West tight until he slips out, rubbing my clit in languid circles.
I chance a glance at his face, hoping he’s still not as hot as he was when I kissed him. Sometimes when you’re horny, people are hotter…
Me expecting West to be any less attractive when he’s in this sexy pleasure-dom mode is stupid. I’m stupid for even considering he could be unattractive at any point ever.
Fuck. I’m so fucked.
He does one more circle and plunges his fingers inside, only to pull them out and remove his hand from my sweatpants.
I follow the line of his fingers to his mouth, where he slips them inside to taste my cum. A breath of air escapes my lips as I watch, hungry for more.
He pops his fingers out and grabs the back of my head again, but this time with a gentleness I hadn’t expected. “You’re fucking incredible, Joey.” West kisses me, sharing the taste of me on his tongue.
He finally brings his other leg onto the bed, positioning me to a seated position he fits beside perfectly.
My brain starts to work again… At a snail’s pace, but the logic I lost creeps in and reminds me the biggest reason we shouldn’t have done what will now go down as the best fingering I’ve ever had—in my 30s.
West’s paying me. I’m his employee. The fear I have of HR screams for me to stop kissing him.
But I don’t want to. I want to get him out of his pants and suck his di—“West,” I mumble against the most kissable lips I’ve ever kissed. I bring my hand to his chest, using it as leverage to put some space between us.
“Don’t overthink it.” West’s hand cups my jaw, his thumb running over my swollen bottom lip.
His eyes are piercing, and for a moment I’m worried I won’t be able to break their trance on me. The way he looks at me has a deep dread building in the pit of my stomach for what happens after tour’s over.
Who will I become when I have to go back to the real world?
“No one has to know what we’re doing behind closed doors.” West looks hopeful when he says it, and I think that breaks me more than knowing what has to happen next.
I lift the hand I have on his chest, placing it over his on my face. For a quick moment, I gently stroke the back of his hand with my thumb. “This is supposed to be for them, not us.” The only part for us is supposed to be the money and West’s exposure.
His face is optimistic—my touch giving him a false sense of hope.
“Why can’t it be both?” he asks.
I have no idea how to answer him, but I know what I have to say next is going to crush him.
Selfishly, I take a few more seconds to live in this post-orgasm bliss where West isn’t almost seven years younger than me and we hadn’t met when I was at my most vulnerable.
I’d like to think another version of myself might be able to love someone like West one day.
It’s just not the right time…
I rip the Band-Aid off.
“I think you should go.” There’s an audible hesitancy in my voice, but somehow, I manage to peel his hand off my face, bringing it down to the bed.
I said no sex.
HR would fire me, regardless of the whole penetration rule, if this were a traditional business setting.
But it’s not.
For whatever reason, I can’t seem to get past that detail though, no matter what my conscience counters with.
West is paying me.
He’s my employer.
The disappointed look on his face isn’t one of a man who’s upset he didn’t get his dick wet. It’s because I’m shutting him out.
He wants in, but I’m too afraid to get left behind by someone who says they love me again to let the warmth in my chest turn into an uncontrolled wildfire.
Without thinking, I lean forward, delicately placing a kiss on his lips.
It’s my apology to him—for coming into his life and making him believe I could be loved.
None of what I felt on the first night, or what I’ve been feeling over the last few weeks, has been a fluke.
Being with West is electric.
He is electric.
“Jo—”
I don’t let him try to change my mind. “This can’t happen again.” I scoot off the bed, avoiding the box of pizza in the middle and grab my shirt to hold against my chest.
We barely touched our dinner, but I’m not hungry anymore. It’s been replaced with the fear of falling and an urge to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction.
Lucky for West, the contract I signed binds me to him until the night before Thanksgiving.
I back towards the bathroom door. “Thanks for coming with—” God damn it. “Accompanying me. Thanks for going with me tonight.” I trip over my words, stuttering until I disappear behind the bathroom door, locking it to signify the end of our night.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I finally come out after a cold shower to help bring my body’s temperature down from near nuclear heat, but West’s gone, a note left on the top of the pizza box in permanent marker.
I’ll catch you if you fall.