“You good with the carts?” Wes asks.
“Yeah, I’ve got my eye on the Mexican.”
Jasmin leaves, and we order our food. We both start with the Mexican, getting soft tacos with different fillings, salsas, and guacamole.
“This is so good,” I moan around a huge bite of pork taco with sweet peach relish. “Oh, my God.” I lick my fingers, and Wes’ hot gaze follows my movements.
“Fuuuck,” he hums low in his throat. “Keep moaning like that, and there won’t be a later.”
I swallow the bite, the spices exploding on my tongue. “But it’s so good.”
He laughs. “I can see that. And my dick hears it loud and clear, too.”
I blink, my eyes dropping to his crotch and the evident outline of his length. “Oops. Sorry.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “No, you’re not. Shit, I never thought I’d be jealous of a taco.”
My stomach does this weird swoopy thing.Jealous. I know he’s just kidding, but it still makes me feel wanted, desired.
I hold out the taco in front of him. “You wanna try? You wanna taste your competition?”
He doesn’t say anything, just leans in. My eyes are glued to his lips. He opens his mouth and bites down on the taco, then moans, rolling his eyes. “God, your meat is amazing, Jett.”
“Jesus. I didn’t know food porn was a thing, but…” I feel like I’m burning up, despite a slight chill in the evening air.
His face grows serious, his eyes darkening slightly. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous. That blue shirt and the way the color clashes with his eyes. His full lips and that light dusting of scruff. I feel like grabbing his floppy hair, pulling him into a claiming kiss.
Wes licks his lips. “I can’t wait for later.” He leans in, his breath hot against my cheek, sweet from the beer. “I want you to fuck me, Jett. I need you inside me.” His hand snakes up my thigh, his fingers teasing my skin through my jeans. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else today. Your big, beautiful cock moving inside me, tearing me wide open.” His voice is breathy, just as teasing as his fingers. I’m rock fucking hard. I squirm in my seat, then grab his wrist, stilling his hand.
“You’re a fucking menace,” I hiss. “Such a goddamn brat.”
“You love it,” he retorts, smirking.
“Didn’t say I don’t.”
He sucks in a breath, his gaze dipping to my plate. “Eat up.”
I nod at his. “You done?”
“Uh-huh. Saving some appetite for later.” He looks around, but there’s no one close by, and the music is thumping from the speakers, the deep bass mingling with my rapidly beating heart. “I wanna suck a load out of you before you dump another in my ass.”
“Shit. How do you… when did you…” Fuck, I can’t even form a sentence to save my life. Wes’ crude talk, his filthy mouth, evokes images of tangled limbs and sweat-covered skin. Messy sheets and his body shaking underneath me from a violent orgasm.
“I dated a girl once. She, uhm… she liked to spice things up a little.” He leans in, his lips ghosting my chin. “You know, ass play.”
“It’ll be different than that. It’ll be—”
“Bigger? Better?” He kisses me, slow and seductive. I close my eyes, opening for him, and everything else around usdisappears. There’s just him and me, and how fucking amazing his tongue feels in my mouth. I whimper when he pulls away, his eyes swimming with want. “I’m counting on it. I want it to be different.” His gaze flickers, a hint of vulnerability in the blue. “I want to always remember how it felt when my boyfriend fucked me for the first time.”
Holy shit. We need to get out of here before I blow in my pants or drag Wes into the men’s room and fuck him senseless in a stall.
Wes smirks. “You want me to get the check?”
“Yes,” I croak.
He presses a quick kiss against my lips. “I’ll be right back.” He adjusts himself when he stands. At least I’m not the only one close to combusting. “Finish your food, babe,” he grins. “You’re gonna needallthe energy.”
Then he’s off, that casually spokenbabehanging in the air. I like it. It’s… sweet and humble, like Wes. Anthony always called medarling. I never liked it. It always sounded forced or formal. There’s nothing forced or fake about Wes. He’s all real. He’s been real with me from the beginning. Patient too. I’m grateful for that. I didn’t realize I needed someone like him to breathe life back into me, to make me… excited about every new day. Because I am. I wake up with energy and purpose, excited to read that first text from him or see him at work.
